blue (book one) - h.s. ✔️ watty's 2019

chapter 4

Harry. Walking in, he's dressed head to toe in all black. He's wearing a pair of skinny jeans that accentuate his long, toned legs, a faded Nirvana shirt, similar to mine, and a pair of Converse.

As my eyes travel upwards after shifting down the tower that is Harry, I take note of the dark ink peeking from under his shirt and stop at his dark brown, tousled hair. I also notice of a piercing that I hadn't noticed before or perhaps he just wasn't wearing it.

"How nice of you to join us, Harold. Please take a seat wherever," the older man kindly states with an equally kind smile that Harry negates with stone cold, green eyes.

Chuckling and muttering something incoherent under his breath - but obviously rude - Harry takes a seat towards the top of the classroom ignoring my being. His eyes flicker to mine and I think even Jax's on his way to the back of the lecture hall before continuing up the stairs without a care. For some reason I feel a tinge of hurt sweep through my body, but choose to ignore it.

Resuming class, Professor Allison continues on about the excellency of William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury before assigning the first couple of chapters for Friday's test.

ASIDE FROM MY implicit encounter with Harold this morning, the rest of my day progresses uneventfully. Ending yet another academic day with one of Alex's world renowned, innocent jokes seemed to be much more expected these days.

"Where did the computer go dancing?" he starts, smiling a perfectly lined smile.

My lord. "I don't know," I say, uninterested.

"The disc-o!" he finishes, channeling his Spanish accent. Where does he find these terrible jokes?

The wind seems to be alive today as it produces a sound that is somewhat piercing to the ear, the sun - hiding behind an army of clouds - lightly kisses my skin, and the birds singing to the rhythm of a separate song from that of the wind, as the sounds clash, soar through the sky at record speeds.

All around the classic Gothic styled school are swarms of students wearing Penn gear and the sweaters of their distinct member chapters, such as the notorious sects of the IFC, Phi Delta Theta and Sigma Chi.

As I follow Alex to his car, I catch a glimpse of a tall figure entering a rustic building. The figure looks familiar, capturing my attention for a split second, but instantly I'm sidetracked by the rumbling of my stomach. Chuckling, Alex must have heard me because he suggests grabbing a quick bite at Lyn's breakfast & lunch before heading home.

While I bite into my peanut butter & jelly sandwich, I hear Alex on the phone through the radio of the car and tune in to his conversation.

"Nah, man. Donovan's a bro. He wouldn't let shit like that fuck him over."

"I don't know, bro. He's been really into her lately. You never know," the voice continues not backing down from whatever it is they're talking about.

"Think about it. If you had the opportunity to get with any girl in Alpha Chi for one night, you'd go for it. You'd have to be pussy-whipped to do otherwise," Alex gossips, invested in his conversation.

Gosh, I hate his language when he's around his friends.

"Besides Landri tested positive for clap. You just don't get over shit like that by staying with the chick."

"I don't know, man. A condom can go a long way. You just don't let ass like that go to waste. Have you seen her in her little cheer uniform? I'd tap and risk it," the unknown voice starts, resonating throughout the car. I roll my eyes at what they consider significant, but continue listening slightly interested.