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Black Chapter 6

BLACK Chapter 6

I read the clock hanging from the center of my room, it’s already past seven and I haven’t started one assignment. I can’t seem to keep a steady rate, as my mind is drifting from place to place. The thoughts in my head are running to fast for my brain to catch up.

The pounding against my skull has gotten thicker since I’ve awoken. Even though I didn’t have a single drink last night, I still feel oddly sick. If this is what teenagers wake up too every weekend; I sure as hell don’t want to be apart of this. This is awful. Why on earth would someone want to endanger themselves in such a way?

I delay the question, picking myself up from the bed. I notice my attire is still the same as last night. The black clothing is still placed on my body. I look around my small room, everything seems to be in place expect for a drunk James on the floor.

Why is he here? I don’t have the patience to deal with him at the moment so I leave him exactly as he is; spread out on my bedroom floor.

The red hair girl from last night is propped up on the sofa, she smokes a single gray watermarked paper in between her finger nails. She smiles at me, but I don’t return he gesture. “Where’s Kate?” I ask instead.

“Beats me.” She responds, returning her attention to a cellphone.

I groan in frustration, I can still feel the heavy music ringing in my ears. The sound won’t dissolve and I don’t know what it will take to make it. I walk back into my room, turning the lights on. James’ whimpers in response, moving himself from the floor. He comes to stand but his two feet betray him as his head collides to the front of my bed. “What the fûck!” He yells, angrily.

His failed attempt has caused a small laugh to interrupt from my mouth, he catches my gaze and smiles brightly. “Hey there,” he rubs the back of his now wounded skull.

“Hello.” I say awkwardly, averting my eyesight from his.

“Last night was amazing.” He moans the words and I almost throw up.

My eyebrows come in a fair line, the smile that once rested on my lips hardens in a fine line. “Excuse me?”

His eyes narrow at the sight of my scowl. “The party I meant.” He corrects himself.

My patience has reached it’s compactly. “Please leave my room.”

He rolls his eyes, features changing. “Fine. We didn’t fûck, you can relax. I just put you to bed.”

I don’t respond to his attempt in making the situation any better, I am relieved however. What a mess it would have been. I give him a small nod and lead him out my bedroom. What a fool.

Closing the door behind him, I peel of my dirty clothing. I’m left in my undergarments as I search for a fresh pair of attire. I can finally hear Kate’s voice. Her obnoxious screams are heard from the hallways of our dorm. She lingers the words as they fall from her trap. I sigh in annoyance, knowing she can’t hear me. I finally find a pair of leggings.

My upper body is still not covered when an angry Kate steams into my room, her red dress from last night fades in color along with her tan completion. “Can I help you?” I ask. I try to cover my bare skin with anything present around me. She has already seen enough of my peeled body so I give up the search.

Kate’s eyes wander across my room until she spots what she’s looking for. She walks towards the device, not addressing me whatsoever. “James is an àsshole.” She says, not explaining her reason and grabs what I assume is his cellphone, she paces towards the door and slams it behind her.

I’m still shirtless, in search for a damn shirt. My closet is a mess, I have never seen it this way. I usually keep it in tact but this is horrible. It must have been Kate, she’s a mess in everything she touches. I roll my eyes at the sight, picking up a blue sweatshirt.


I cross the street to the familiar book store that I’ve grown found of. The place is neat but reeks of a certain stench, I can’t describe it. I sit to the far left against one of the bookshelf, cornering the space to myself. I open the lecture notes to finally form my thoughts back together.

Quite frankly, I wouldn’t have been able to master this case--or any other without the help of his freakishly organized slides. It’s as if he’s thought of every single detail. The blue ink he uses--covers my pages. Although the print out has bulletin points, he still finds the need to add his own ideas to the column of the page.

I surely hope I get the Silverman’s case. Not only is it the most interesting, it’s also the only case he provides that has been solved. Every other file he has instructed fails and results with a dead end.

I groan in frustration, there’s no way I can not complete this assignment. I begin to throw my books back into my bag, creating a bigger mess of what’s already there. I’m about to stand on my feet when I notice him at the far end of the bookshelf. I don’t actually recognize his presence until he turns around.

He’s alone, and he’s wearing a dark leather jacket and awfully tight black jeans, but I know it’s him. The double rings around his long finger cross and shine against the tiled floors. I can smell the strong mint breaking down from his tongue and into the air around me. His eyebrows form a thin line across his forehead. He’s distracted with the many choices of genres. I watch as he picks one off the bookshelf; he squints his eyes in dissatisfaction and places it back, sighing to himself.

“It seems as when you mention Jane Austen, Pride And Prejudice is the only thing people seem to know about this author.” I’m surprised when he speaks. At first I think he’s not mentioning this to me but his eyes meet mine.

“I suppose.” I say, casually-not meaning much of it.

“You suppose what Miss Amelia? I thought we discussed that smart mouth of yours.” He smiles, looking down to my hands. What is it with him and hands?

“I suppose there’s much other works that are just as good as Pride.” I say. “Like Emma, Sens-”

“-sense and Sensibility, The Beautiful Cassandra and my favorite which just happens to be Persuasion.” He cuts me off with continuing and I’m glad he does. I wanted to hear that low rasp in his voice again. He chuckles proudly, finding what he was looking for I assume. His smiles at the soft covered book in between his hands, I recognize the book. The Giver.

When he’s done admiring it, he walks over to where I am seated and brings himself down-the very thin t-shirt provides the perfect view to the muscles flexing underneath as he gets into a comfortable position on the floor. His long legs stay before him, crossing at the ankles.

“Why is it your favorite?” I ask. His eyes turn to mine, and there’s a glint of curiosity?

“Falling for her teacher, what a classic.” He says those words, carefully too carefully.

My eyes widen, my cheeks flame with heat and I sit there dumbfounded. He smirks, crossing his arms. “Something interest you?”

“No professor.” I bite my lip unintentionally,

“Is he your boyfriend?” He asks all of the sudden, changing the tone of his voice. The question comes out of his mouth in a rush.

“Who?” I question his curiosity.

“That kid from the party.” His hands grab at the book in between his palms, as if the thought of James angers his mind.

“Are you asking because you care or because you’re curious?”

“I’m asking because you want me to ask.” He simply states. The tone of his voice has lightened, I’m assuming he’s embarrassed. But then again I can’t seem to ever know what he’s thinking.

I don’t push it, instead I respond to his statement; giving him the answer he lurks for. “No. He is not.”

“Hmm,” He licks his lips, wetting the surface of the skin. “Very well then.” He stands up.

He extends his arm out, holding his hand for me, and I gladly take it. The warmth of his palm collects with mine and I’ve never felt someone’s heartbeat quicken through their skin. Standing to my feet, I watch him gather my bag and his lecture notes. “Make sure you read these. I put a lot of work into them.” He brushes his fingertips across the blue ink. “My assignments are not that difficult if you read my footnotes.” I nod in agreement, promising to go over his work. I probably won’t but he won’t know.

We walk out the book store and he halts in place. “See you tomorrow Miss Amelia.” My phone vibrates in my pocket and I’m forced to say goodbye on the streets. I watch him cross the road as I peel my phone from my back pocket.

I have one new message. I’m not aware of the receiver but it reads from an Unknown ID. I open the text and it reads:

He’s not worth it,

Stay Away

Panic rises, my heart rate quickens. I’m afraid to look up knowing there might be someone watching me. I can’t bare to even grasp the idea of a stalker. I re-read the words as the screen flashes before me. Stay away? What are they implying I stay away from?

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