21 Murders | Harry Styles AU (discontinued)

I. Calamitous

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calamitous (adjective):  involving calamity; catastrophic; disastrous

I felt fatigued and ready to conk out by the time my last class of the evening came around. Professor Donovan had taught Economics at my university for years and was a very outstanding teacher - don't get me wrong, but the last thing I wanted to debate after a long and very stressful day of exam prep was if the U.S. benefited from socialism.

The hushed whispers of students faded behind me as I tried my hardest to focus on his lecture and take beneficial notes that I could scrutinize over later. At the rate of how chatty some students tended to be, I considered it humorous how they thought they could still pass with a smile-worthy grade. It seemed, though, as hard as I tried to keep my eyes straightforward, they always found their way back toward the round clock hung over the large chalkboard. So much so, that I began to believe the hands were moving counterclockwise instead of vice versa.

It wasn't until the egg-shaped timer on Professor Donovan's neat desk rung a piercing shrill through the room that I truly felt the utmost amount of relief swarm into my system, and as fellow students matched my glee with hums of satisfaction, it was obvious they were just as relieved.

"All right, Class," the professor announced loudly over the sounds of scraping chair legs and shuffled papers. "I bid everyone a safe drive and for those who live on campus, a safe journey home on foot. Please don't forget to study up on this semester's final exam. It will count for over 40% of your graduating grade. And since I've been working with young adults for a while now, I know you won't take my word for it. So, in the wise words of Beyoncé: 'The best revenge is your paper'."

The whole room echoed with low laughter and I couldn't help but to join in. For being middle-aged, he sure knew how to stay modern and connect with kids on a level that they understood or could relate to. That was one of the very many reasons why Professor Donovan was my favorite teacher. He was serious and hard to gain respect from, but being in his class pushed me to strive harder and I never left not knowing more than when I walked in.

"Hey, Noelle."

Shoving my intimidating Economics book in my bag, I spun on my heel to be met with a familiar face. "Hi Mendy," I politely spoke, somewhat confused as to her sudden interest in approaching me after we had gone without speaking for so long.

"Are you going to the football game tonight?" she asked, her eyes just briefly traveling down the length of my body as she took a seat on the desk beside mine. I had almost missed it, but hadn't; although, I might have felt more confident if I had. Crossing her thin arms, she added persuasively, "FYI, there are going to be a lot of hella hot guys around."

"As pleasant and uber exciting as that sounds..." I trailed off, trying to weigh the pros and cons of being blunt, "I'll have to rain check you on that one. My books aren't going to study themselves and, know you; don't wanna let Beyoncé down," I joked lamely, earning a tight-lipped smile in return. "Watching sweaty twenty-year-olds argue in the parking lot isn't as exhilarating after three and a half years, especially as opposed to how alluring my warm, comfy bed sounds."

"Oh, come on! Everyone knows that you are the smartest – if not the student with the highest grade in the class. Which is why you tutored me, anyway," Mendy winked, always able to ingratiate herself into conversation. "Live a little," she shrugged nonchalantly with a challenging tone.

"Sorry," I merely whispered, getting that awkward niggling you obtain in your stomach when debating whether to succumb to peer pressure or be rude and run for the hills. She liked to put me in these awkward spaces, I noticed. Which was why I tried to steer clear of her at all costs the majority of the year. "Maybe next time?" I offered optimistically, beginning to shuffle my feet along the floor as an indication of uncomfortableness.