See You Around, Green Eyes

“All the good girls go to hell. ’Cause even God herself has enemies. And once the water starts to rise and heaven’s out of sight, she’ll want the devil on her team.”—Billie Eilish.

Chapter Theme Song: ‘all the good girls go to hell’ by Billie Eilish.

••

Harmony

The day has dawn crisp and bright, as the sun drips its yellow yolk through the open window, covering the room with its soft orange hue. I open bleary eyes to regard the clock sitting on the wooden table next to me.

7:05 am.

I have class at eight and I’d hate to be late for my first lecture, so although my eyes are heavy and I feel like I’ve been running a thousand miles per hour, I have to gather the strength to get up.

I knew attending that orientation-party thingy last night was a bad idea. Feeling lethargic on your first day isn’t something you’d want to start the term with. I’ve been able to overcome the countless amount of peer pressure during high school, hence, I am not sure why I allowed my roommate to influence me to attend that social gathering last night.

It was not an orientation—well not the type that I am used to, and the only thing I attained from it all was a weird boy gawking at me as if I had a booger in my nose. Stripping oneself in front of a bunch of screaming girls has nothing to do with the curriculum of Homewood furthermore, and I don’t see how it’d assist me with getting my degree. This is one weird college.

A hand sprawling over the top-bed tells me that April is still asleep. I had high hopes of getting the top section of the bunk bed, but after returning last night to see a giant spider hovering above the headboard, I decided that a little squeak is far more optional than insects.

I reach for my duffel bag from the floor beside me and begin digging through for something to wear to class. I settle with a beige skirt and a white long-sleeved top.

I get up from my bed, grimacing at the cold tiles as I mince my way to the bathroom. The space is small and consists of a shower, a toilet, a face basin, and a white wooden cabinet. I place my chosen pair onto a small table in the corner before quickly stripping out of my clothes. I brush my teeth then get under the shower, switching the pipe on and sighing when the cool water begins to race down my body.

Early morning showers are the best. It makes for a reenergized spirit and offers a short moment of mediation before embarking on a long day. I will need energy today more than anything. College is not high school, and I know it’s going to take some serious effort for me to get accustomed to the change in curriculum and environment. It’s especially difficult for someone like me whose skin crawls at the sight of new faces. Changes are not something I am fond of.

After a long moment of self-reflection, I finally turn the pipe off and climb out of the shower. I dry off then get dressed before exiting the bathroom with my worn clothes in hand.

April is finally up and making her bed, and I smile as I put away the clothes I had taken off.

“Good morning.”

She swings her head around and her eyes rake over my attire. I shift in discomfort as she ogles me from head to toe.

“Good morning. Are you wearing that to class?”

My eyebrows furrow in puzzlement as I assess my clothes. “Uhm...yeah. Why?” Certainly, there is nothing wrong with my choice of attire. I dress rather conservatively; my legs and cleavage are always covered. I just feel it is always best to leave things to people’s imagination.

“Nothing...” She purses her lips. “Nothing at all.”

“Do I look weird?”

“No, no. You just look...different...from the people here.”

I tilt my head in confusion, and she smiles. “It’s not something bad. I just think you’re modest, is all.”

I smile. “Thank you. Uhm, should I wait for you?”

She shakes her head, climbing down from her bed and bracing her waists. “No, we don’t have the same classes anyway and I don’t want you to be tardy so we can catch up later.”

Thank God. She doesn’t seem like she will be ready anytime soon and I am running late.

“Sure?” I ask, in a bid to be courteous but I am secretly hoping her answer remains the same.

“Yeah I am sure, see you later.”

“Okay bye.” I smile as I grab my knapsack from the floor, waving weirdly before turning away and heading out.

••

The classes so far are torturously boring. I am not sure what I expected from college but it’s really not that great. People paint such a perfect picture of it—perhaps that’s why I had such high expectations. Or maybe I am the one who refuses to let my hair down a little.

I am an English major, and I have a deep love for literature, music, and art. I wish I was able to pursue all of them at once, but I knew I had to choose one for now. My mom thinks that you don’t necessarily need a degree in art or music. She believes that those talents aren’t learned but something that comes naturally.

I am now sitting in English class, diligently copying the notes that Mr. Jones is jotting on the board.

I hear the door to the theatre opens and half of the class turn their heads in the direction.

My eyes unintentionally widen as soon as they grace Blaze Xander.

He’s in this class?

I almost get whiplash as I focus ahead quickly, writing scribbly from anxiety as I recall the countless amount of warnings the girls gave me last night.

Stay away from him.

Don’t let him near you.

He’s heartless.

You will regret it.

“Hello.”

I look up to see him pulling out a chair from the large table next to me, and it creaks against the floor loudly, causing the lecturer to glance around in sheer annoyance. Blaze doesn’t seem to care for his professor’s rebuking gaze as he plops down next to me with a toothy smile. “So nice to see you here.”

His appealing scent from last night dominates the air-conditioned room and he’s even more handsome in the daytime.

Today he’s wearing a green long-sleeved shirt that hugs his built and black fitted jeans. A small silver necklace hangs around his neck and both ears are adorned with small hoop earrings. His dark hair is faded at the sides with thick black curls on top, and his lips are so red that I am convinced he applies lip-gloss.

I am not sure what to say to his greeting and so I refocus on my notebook to continue taking my notes.

He frowns. “A hi would be nice.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek silently, and he grabs his book from his bag as he speaks again. “How old are you?”

Really?

I look at him. I want to ask why he posed that question, but I figure it is best if I don’t speak. He will eventually realize that this conversation is one-sided and stops talking. Hopefully.

“You look like sixteen,” he continues. “Or fifteen the least.”

I look a lot younger than my age; it’s something I greatly detest. When you look petite in size people take it as an invitation to try to walk all over you. It happened a few times in high school and I am not about to let the incidents repeat themselves in college.

“I am eighteen,” I clarify.

Did I just respond?

Wow, Harmony, the one time you should be quiet you decide to speak. How ironic.

He grins widely then pretends to look alarmed. His blue orbs dancing with amusement. “Woah, and she speaks.”

His dimples have resurfaced, and my cheeks turn pink for some weird reason. I avert my eyes to my notebook again, gripping my pen harder. He makes me feel really weird.

“Your voice is sexy,” he comments.

My body stiffens as a chunk load of heat spreads over my face. No-one has ever used that word to describe me before. Sexy is just an unbefitting adjective for someone like me. Short, tiny, quiet, reserve, but sexy? It’s odd.

I look up at him and he is now focusing on his notebook as he opens it.

I catch a brilliantly drawn animation on a page, and as he’s about to turn it, I grip his hand quickly and impulsively.

He looks at me with wide eyes and I draw back, embarrassed that a mere drawing pulled me from my shell. When it comes to my creative interests, my brain tends to operate and make decisions without my permission. I annoy myself sometimes with how sudden and awkward my actions can be.

The corner of Blaze’s lips quirks up in a smile. “You wanna see?”

I nod a little and he pushes the book across to me.

I gaze at the artwork in fascination. It is of the Japanese anime character ‘Naruto.’ I can tell, but the thing is half of his face is smiling and the other half looks...sad? Did he draw this? It is so beautifully creative. Each line is formed to perfection, with no trace of indecision or lack of skill, and his color saturation is clean and well defined. Wouldn’t expect this talent from someone with his form of social status and appearance.

“Is this yours?” I ask and he nods, twirling his pen on his fingers skillfully. “Yeah, you like it?”

I smile a little. Like? I love it. I stare at the drawing, getting lost in the feelings it evokes. The image looks happy yet undeniably melancholic as if it serves to portray an emotional battle within oneself. It is deep. I am not sure why, but I like it a whole lot.

He is remarkably talented. Just like me. Maybe we could be friends?

“Stay away from him”

“Don’t let him near you”

Or maybe not.

I close the book and slide it across to him, biting my lip as drop my gaze back to my notebook.

He smiles. “Tell you what,” he begins and I look at him. “Come to my room later and I’ll teach you how to draw that. We could work on some art pieces together too.”

His room?

He realizes that my eyes immediately narrow and he chuckles. “It’s not what you think. Look, April’s words must have scared you off last night, but I am not that bad.”

I find it odd that out of all the places on campus he chose his room as the most suitable location.

I blink at him silently, and he sighs. Strangely, his eyes don’t reflect how troubled he is despite his exhalation. They have an estranged look in them, a vacant glint that I can’t quite explain.

He places his palms on the back of his head, leaning back comfortably. “I guess the girls ruined my image.”

It’s not fair for someone to dictate to you whether or not you should interact with someone without you getting a chance to know them for yourself. I know that, but I just don’t think it is right to be in a guy’s dorm. My mom would not approve of it and my conscience won’t allow me to follow through with it even though I am not in her presence. God is watching me.

“It’s not because of April,” I justify. “I just don’t think that it is a good idea to be in a guy’s room...alone.”

Finally, his orbs display some form of emotion as a hint of amazement flashed across his irises. He nods, smiling composedly. “Okay, noted.”

I purse my lips and return my eyes to the board as I continue writing, and he stays silent after that.

I corner-eye him every ten seconds, and he’s either scribbling graffiti on the smooth, spotless desk, fiddling with the ring on his finger or just humming something beneath his breath—anything other than taking his notes. His page has been blanked this whole time, whilst I am unto my fifth page. Everyone is different though, maybe he learns by listening.

Class finally ends and students conjure up from their seats as I stuff my notebook into my bag.

“I will see you around, green eyes." Blaze smirks, as he grabs his bag and jogs out of the class.

He doesn’t seem disappointed that I rejected his request; he appears nonchalant and unfazed. Maybe he has someone else he could draw with? Judging by how the first years were going crazy for him last night I guess he has several other options. I’m sure the tiny redhead would pipe up at the opportunity.

I zip my rucksack up while Mr. Jones looks up at me from his podium. “Uhm, excuse me, miss...”

“Skye,” I acknowledge. “Harmony Skye.”

He smiles and gestures me over with his hand. “Come here for a minute.”

He spins the waists of his roomy trousers while I fix my bag onto my shoulders. Standing up, I walk down to where he stands while adjusting the straps of my rucksack.

He scratches his nose and glances in the direction of the doorway; probably checking to see if the class is clear.

“I saw you sitting beside Blaze Xander today,” he starts by saying, and I pull my sleeves down as an anxious habit.

Am I in trouble for just sitting beside Blaze? This isn’t kindergarten.

“Uhm, okay....” I mutter when he doesn’t say anything else for a second.

He laughs, showcasing wrinkles at the corners of his hazel eyes. He’s a middle-aged man based on observation, with thick black hair lined with streaks of white.

“Don’t look so frightened, Skye. I just think you should stay away from boys like those.”

Another warning. I am now confused. What’s so bad about him? He seemed nice earlier. He even respected my reason for not agreeing to his proposal. Why are they painting this picture that I cannot see?

“May I ask why?” I query, and he sighs.

“He doesn’t have good intentions. Just be careful of him. I know he’s handsome and charming but that’s his weapon, you’re a first-year so you may not know.”

I am not one to judge, but they have known him way longer than I have, so taking their advice would be the smartest decision.

I nod. “Oh, okay...”

He smiles and gestures to the door, and I turn around and walk away.