A terrorist attack takes place in Canada during the widely loved politician's wedding. The horrible incident leaves hundreds of people dead, but the politician's son survives. Luckily, he meets a gorgeous med student in the hospital of who he just...
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july 1st toronto
WHEN MY TEACHER PRONOUNCED THE WORD GROUP-PROJECT, anxiety created by unnecessities in my head traveled down my body from head to toes. I had never been the one to propose working together, and no one else had been that person either. Group-projects equaled all-by-myself-projects. The thing was; I didn't mind – when alone, I didn't need to think of others, and I could do everything exactly my way. Back in the day, when I ended up being alone while anyone else was partnered up, I used to go home crying, and my mother never understood why nobody wanted to work with me. I was an outcast, a misfit, no one shared the same interests as I had. I was destined to be alone, alone but independent. There was not a thing I couldn't do myself, I never needed the help of someone else. Who could one trust more than themselves?
My eyes scanned the lecture hall as everyone either gestured to someone to partner up, or stood up to discuss things with their partner. Every person around me disappeared, creating a wave of utter loneliness to fade out my surroundings into black nothingness. It was just me in an empty lecture hall, just me.
"Hey, are you single?"
The sudden close voice of someone whose voice didn't come in familiar startled me and awoke me from dark thoughts. His green eyes were pierced into mine, patiently yet curiously waiting for an answer as he sat on the line of stools in front of me, leaning on the back support with both his elbows to face me. Probably due to the surprised expression on my face, the corners of his lips curled up into a smirk and two dimples appeared in his cheeks.
"I might have worded that a little weirdly," he said apologetically, "but what I meant is; do you have a partner for the project?"
I couldn't keep my eyes off him – something in his face was so attractive in a non-sexual way. "No." That came out much harsher than I imagined in my head.
"Want . . . to join me maybe?" he hesitantly asked. I smiled at him and nodded, where after he enthusiastically reached out his arm, hand hanging in front of me ready to be shaken. "I'm Miles, and I have to be honest here – I've sort of been looking at you ever since the start of this year. Not in a weird, creepy way though . . . I just mean that you look like someone who might be a good partner in projects. Your mom works at Toronto General Hospital, right?"
I laughed, and charmingly looked down at my shoes. The blue Converses I had been wearing as long as I could've remembered looked a little rough – every time they had gotten worn out, I bought new ones. When I looked up, Miles was still looking at me with a smile that seemed to have a calming effect on me, still it showed a bit of embarrassment. He wasn't very good with his words, that he had made clear – what if I made him nervous? I did sound mean in the beginning of our conversation.
He relaxed his arm and laid it back on the seat. Shit.
The rest of the people in the lecture hall started leaving altogether, and I felt the biting urge to pack my bag as well. My impulsive packing comprehensibly confounded Miles, and he awkwardly slid a hand through his blonde, messy hair. The pink blouse he was wearing had its sleeves uncarefully rolled up and looked a little loose on his skin. In the few minutes I had gotten to know him, it totally suited his character. It was funny how clothing drew someone's personality.
