Enough | ✔️

+ 7 +

●qυorra neverѕea●

Professor Hartley begins the lecture, rambling on about something or other as I spin my pen around my finger in boredom. I've made little to no progress on the thick booklet I've been given but luckily I don't have to start teaching the rest of the class until next Frid-

"-which is why she will be guiding the class over the next few lessons. As expected, I will give in my two cents when she misses information you'll need for your exam. Miss Neversea, please come to the front."

... shmer?

Oh shit - he meant this Friday.

I quickly look up from my pen twiddling, instantly feeling uneasy as fifty pairs of awaiting eyes settle on me. With the confidence of a twig, I try to muster up an excuse. Well how on earth do I get myself out of this one? 

"I, uh, lost the booklet," I clear my throat, rubbing the back of my neck in a hopefully guilty fashion.

The dead look on Professor Hartley's face tells me he isn't buying it.

"I mean, I haven't done much of it. I, uh... I thought you meant next Friday," I add, desperately trying to revive the situation.

He walks closer to the front rows of desks. The front of the room is slightly raised, so when he stops a metre or two away from me, I'm exactly at eye-level with a place I really don't want to be eye-level with.

I cast my gaze away swiftly.

"Class, continue with other work."

I can tell from the deafening silence that not one student has even attempted to do 'other work'. Professor Hartley must notice too but he doesn't seem to care.

"You do realise who this university is for, Miss Neversea?" he begins rhetorically, marking the start of very different but just as boring lecture, "People who perhaps didn't do so well on their exams as they hoped they would do. You are one of them. You are not special in this room, and so I hold you to the rules that I hold everyone else to."

"In my defence, you weren't very cl-"

"-Blaming me, are we? See me after the lecture."

Oh wow, he sounds pissed.

He picks on me too much, it's his fault I annoy him all the time. If I was never roomed with him, I bet he wouldn't even take a second glance at me. As he walks away, Grant sniggers, "You got in trouble."

Jackass.

I scowl and turn to look at him bitterly, wishing that Professor Hartley could have heard him.

After yesterday, Grant hasn't brought up the near-kiss. I don't know whether that is a good thing or not. On one hand, it means I can avoid a very uncomfortable conversation with someone who is perhaps pursuing a different outcome in this relationship than I am. On the other hand, it means we'll just keep dwelling in this awkward silence that is just begging me to say something.

And me saying something never ends well.

As we just observed.

The lecture ends after many more minutes of me tapping away on the desk or biting on the ends of my sleeves as if I'm in primary school again. It's been a recurring habit of mine since I was a child but surprisingly not the weirdest. As soon as I realise I'm doing it, I roll my up sleeves and rest my cheek on my hand with a deep sigh.

The clock ticks past the hour once again and Professor Hartley dismisses everyone else as I stay glued to my seat. Grant wishes me good luck, "I'll wait outside," he offers as I shrug.