The Code of an Omega

The Gardner

"You really like to read, don't you?" James asked, as he peeked over my shoulder.

I sighed in annoyance and ignored him, trying to focus on my book. It had been about three weeks since I moved here, and James had gotten a little more comfortable around me...and definitely more annoying. He always badgered me with questions about me and what I like to do. I would answer but didn't find it enjoyable. If he would've asked sensible questions, then I wouldn't have minded. He didn't though. He asked stupid questions all the time, like my favorite drink or what season I preferred over the others. Stupid shit like that. I was glad that he filled the silence, but it irritated me when he wouldn't shut up about irrelevant things about me.

As usual, we were both in the library. I sat at a table with a nice book, and James sat next to me with his phone in his hands. He usually picked out a game to play or watched a video on some website I'd never heard of. When he got bored with doing that though, that was when he turned his attention on me.

"So what's your favorite genre?" He asked.

I sighed once more. "I don't have one."

"Why?"

I rolled my eyes. "Because I like to experience different writing styles."

"That doesn't mean you don't prefer one over the other."

"I don't like to waste time picking out favorites when there are plenty of books in other genres that are just as good as those books."

He nudged me playfully. "Oh, come on. You gotta at least have a favorite book."

I groaned and set down my book to look at him. "If you are bored, then why don't you find something else to do?"

"I'm not bored. I like to find out more about you." He smirked at me cunningly. "Plus, it's funny when you're mad." I started at him blankly before getting up from my chair. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere you're not." I said without looking back. I heard him chuckle right before I stepped outside.

I couldn't handle all the questions he had for me. It wasn't that I was nervous. I just hated to be the main subject of the sentence. What was so great about me? Why did he want to know so much? What was the point? I was definitely not an interesting person. I lived an orphanage my whole life and experienced little to nothing of the word. Hell, I had never been to a fast food restaurant before. I guessed he was serious about the whole "friend" thing, but I wasn't a complex person. There was no need for him to know so much about me.

I decided that I would take a stroll around the garden for a while to get my mind off of James. I hadn't really gotten a good look the last couple of times I was out here. Mainly, because James would distract me from the scenery.

The garden was beautiful and vivacious. It was decorated in bright and exotic plants from all sides. Pathways guided me to every inch where I would occasionally find fountains, lawn decor, or a seating area. Whoever designed this place was definitely talented and had an eye for beauty.

As I walked around, I couldn't help but wonder how most of these plants grew here. Some of them didn't even bloom until the fall and winter, and it was the end of spring now. I wasn't complaining, though. Somehow, every plant in the garden went well with the atmosphere. They weren't to overwhelming and blended perfectly.

Crash!

Startled, I quickly turned around to find a guy at the end of the path trying to pick up the pieces to his flower pots. He seemed frantic with his face beet red and him mumbling about what an idiot he was. As I watched him, he glanced up at me and became even redder in the face. Obviously, he was embarrassed, but I didn't see why. With the many pots he was carrying, it was no wonder why he dropped them.