Cid (working title) - 1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

After nearly falling asleep to the drone of the economics professor, Cid shook himself awake. He had art class next and like hell he’d miss that one.

He glanced at his watch and saw it was only twenty minutes into the hour-long dissertation…err class. He rolled his eyes and started to doodle in his notebook.

A snicker caught his attention and he scowled at the perpetrator.

“You still use paper? What are you, 40?”

Cid fought the urge to spit out a snappy comeback, but it was almost too much temptation.

“Nope, but at least I look old enough to be here.”

The other guy rolled his eyes.

“Funny. Real original, freak.”

That word got under Cid’s skin faster than almost anything; even being accused of being old.

“You got a problem, loser? Why don’t you get your eyes back on your damn screen and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Sure, freak. I’ve seen girls with your haircolor, but no guys.”

This was getting personal now. Cid loved his lilac locks. He dyed them himself and kept it long, to his shoulders. Everyone in his art class loved it and he kept it for college. Apparently here it deterred people instead of drew them in.

“Piss off. Why don’t you tone down your garish hair?” he shot back, eyeing the bright red of his classmate’s locks.

“Not a chance. Scotland pride and all. Weirdo.” He snarled and shook his head. “Pay attention. I’ll switch seats tomorrow.”

Thank goodness for that one. For once, Cid looked forward to the next day, when he didn’t have to deal with this snarky son of a bitch.

*  *  *   *

Art class had been awesome! Cid had a reputation that had caught the professor’s attention already. His portfolio was extensive and included acrylics, oils, and sketches.

Everyone had shown off their favorite works as a way of introducing their own styles. Cid could never pin himself down so much, so he just painted what he likes; usually landscapes. He didn’t like to deal with people much, or even look at them.

Lunchtime came quickly after the two-hour class. He considered it a vacation compared to what he’d had to sit through earlier.

He got into line and sniffed the air. It smelled like a grill or grease fire had occurred recently; and the food looked it too. Hamburgers, fries, burnt chicken breasts…and pizza. Nothing looked very appealing to be honest; but he had to eat something. This was all on the free plan, and he strongly considered getting a part-time job just to have money to buy his own food.

After an excruciatingly long wait in line, the slow cashier moved him along and he snatched up a spot by himself near the back of the room. He had zero desire for human contact unless it was the off chance of being another art student. Then he’d offer up a smidgen of interaction, then bolt.

Naturally, just when he tried to repel people the most, someone always tried to make him sociable.

A strawberry blond guy took a seat at the table next to him and began a starefest from hell. He looked the guy up and down without trying to look like he was doing so. He opened his notebook and tried to look occupied, but the guy’s gaze would not waiver. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, strong, muscular, but not a beefy type. He wore gray knit shorts and a sleeveless red tee with the school’s logo on it. His hair was very short and spiked, and his large feet were stuffed into sandals.

Cid ate faster, he wanted to leave this situation as quickly as possible. His new could-be nemesis apparently ate faster though and got up to approach him.

Fuck. No. Stay over there you butthead. Let me eat in peace.

No luck. The guy pulled out the chair opposite Cid and plunked himself down. The creepiest thing is that all he’d do is stare.

Finally, this got on Cid’s nerves enough to speak.

“Stop.”

“What?” the perp asked oh so innocently.

“That fucking staredown. I’m not interested, dude.”

A greasy smile spread across the guy’s full lips. “That’s what you say now.”

Alarm bells went off in Cid’s brain and he tossed his notebook into his backpack and zipped it up. He didn’t say another word to the creepo. He left the room and passed by the dean’s office just to be sure he wasn’t followed.