Today is the first day of University and a new journey for me. I started a part-time job over the summer. This was not my ideal choice but I work in a coffee shop, which helps pay the rent to a small apartment I have been living in since I was seventeen. I have been able to save up some of the money earned for my tuition too. I’m alone with no one and nothing much to my name.
My parents died in an explosion that occurred at a hotel while on a business trip. It was featured all over the news and media. We had everything, and I was their only child.
When they died, I had to give up our house and what was left of the money and I was forced to look for a small apartment. That is where I have been living ever since. The money didn’t last, and I had to sell many of the things we owned until I had nothing more to give away.
That’s how I ended up working in the coffee shop with no experience. Fortunately for me, the owner was kind enough to offer the job to me.
History has always fascinated me. From war to the Queen, and everything. My ambition in life is to become a history professor someday in the future. So, this is my first day at Beacon university to make that dream come true.
I walked down the building’s corridor, where some students were walking, standing around and chatting with each other, laughter erupted from one group as I walked past them to my classroom. I’m always one to be punctual. I don’t have friends, and I’m yet to develop the need for them. After what happened last year, I have learned that friends can stab you in the back, and I’ve never fully recovered from it.
No one was in my history class when I entered it. I walked further into the classroom and took a seat at the third desk in the middle row. I had a pair of black skinny jeans on, a black t-shirt and white converse sneakers. My straight brunette hair was loose, and I had a natural makeup look on that still made my golden brown eyes stand out. It was only for my first day. I am a petite, yet curvy, young woman.
I took my history books out of my satchel and placed them on top of my desk. I set my satchel on the ground beside me and crossed my legs, opening my books to get ready for the lesson. I grabbed the pen with my right hand, sitting with one elbow on the desk and rest my head on my hand as I read through a page about the Treaty of Versailles.
I heard shuffling as the students entered the classroom. One thing about me is that I prefer to be alone and only talk when it is necessary. I now shift and lean against the back of my desk, never taking my eyes off the passage that I am reading from the textbook.
The last year taught me a bitter lesson- never trust anyone. Not even friends, because they will do anything to destroy you, even when you did absolutely nothing wrong to them. The embarrassment that I had to face hurt me, and I just had to take it all in.
Being alone is far better than trying to fit in. It also doesn’t have to make me a people pleaser. Whenever I spoke, I would be spoken over. So, I would remain quiet.
“Hey, do you have the rest of the semester’s schedule?” A girl whispered behind me.
I page through my textbook, taking out my semester schedule, turn around, and hand it over to her. “Thank you,” she whispered with a smile.
I turned back around, and I heard a throat clear, just as I wanted to keep on reading.
“Welcome to your first year at Beacon university. I am Professor James, your history professor.” I looked up from the textbook and my breath hitched, making me feel like someone had sucked all the air out of me.
My heartbeat was the only sound that I heard and nothing else.
His magnetic blue eyes held my gaze and he seemed to be frozen into place as he looked at me. This feels like a nightmare and a dream wrapped up all in one.
He cleared his throat, breaking eye contact with me, and I looked down at my textbook, hoping for this to be a dream. I move my tongue over my bottom lip, to moisten it from being dry.
I swallowed as my throat feels dry, too. “We will be doing the Treaty of Versailles for a start.” He said. His voice still sounds the same and I took a deep breath as I looked up to see if he was truly real.
I find his eyes already on me and I swallowed again. I do not know whether I should leave or remain seated here.
A guy in front of me plops a stack of pages on my desk and that broke our eye contact. I move my hair behind my ear as I took a page from the pile and pass the rest to the back. I focus my attention on the page instead.
I cannot look at him because of what happened.
“Following the July Crisis in 1914, an unexpected war broke out. Austria-Hungary then declared war on Serbia, prompting the majority of European powers to enter the First World War. The July Crisis, as you may know, was a series of interconnected diplomatic and military escalations between Europe’s major powers in 1914. As a result, World War 1 broke out.”
I listened to what he was saying but my mind was not on the lesson at all. My throat feels like it’s closing up and the next thing I find best to do is to leave the room.
I packed up my things in a hurry and I heard him ask, “Miss Marshal, is there a problem?” I remain silent and continued packing my things. I feel immense heat, as if I had been in an oven baking for too long. I stood up and sling my satchel over my shoulder as I hurried out of the classroom.
Cool air hit my skin as I stop outside the classroom door, and I close my eyes letting out a sigh of relief. Opening my eyes, I began to walk down the hall. I need to get to the bathroom so that I can spend the rest of the class period there.
I heard a door slam shut, but I do not look back at all. “Miss Marshal!” I heard him call after me and I hasten my pace, but then I feel a hand grip my wrist, stopping me. I turn to look at him and his brows were furrowed. “Why did you leave my class without permission?” he asked with his jaw clenched, and his blue eyes dark.
He had never had this attitude before.
It developed after what happened to us.
“Get back to my class!” He demanded. I swallowed as I feel the sparks like electricity as he maintained his grip on my wrist.
I breathe in his familiar delicious scent. “I don’t want to cause any harm to you,” I said.
“I told you to get back to class.” He repeated while holding my gaze.
“You shouldn’t be touching me.” I said as I started to feel suffocated by him, and he let go of my wrist like he had gotten burned. He took a step back and kept on holding my gaze.
The man that I had hoped would not see me again was standing right in front of me. I would not waste my tuition money, but I could try to change classes even though it was going to be something I would hate.
I cannot face him even though I try.