You're Not Just My TA

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Shelby, Nov 14, 2015.

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  1. A new fall semester for college has begun, and the newly become Junior finds herself heading to a class that she would rather find herself farther away from. Why did she have to take this class when it would do nothing to help with their major? Why did she have to sit in a class, listening to a professor drone on and on about a subject that she could care less about? And why did she have to take a discussion portion of the class because of the massive size of the lecture portion of it?

    That, at least, had been the Junior's line of reasoning when they finally stepped into the classroom of a class that she just knew she would hate and would pay no sort of attention in. When the TA for the discussion part of the class walked in, she thought nothing of the person; she played on her phone, only looked up when her name was called for attendance, and then glanced over the syllabus as it was passed out to her.

    As the Junior had originally thought, she cared less for the class and only found herself putting in half-assed work as she continued to spend more time working on her other, more important, classes. But what happens when the first major assignment comes around and the Junior finds herself struggling with the assignment, forcing her to go to the TA's office hours to talk with him?

    For some reason, throughout the talk, the Junior finds herself drawn to TA, and, eventually, starts to find excuses for why she wanted to go to their office hours. What if, by some reasoning, the two end up becoming closer as the TA, too, becomes drawn to his student? And what if the TA is already stuck in a relationship, unwilling and afraid to leave due to the abusiveness of his long term girlfriend?

    Intro to International Politics; why in the absolute fuck did she decide to put this class on her schedule?

    Peyton O'Neil couldn't help but groan as she trudged her way across the sidewalk towards the business building at her college, her eyes shifting back and forth to watch the students that meandered about the general courtyard area of the campus as some laid in the grass in study groups, leaning over and looking over their books, while others ran around on the grass, throwing Frisbees and footballs to one another. People in clusters of groups walked past her, moving around her as they made their way to their own destinations, probably in a better mood than Peyton herself was in.

    She ran a hand through her hair and looked up, her brows furrowing as she stopped and looked up at the business building. So, we meet again, she couldn't help but mockingly think to herself as she snorted and headed up the steps to the double glass doors. She moved over to the side, watched as other people opened the doors to head out of the large, brick building, before she finally moved to make her way inside. She thanked the guy who held the door open for her and let the cool air conditioned air sweep over her skin.

    So, it seemed like they still tended to keep this place an ice box. There was another reason why she had hoped to have never had to take another class in this building; she always felt as if she needed a jacket, even when it was hot outside.

    She should have never taken the advice of her adviser. She should have stuck with her own mind and taken a different humanities course to use up for an elective.

    "I think you'll do fine in that class!" The man had told her when she sat in his office three months ago for advising as she pondered over which classes she should and wanted to take for the upcoming fall semester that was now upon them. "A lot of pre-vet students have taken it and have said that it was easy. It, hopefully, won't drop your GPA, you'll still have time to focus on your other studies, so what can be bad about that?"

    What could be bad? The fact that, during the lecture portion of the class--a class that was full of over two hundred students--Peyton found herself nearly falling asleep. And they even had the nerve to issue out assigned seating for the students based on their section for the discussion portion of the class so that they could keep track of attendance. Right, because they actually really cared about the students coming to class.

    Perhaps she was being too pessimistic about the whole thing. Maybe she should open her horizons up and embrace a class that had nothing to do with her major and would do nothing to further her knowledge for what she wanted to do in life. She pursed her lips at the thought. No, why would she do that? She was only taking this class because she had to; she wasn't taking it to actually learn anything. Besides, the deadline for dropping a class ended today, so, for the most part, she was stuck unless she wanted to have a 'W' stamped on her transcripts.

    She she would be damned if that ever happened, along with her ever having anything lower than a 'B' stamped on there for a grade.

    After turning down another corridor and going up another flight up steps, Peyton finally found herself on the floor that she needed to be. She looked down and reached into her pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper that held her schedule on there. Third class of the day on Wednesday; well, if anything, at least the discussion class was only once a week. Didn't help that the lecture portion was two times a week, however.

    The idle chatter from students in classrooms and in the hall waiting for classes to begin rang through Peyton's ears as she scoured the numbers on the doors to find what class was hers. When she finally found it, she huffed out a sigh, put her paper back in her pocket, and then opened the door to reveal the small classroom. It reminded her of what her high school classes looked like, though instead of having desk set for twenty people, this class only had a desk set of fifteen--the amount of students in the section. A desk for the TA sat in the front of the class in front of a white board already smeared with half erased words.

    There were four other people in the class so far; all of them looking bored as they had their heads bent, looking down at their phones as one tapped on the screen quickly while the others listened to music that could faintly be heard playing through their headphones.

    Peyton took a seat in the middle of the class; not too far in the back, but then again not too far in the front. Her eyes looked up, catching sight of the clock that hung on the wall as it slowly ticked on. Ten minutes before class began. Great.
    #1 Shelby, Nov 14, 2015
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 15, 2016
  2. Another new semester meant a new batch of students; new faces to learn, names to remember, and heads to cram knowledge into. That was the intention anyway. For twenty-four year old Robin Miller, it was simply another task to get through so he can earn his Masters in International Relations and get a stable government job.

    The first batch of students weren't exactly a bright or engaging bunch. Those six months were terribly labourious. Despite the usually high enrollment numbers for this subject, there were only a few of them that would continue on to pursue a Politics related major. Many of them, he suspected, only enrolled so they could sound smart when talking to their friends about a news article they stumbled on reddit or Facebook; only for said student to, tragically, misinform their peers of what was actually in the article because they couldn't be arsed to: a, actually read the article and b, pay attention in class.

    Such a subject also meant he had encountered his fair share of crazies. The conspiracy theorists, the extreme conservatives, the extreme libertarians, those 'world citizen' extremists. That's not to say he had all of them in his class last semester. His colleagues would often exchange stories of their classes. Luckily for him, he only had a 9/11 denier...and a bunch of bored students Facebooking on their laptops.

    Yeah. Lucky.

    It was dreadfully exhausting to try and force a discussion among students. It was even more exhausting when they don't seem remotely interested in the subject. He had hoped that maybe this semester would bring a more engaging set of students but judging by the four that have arrived early so far, it sadly doesn't seem to be the case. It's discouraging really; how he's expected to act professional and teach when most of them couldn't give a shit. How many of them actually took notes during the lecture, he wondered.

    Robin let out a discreet yawn as he continued writing on the board, ruffling his disheveled brown hair as he did so. It's hard being a grad student, especially in this economy. His part time job as an office clerk was barely enough to pay the rent. Sometimes he wondered how different his life would be if he had majored in Economics like his father had told him to do.

    He looked over his shoulder at the door as he heard it open. Another student, a girl, walked in. Hey, almost half the class is early. That beats his previous record of one!

    Finishing up on the board, he sat down on his own desk. On it, a few papers, the subject's textbook, and the attendance sheet.

    "Alright guys, can I get your names for the attendance sheet? Just say your name and I'll tick you off."

    That sounded a little more disinterested than he would have liked it to be.
  3. Even the TA seemed as if he would rather be somewhere else. Peyton caught the yawn that the man took the part in trying to hide as he stood at the board, writing down information about what had been talked about during the lecture the other day. Apparently this wasn't going to be a syllabus only day, much like the lecture portion, and the thought nearly made the student groan as she huffed out a breath and turned to look down at her phone that she pulled out of her pocket. Of course, she knew that it was to be expected that not every class she took would have an easy day on the first day of class; oh, on the contrary, it seemed as if most of her professors she had already had the pleasure of meeting for class were on the track of 'we start now and don't stop until the end of the semester, no matter what'. But it was fine in those other classes. She was ready to hit the books in her science and math classes to learn more useful information that would potentially help her get into vet school.

    But this class? Why couldn't they just be given their syllabuses and told to leave and read up on the material and pay attention in lecture so that they would be ready to talk come next Wednesday?

    Peyton's phone buzzed with a text just as the TA started speaking, wanting to know all of their names so that he could check their name off on the roll. Everyone was silent at first, not willing to speak and break the silence of the awkwardly quiet class room. It was only broken as the door opened again, revealing a boy and girl student who obviously knew each other as they had their attentions set on one another as they talked. Probably a frat guy and a sorority girl, Peyton mused, though she shook her head and turned her eyes to look away from the couple as they quickly headed to the back of the class and sat right next to each other.

    The first student finally spoke and said his name as Peyton turned and looked back down at her phone. Another student went after that, and then another and then the rest of the class until it was her turn to speak up. Pursing her lips, after sending the text about meeting up in the union to get some lunch with her roommate, Peyton lifted her head up. "Peyton O'Neil," she said, simply as she pocketed her phone.

    Throughout the rest of the time it took before class began, students filed into the room and took the empty seats, saying their names and letting the TA know who they were after they got themselves settled. Peyton kept her eyes on the clock, and when it finally stuck for class to begin, she looked around the class room. Only two desk had yet to be filled, but she figured those students either weren't going to show up or that they were going to be late. Soon after, she turned her attention to the TA, tiredly looking at him as she waited for him to begin.
  4. Robin ticked off the names as they were called one by one, trying his absolute best not to look as disinterested as his tone suggested before. The head professor was very specific in giving out instructions to the teachers that would be conducting the discussion portion; let's just say that his methods were, for a lack of a better word, old fashioned. It sounded like an extension of the lecture; they simply had to read out information and the students would jot them down. It's like the professor was using this time to cram every bit of information into the subject without making the students think critically about what was being told to them. Wait, that's exactly what he's trying to do. Not on his watch! Hopefully.

    As the students trickled in he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. A text from Maggie, his girlfriend, asking what he was doing later tonight. At least he could always count on her to brighten his day. Technically, he needed to start on making the lesson plan for next week's discussion class but that spot just freed up. Shooting a quick reply to relay said information, he pocketed his phone and turned back to the class who, surprise surprise, are still glued to their phones.

    He watched silently for the clock to signal the start of the lesson. There were a couple of missing students but that's not his problem. He cleared his throat to get the students' attention and they reluctantly put down their devices; most of them anyway. Folding his glasses into his shirt pocket, he began to speak.

    "Alright. I'm Robin Miller and I'll be heading your discussion class for the next twelve weeks. You can call me Robin or Mr. Miller; whatever takes your fancy. Getting some admin stuff out of the way first; my hours are flexible so if you need any help or have any questions you can shoot me an email here," he says, pausing to write his email on the board. "Second, Dr. Millingham should have already gone through the syllabus and course structure with you but I'll brush over it once again before the end of class. Lastly, welcome to Intro to intpol and I hope you enjoy your stay."

    Ok. Yes. That sounded much more enthusiastic. Good job, Robin.

    He began the class with an easy discussion point; the event which many scholars argue as the start of modern international politics. He asked if anyone remembered it from the lecture. He leaned against his desk, glancing over the students. As usual, the students were hesitant to speak up; not wanting to be the dreaded first to contribute for the fear of a wrong answer, even if the question was straightforward. Luckily, a boy near the front answered, a little timidly perhaps, but the act encouraged more students to speak up. Now we're getting somewhere.

    As he predicted, the topic shifted into the subject of realism; one of the most widely studied political theories. Now for a more open ended question.

    "So, can somebody suggest why realism has persisted as a major theory for over half a century?"

    The floor once open once more but no one wanted to answer this question. It required a degree of opinion which it seemed they weren't ready to divulge. He'll have to make them ready.

    "How about you? Yes, you, the girl in the middle. You've been rather quiet so far. Why don't you give us your thoughts."
  5. Despite her unwillingness to want to pay any sort of attention to the class or to the man standing at the front of the class, when his voice rang out, signalling the beginning of class, Peyton found her back straightening as her left hand instantly went to hold onto her pencil. She grimaced at the feeling, her lips twitching with near disgust as she tried to relax her body enough to where she was able to lean her back against the seat again, sighing. There, a little more relaxed. Her eyes blinked as they strayed over to the man as he spoke, introducing himself to the class as the TA for the discussion course, his voice much more upbeat than it had been when he had been asking for everyone's names before it all started. The tone in voice grabbed some student's attention, causing them to turn away from their phones to pay attention, though the general populace of the class still, over all, seemed to already be over the class.

    And Peyton had no doubt that she was one of those said students with her already bored gaze and with another huff of a disgruntled breath leaving past her lips.

    She wrote down the information that he wrote on the board, taking down his email address as well as the building that his office resided in with the office hours written right next to it. Though she doubted if she would ever need such information--no, she was determined to never go to any of his office hours or even email him about anything--it was still good information to have. After all, she had had a professor once before have on a test of what his office hours were. Talk about a stupid question... Nevertheless, it served the purpose that she realized later on he was trying to make: always know a professor's office hours no matter what.

    Still, that didn't serve as any help to get her to pay attention. As the lesson was started, she kept one ear on the conversation at hand while her mind wandered else where in the recesses of her mind. Her pencil twirled in her hand as her head slowly turned to look at the wall, her eyes blank, her mouth in a steady straight line. One of the girls sitting next to her spoke up, causing Peyton to jerk slightly, but she pushed the movement off and went back to her musing of the other homework she had to complete for tomorrow once she got back to her apartment, thinking that it was going to be a feat to accomplish what with her roommate going to be there, no doubt wanting to talk endlessly about what ever the hell happened to her earlier that day if her text indicated that she had something 'exciting' to tell.

    Oh God, she could already imagine that headache that would create. Maybe she should stick herself in the library for the better part of the evening after this; she had her laptop with her, after all, as well as the book she needed to complete the homework, so would there really be a problem with staying away for a while longer than she had originally planned?

    Her brows furrowed at that, but it wasn't until a silence hung over the room that Peyton finally snapped back to attention. The hairs on the back of her neck stood as she blinked her eyes, coming back into focus. She turned her had to look around, watching as the eyes of the students were turned, looking at her. Wait... Had she missed something? Despite herself, she felt her cheeks begin to flush as she swallowed, her eyes centering onto the TA, then. He gave her an expecting look, as if he was expecting her to say something, but what to say? What had he asked her, if he had asked anything at all?

    Shit, was he actually trying to pull her into a conversation?

    "Ah..." She started, her eyes looking around the room again to see if she could get any sort of clue from any of the students as to what she needed to talk about. No clues were given, however, leaving Peyton in the state of confusion as she tried to fumble around for an answer. "I really don't know, to be honest," she answered, shrugging her shoulders as she looked back at the TA. "It's all such a... Confusing thing, something that I don't think anyone can fully understand yet." A typically generic answer, one that, Peyton hoped, would get her off the hook. "It's just a thing that happens, I suppose."
  6. Why even bother, Robin thought. She clearly wasn't listening; she sure as hell didn't seem the least bit interested when class had started and for some reason he felt compelled to rope her into the conversation as if it will somehow make her more involved. The disinterested answer had cost him valuable momentum in the discussion, with a few students giving their attention back to their smartphones. He tried to salvage whatever he could from the generic statement to continue the discussion.

    "Yes, one could just describe it as just 'something that happens' and in the field of social sciences it's tempting to describe a phenomenon like so. But there are reasons as to why such things happen. If you can recall it was mentioned in the first lecture."

    Thankfully for him, another student spoke up with his answer.

    After some more back and forth, most of it being Robin having to coax the students to talk, the hour was up and the students were more than ready to leave class for the day. Dropping them a quick reminder about office hours as the students filed through the door, he moved behind the desk to pack his own things.

    While it wasn't a particularly engaging first class, he was happy enough that at least some people were actually discussing. It was better than his first batch of students at least, where they were all expecting him to just spout out information for them to copy down. From what he had observed in this class, it felt as if most of the students were simply too shy to speak out loud. Some of the more brave ones led the discussion today, and while some of them didn't exactly get the concepts from the first lectures, it was a tick in his book to see them speak up. Some of the other students will need some more time which he hoped he could get by continuing to suggest his one on one times.

    Then there were students like the girl who sat in the middle, Peyton, who seemed completely separated from the class itself. He had briefly thought of singling her out after class but in the end went against it. She's an adult now. This isn't high school anymore. She can make her own choices.

    With a bittersweet class done for the day, he took out his phone, the notification light signaling to him an unread message.

    Going out with friends.

    So that's why she asked whether he had plans.

    With no one else in the room, Robin could finally drop the enthusiastic teacher act; breathing a frustrated sigh as he let his shoulders slump from carrying his materials.


    So much for looking forward to the warm embrace of a loving girlfriend after a day's worth of hard work. No point going to an empty home. He figured the library was the best place for him to start on the next lesson plan, as well as work on that essay that was due soon. Looks like he better get started.
  7. 'Well if you wanted a serous answer,' Peyton thought, 'then you should have asked someone else to answer the question.'

    The young woman snorted to herself and turned her gaze back to the window as another student spoke up, her ears barely, again, registering the conversation that was going on about the discussion. It had been apart of the first lecture; right, because she was supposed to care enough about this class to remember things when not taking a test. She rolled her eyes at the thought as her fingers started to tap lightly against her desk. A few eyes glanced her way, nearly sneering at the distracting noise, and at their looks Peyton finally stopped. Fine, she'd stop acting like an ass; didn't mean she had to pay attention, however.

    As soon as the TA--whose name she had yet to memorize, or even know--released the class and allowed them to leave, Peyton quickly packed her things and left the room, one of the first ones to flee from the door and down the hall and then out of the building. The humid air of the outside world slapped against Peyton's skin as she stepped outside, her movements slowing as she calmed her body. All right, one more class to go, and then she was free for the day. Well, as free as she could be given the homework she still had to do.

    When her last class was finished for the day, Peyton walked through the courtyard of the main part of campus to head to the large building of the library. Students milled about the area, standing on the steps and sitting along the railings as they talked to one another and texted various people on their phones. In and out peopled walk through the automatic doors of the library, and when Peyton stepped in she was greeted with the cool air conditioned air. A sign to the side showed the students the four floors that the library supported, along with what the floors specialized in. A small coffee shop was off to the side near the entrance of the building, students lining up to get their afternoon fill of the caffeinated drinks, hoping that it would be enough to get them through the day.

    Peyton had half a mind to get a cup herself, but she pushed the thought aside with the shake of her head and walked forward towards the steps before she started to ascend them.

    The building seemed busier than normal, though Peyton figured that was due to students wanting to get a head start on their work in the quiet of the library. Either that or students were getting their rush of work done until they stopped caring towards the middle of the semester, or even in a few weeks. She blinked her eyes and looked to the side as she made it to the second floor, the general study and research place for undergrad and grad students. She turned and walked into one of the rooms, it being large and carpeted with green. Shelves of books stood on both sides of the room, the shelves filled completely with books and academic journals. Tables and desks were spaced out, nearly all filled, for students to sit and and work on their things.

    Peyton frowned at the sight, however. Seemed like this place was busy too. She huffed out a breath and started walking around, scouring the place until she, finally, found an empty table in the back of the room. She took a seat and sat down, four other chairs placed around the table that were unoccupied. Seemed like a good enough place. Reaching down, she pulled her laptop and book out and placed it on the table. Now, to start on her work, because Lord knew she wouldn't be able to do it at her apartment.
  8. Robin had, of course, been spending much of the latter part of his day holed up in the library. Sitting on a desk with his laptop in front of him, his notebook and pens to his right, his phone to his left, and a cup of coffee he bought downstairs before coming up here just behind his notebook. He was hunched down, focusing on the screen in front of him as his fingers typed away on the annoyingly shallow keyboard. It's times like this he missed his old laptop and the adequate travel time its keyboard contained, but it was simply too heavy to keep lugging around campus, so he caved in a bought a second hand Macbook Air.

    He let out a sigh and leaned back against the rickety chair. Whoever said men couldn't multitask was, unfortunately, correct. On his notebook was a badly drawn table with scribbled handwriting detailing next week's class. On his laptop was the four thousand word report he was working on that was most definitely riddled with grammar mistakes. He had been alternating between the two, trying to work on both to get the most out of his time in the quiet space of the library, but it only proved to lower the quality of both pieces of work.

    Then there's Maggie to worry about. They've been spending less and less time together; her hanging out more and more with her friends she keeps texting him about, like earlier today. He had confronted the issue a few days ago and it resulted in an argument that left him being accused of 'clingy' and 'controlling'. It took every ounce of his willpower not to pick up the phone and shoot a text.

    As he raised his arms to stretch his stiffened limbs, he noticed a figure enter out of the corner of his eye. He noticed it, because the person was someone he knew; someone that, honestly, he would be better of not seeing right now. His mind quickly flashed back to the lesson and his idiotic mistake on calling out on her, Peyton was it? The disinterested look she wore then should have deterred him from calling out on her. That's what he gets for trying to be a good teacher. Even though the class went relatively smoothly, he just couldn't shake the one negative thing that tarnished that class.

    Deciding this as a good time to get back to work, he reached out for his coffee for another top up on some caffeine. Robin was still craning his neck, getting it to loosen and crack, so he didn't see his hand overreach the cup. As he pulled back, he felt his hand bump against the coffee cup and looked down to see its contents spilled over the desk; being soaked up by the notebook and his laptop.

    "Fuck! Fucking, shit, fuck!" His voice cut clean right through the silence of the library, as for the moment all attention was on him. His attention however, was on his stuff. His coffee soaked stuff. He quickly moved his laptop and notebook out of the way, but the damage had already been done. The pages where he had written his lesson plan were now stained a dark brown colour. His laptop screen had turned black. He pressed the spacebar repeatedly, hoping it was just sleeping.


    Only a few moments later did he notice the numerous pairs of eyes on him. Great. Just great. That report was due by the end of the week. Among them being the student, Peyton. What a day...

    Resisting the urge to hurl his laptop against the wall, he gathered his things and walked out of the library without another word. Except, he didn't gather all his things; because his phone was still sitting on the desk dangerously close to the puddle of caffeine water.
  9. The quiet murmurs of study groups went ignored by Peyton as she stared at the questions in front of her, shining from her laptop screen of the homework program that her biometrics class used. She sighed, scratching the top of her head as she wiggled her pencil back and forth and looked down at her notebook and calculator, trying to figure out the formula that needed to be used in order to figure the problem out. This, Peyton was beginning to realize, would likely be her toughest class; not to say that her other classes wouldn't be difficult, but she had the sinking feeling that, more often than not, she would be spending her nights getting eerily intimate to her calculator as well as the problems that would always stand in front of her.

    What had been talked about in class yesterday? She furrowed her brows and looked back to her notebook and flipped the pages, her hand writing scrawled against the college ruled paper with notes from the PowerPoint and of her own wording for things to make sense. How to do this problem, how to do this?

    She sighed again and sat back against the chair. It creaked below her, groaning under her weight until she stopped moving. Her phone buzzed next to her laptop, no doubt a text from her roommate, but instead of looking to see, Peyton left it where it was. No point in getting herself distracted, even if in the next moment a quick sort of commotion erupted within the room as curses flew and as a chair rubbed against the carpet.

    Quickly, Peyton picked her head up and looked, the murmurs of students slowly rising in volume as their concentration was momentarily halted, their attention to the scene at the front of the room. Peyton paused and leaned over to get a better look, other students standing from their chairs as their curious minds willed them to not just sit still and let things be. Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of a man who looked oddly familiar, and her otherwise straight lined lips tipped down into a frown.

    What was he doing here?

    Before she was able to muse on her thoughts longer, the man, her TA, quickly left the room after packing his things without looking back. Others, while still murmuring to themselves and others, slowly sat back in their seats as Peyton heard someone say in the back to call the janitor about the mess in the second research room on the second floor. Moments passed and the quiet was slowly returned to the room, people turning back to their work just as Peyton was about to do, however something still stayed in her mind, stuck. Her TA; what was his name again?

    She shook her head, trying to push the thought aside but to no avail. She picked her head back up and looked to where the man had been, the desk empty, dribbles of coffee spilling off the corners and the lip of the table. Wait... Was that a phone? Again, Peyton found her eyes narrowing as she set her eyes on the device.

    No, no, no. Just leave it alone. You have work to do. If he wants it, he'll come back for it, or someone else will find it and leave it in the lost in found. Or someone would steal it, take it for their own or even sell it so that they could have more money for books, food, or, God forbid, drugs and alcohol. It wasn't her problem though; it wasn't her phone, and she didn't owe anything to the man even if she had been rude during class.

    Except why wasn't she able to stop thinking about it? She tried to concentrate on her work; she set her eyes back to her laptop and tightened her hold on her pencil to remind her of the reason she had come into the library; to start and finish some homework. Her pencil tapped against the desk as her brows stayed furrowed and her leg jutted up and down under the table.

    "Shit," she muttered, groaning as she shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. Leave it alone, just leave it alone... Except she couldn't. No one had come back to claim the phone and no one stepped over to the messed table. The young woman cursed again as she shut her laptop and turned to her backpack, setting the computer in it as she did with her notebook, pencil, phone, and calculator.

    Sometimes, she really hated the good Samaritan of her personality. She blamed her parents, namely her mother.

    Swinging her backpack over her shoulders, Peyton made her way over to the mess and picked up the cell phone. No one looked her way or even noticed that she took the device, too wrapped up in their own lives as Peyton started down at the object. She turned it around, made sure that it still worked, before she turned to the door and headed out. Now, smart one, she chided in her mind, where is he? She walked out of the room and stopped. Students slowly filtered back and forth, in and out of her vision, but she saw no sight of her TA. What did he even look like, really?

    Maybe she should go back and leave the phone where it last lay. No, it was too late now. Peyton snorted to herself as she shook her head and headed down the stairs. Maybe he left; maybe he was walking along the courtyard somewhere.

    After stepping outside, Peyton stopped again and looked around. She squinted her eyes and pursed her lips as she held the TA's phone in her hand until a familiar figure stood out to her in the distance. It was a ways a way, enough to where it was a mere blur in her eyes, but she felt as if her eyes weren't mistaking her. Or, she hoped not, rather, least she looked like an idiot for mistaking someone for someone else.

    Quickly, she bounded her way down the stairs and jogged across the sidewalk. She weaved her way through the throng of students as her backpack continuously bumped against her back, clinking together as the zipper hit the cloth. "Hey!" She shouted, eyes turning her way before looking elsewhere. "Hey, you! You left your phone!" He didn't seem to notice her shouts, or rather he ignored her. Damn, what was his name? This would be so much easier if she had that information... Peyton continued jogging towards the man until she reached him. She rushed forward and side stepped him to get in front of him, stopping his line of movement. Aha, so it was him!

    Taking a breath, she paused before she held the phone out to him. "You left this."
  10. Gritting his teeth, Robin stormed his way out of the library and down the stairs. He could feel the stares of some of the students as they undoubtedly heard his tirade of profanities from the floor above. And after just how well the day was going so far, it had to end in disaster. And to add insult to injury, he will be walking to an empty house. At least he can always count on the bottle of wine sitting obediently in his fridge.

    As his mind slowly simmered from the initial anger, the worries chose this moment to pile themselves onto him. He was left with a broken laptop; one that would undoubtedly cost quite a bit to fix. Then there was his assignment which he stupidly didn't back up onto a hard drive. His notebook was soaked and probably left more than just his lesson plans unreadable. Not to mention his part time job that had done nothing put pile up stress. There was also that girl, her student, who saw him in the library. That's going to be awkward.

    His march had slowed to a fast walk as he approached the front gate of the campus. There weren't many people out; the time being right in the middle of dinner. People would either be busy studying or outside having dinner. He'll definitely be ordering takeout once he got home. Maybe some Chinese? Or a pizza? Or maybe he'll find Maggie with some homemade dinner at the dining table.

    Yeah right...

    He reached into his jacket pocket to reach for said phone, only to find an empty pocket. His hand reached the pocket on the other side. Nothing. His jeans? Nothing. Swinging his shoulder around to bring his bag forward, he unzipped the bag and ruffled through the items inside. Where was it? Where was it? Shit!

    Where was it? It wasn't with him, so it had to be in the library. That was where he was last. Looks like he'll have to face the stares of those people again. Maybe if he kept his head down they wouldn't notice. If the day really wanted to shit on him, then he'd think his phone was pickpocketed. Pickpocket... Dammit! His phone was on the desk! What if someone stole it?

    He felt adrenaline rush into his body as he prepared to turn and run, only to suddenly find someone standing in front of him holding out an object; which at further inspection, revealed to be his phone.

    "You left this." The person said. He had to talk a deep breath and calm down as all the tension and anxiety escaped from his body all at once. If only the phone was the end of his worries. He took the phone from the person and managed a tired smile. "Thanks. Just made my day a little less shitty." He pocketed the phone in his jacket and looked back up. Suddenly his body was tensing up again as he let out an 'urk' sound. It was his student. Out of all the people he needed to avoid right now, she was currently at the top of the list.

    He can't take this rollercoaster of emotions. Now he really does feel like running away. That's impossible, of course.
  11. Her brows rose as soon as the man took the phone, his body slumping as his hands gripped onto the object. More than likely, Peyton figured, he was happy to see it; no more did he have to worry about someone stealing his phone, hacking into it, and taking any information that could be considered personal that would be either an embarrassment to have let out to the public or damaging to his career as a graduate student and hopeful teacher in the future. If those were his goals for the future, anyway. Despite herself, she couldn't help but let her lips tilt up at the edges, herself biting the inside of her cheek to keep the change of expression at bay as she imagined what all could be in that phone that could ruin his reputation: naked photos of himself or perhaps of any lady friends he had, or male friends, or maybe he had questionable emails or texts sent through his phone...

    Okay, maybe it would be best to stop thinking such thoughts. Though his worry seemed to be expelled through having his phone back, Peyton had more than a few reasons to believe that this guy was clean, and it wasn't because of the foul language he used in the library or the fact that he, instead of lashing out at her and accusing that she stole his phone, took the phone with gratitude.

    Still, that didn't stop the sudden swell of pride that came to the young woman as she, finally, let a smile come to her lips until the man's demeanor suddenly changed as he looked up at her. His body visibly tensed, causing Peyton to tense as well as she stuck her hands in her pockets and straightened her shoulders. Her brows furrowed and her lips turned down into a frown. What did she do now? Or, rather, what was wrong with this guy? Perhaps those weren't the more formal things to think about a TA of hers, but she nonetheless let the thoughts flow through her mind as she watched him, her eyes narrowing as she finally shook her head and let out a breath.

    "Right," she commented sarcastically as she shrugged her shoulders and continued to look at him. He looked like he was about to blow a gasket; he looked as if he wanted to do nothing but find some hole to crawl in and die, and given the events that she witnessed in the library, she wouldn't blame him. "You're welcome. I figured leaving a phone like that," she nodded towards the phone still in his hands, "in the library would result in it being stolen and not returned to the owner if anyone else had gotten a hold of it. So, I figured I might as well save you the heartache of having to get a new phone and new number while missing any pictures or information you may have locked away in the device."

    She should just leave, Peyton told herself as she rambled on, stopping herself shortly after with the shake of her head. He likely didn't want to hear what she had to say, and she had homework to finish up; she didn't have time to dawdle around with, and speaking to him was doing just that. Except... Her legs were unwilling to move as she continued to look at his facial expressions. Just go, she told herself, cringing at her own mind as she internally groaned.

    "Are you... Okay? You look like you're about to start convulsing, and that's something that I would highly recommend against if you don't want any more attention brought on to you." Perhaps, Peyton reasoned with herself after she was done speaking, that she could have sounded more sympathetic to him, but pushed the thought aside as soon as it came.
  12. He was still standing when he took the phone from her hands. Yes, he got his phone, now he should be walking away, right? There wasn't any reason to still be here. If anything, he should try to see if there are any shops open that could repair his laptop. So the fact that he remained on the spot with this girl was baffling. Actually, now that he thought about it, the reaction he had after seeing her wasn't a particularly nice one. She had returned his phone, after all. He should be more grateful, considering all the things he has on it. All his work related emails and texts were on it. And it would have been one more worry on his mind if she had no returned it.

    Indeed, as if she had read his mind, she said exactly that. He nodded in agreement, still feeling a little awkward at this conversation. Compared to him, she was rather composed, and he chided himself for it. This wasn't the time to start acting nervous, in front of his student no less. Or rather, he should stop thinking of her as a student. He was one himself. More than that, he was already off the lock. There was no reason to be treating her as if they were still in class. Sure, he was a little peeved at her lack of participation in his class; she prevented him from obtaining that perfect first lesson, but there was no reason for him to act like this over it. He was being childish, he reasoned to himself in the end. Besides, acting like a teacher everywhere would just be tiring. How professors managed to do it is a mystery to him.

    Her question brought him out of his inner thoughts. Convulsing? Did he really look that bad? Well...

    "No. Err... I'm sort of, embarrassed, actually, that you saw all that. I've had a rather stressful day and well, what happened at the library was the final straw, I suppose. I should be more grateful that you returned my phone so," he ran a hand through his hair, settling it at the back of his head, and flashed a more natural smile. "Thank you. For returning my phone."

    Realizing the phone was still in his hand, he hastily put it in his pocket. God forbid something else happen to it now. In any case, he could feel himself visibly relax, shoulders slumping slightly from their tensed state. He mirrored her pose, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He remained there, unmoving, but the silence wasn't feeling as awkward as before. Though it was soon broken by a muffled retro theme song that was coming from his pocket.

    "Ah...sorry." He fished out his phone once more, and the ringing got louder. On the screen it displayed 'Maggie' along with a profile of her. He promptly answered the phone, turning to the side for some privacy.

    "Hello? What? Again? Can't you have one of your friends drive you? How about a taxi? All of you? Fine... Just, wait there, ok?" Breathing a sigh, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and turned to Peyton, the annoyed expression on his face disappearing, and replaced with reluctance, when he addressed her again. "I gotta run. Thanks again for returning my phone...Peyton, right?"

    A quick confirmation of her name, and he was off on his heels.
  13. ((Woo, finally back! (: ))

    This was certainly a strange young man, one who couldn't be more than a few years older than her, and as she continued to watch him, watching as his shoulders finally slumped and the tension left his muscles in one sift breath that escaped from his chest, she found him interesting. Interesting in the sense that she could be amused with watching him, watching him twitch and squirm with embarrassment and holding back her own laughter as she laughed with him--not at him, she told herself--but not interesting that she would rather find herself following along with him like a puppy, or even a friend. He was her TA, after all, a person who handled her grades in the class and expected her to participate in discussion, such as he had earlier that day.

    Thinking of which, her lips twisted down into a frown. She wondered if he thought of her to be a fool, someone who was ignorant, since she hadn't answered his question in class and since she, really, had only half-assed a response to him so that he'd leave her alone. She remember the narrowed looks she had been given from the rest of the class, how some of them tried to hold back their chuckled laughter, as the man at the head of the class stared at her, obviously peeved that she hadn't answered the way he wanted, or expected, her to respond.

    She shook her head to clear of thoughts of that, though. No use in dwelling on something that already happened, Peyton told herself as she uncurled and curled her hands in her pockets. Students slowly walked past them on the sidewalk, their small chatter enveloping Peyton's ears as they laughed and spoke, their bags brushing against their backs, chains and other pendents hanging from the bags jingling with every step the students took. "I guess I can understand your embarrassment," she responded, grimacing at her words as she, again, shook her head. "No problem. Just try and make sure that you don't lose it again, or spill more coffee on it."

    Right as she turned to leave, the man's phone rang in his pocket, the song catching her attention. Peyton rose her brows and looked at him, watching as he turned his back and talked on the phone, that sense of unease beginning to come back to the man as his choppy and short words spouted from his mouth. Driving someone somewhere? No, stop eavesdropping, she told herself, it's wrong and it's rude. But she didn't have much longer to ponder on the thought as the young man ended the call and turned back to her. She nodded her head to his words, repeating her name again before he turned and left, leaving her to stand on the path alone as she watched his retreating figure.

    Hm... Odd. But she pushed the thought aside and turned around, deciding to, against her better judgement, head back to her apartment to undoubtedly listen to the shrill, fast talking voice of her roommate that would disturb her from her studies and homework. At least, if anything, Peyton told herself that she would no longer be distracted with any TAs spilling their coffee and yelling out obscene language as they quickly left the library, leaving their phone behind.


    The rest of the week went by smoothly; though Peyton had been subject to the rant of her roommate, which quickly turned into the girl dreamily staring off out the window in their living room, she had been able to finish her homework and studies, which quickly turned into more assignments and lessons for her to study the days after that. Nevertheless, throughout the week her thoughts went back to her Intro to International Politics TA and of how he spilled the coffee in the library, even on Saturday as she spent her time taking a break from her studies and at the local animal shelter that she volunteered at and had been since her Freshman year. On Friday she had seen him once again walking along campus by himself, but instead of walking over to him and giving him a quick 'hello' she stayed on her path with one of her friends.

    "What are you staring at?" Johnathan, her friend, had asked as he bumped his shoulders into hers gently, chuckling lowly under his breath as he did so. Peyton merely shook her head and said nothing, glancing once more at the TA before she turned back to the conversation that she and Johnathan had been having about one of their classes and of how the professor could be more forgiving with the amount of homework he gave them during the week.

    And back on Wednesday of the next week she found herself walking back into the business building, shivering as the heavily air conditioned air clashed with the humid air outside until the door closed behind her. Steps of shoes echoed against the walls, and as Peyton walked up the stairs, down the hall, and into the class she was supposed to enter, she sighed and sat in the seat she had been sitting in last week. Begrudgingly so, when in the lecture portion of the class on Monday, Peyton found herself actually taking notes and listening to what was being said, not with the rapt attention she gave her other professors, but enough to know that, for what ever reason, she would pick up the information and let it stay in her mind, or, at least, in her notebook for her to look back at.

    Why she did such a task? Even Peyton had yet to figure that out herself.

    Her eyes finally glanced away from the window and over to the front of the class after taking her things out of her backpack, the TA standing at the head of the class by the board and behind the desk. Such as last time, students slowly trickled their way into the room, in pairs, by themselves, or even as groups, as the chairs in the room were slowly filled as the clock ticked closer to the time for class to begin. Who had he, the TA, been talking with on the phone before? Who had he had to pick up, and why had he seemed so unpleased to do so?
  14. ((Yay! Welcome back.))

    Even as he made his way back to his car, an old second hand Toyota that had served him well through his undergrad years, he couldn't get his mind of the brief conversation he had with his student. Or...should he be calling her a fellow student? He never expected the relationship to be so complicated. After all, his last batch of students weren't anywhere near as troubling. But even last semester's students had students that were like her; disinterested and passing through the motions. So why had she in particular ticked him off? Those kinds of thoughts occupied him as he drove to a club outside of town.

    "I'm thinking too much." He muttered to himself. He was just in a bad mood. Yeah. That's it. There's no point thinking about it anymore. He was making things more complicated than they actually are. Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to. As the flashy neon lights and thumping music came into range, he leaned over the dashboard, trying to spot Maggie and her entourage...err...friends. Yes, he didn't particularly like the people she hung out with. It was obvious even to an outsider that they weren't the brightest people or the best influence. Not like he could say that to her straight without her playing the controlling boyfriend card.

    Yes. There they were. Three of them, stumbling out the door. He rolled down the window and waved at them. The smell of alcohol quickly filled the car's interior as his inhibited passengers made themselves comfortable. He felt a pair of arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders, a husky breath following it. "Thankss for picking us uup, sweetie." Her speech was slurred. She was definitely drunk. But the affection sort of made up for it. It was one of the few times she was ever affectionate to him lately.

    The car ride was silent as the girls were quickly knocked out. Luckily for him, they all lived in the same area. Gas is expensive!

    He lived with Maggie in a small one bedroom apartment just a few minutes away from his uni. He had to carry her onto his back as they entered the apartment. The only bedroom belonged to Maggie who turned it into a half art studio. The smell of paint and graphite masked the alcohol. A slightly better trade off. Laying her on the bed, he slipped off her heels, then dress, tossing it in the laundry basket. He set her purse on the nightstand and sighed. How long have they known each other now?

    That left his stuff. All tucked away in the living room on one shelf. He dropped his bag haphazardly onto the floor with a thump. Not like there was anything valuable in there anymore. Computer was busted. How much money would that cost? That was a problem for tomorrow's Robin. Yeah. Today's Robin needed sleep. So he laid down on the couch, his eyes drifting off soon after.


    The rest of the week went by without event. He used the week to plan next week's class. His laptop was still in shop but he was able to bring up a backup copy of his essay. He would work on it on the school's computer in the library every day, leaving his girlfriend to herself back in the apartment for her to work her paintings. It was good for the both of them. She always insisted on privacy with her work and he couldn't stay inside while she was painting without having to deal with the smell of paint.

    He realized, as he finished writing bullet points on the board for his second lesson, that they had been spending more time apart than together. He was a little bothered by it, but had accepted it in the end. It was normal, he reasoned, with how long they have known each other. Still, he held his phone in his hand, resisting the temptation to send a simple text to her. With the first student entering, he resigned himself from the effort and pocketed his phone.

    It was only a matter of time before Peyton entered. He hadn't seen her all week and that was more than enough time to allow his feelings to settle. Teacher and student. No big deal.

    It was five minutes past. He began the lesson in the usual boisterous way. "I hope you're now more accustomed to college life. It's only the second week but you've probably already felt that we don't pull back on the accelerator once we get started. So we'll get right to it." Perching his glasses up, he underlined some words on the board. The lesson had begun similarly to last week. But it took a little less time for people to start speaking up. It didn't take long for him to identify the types of students. Who were the eager ones, the ones that turned their gaze away when you looked at them, the ones who knew the answers but were too shy to speak up. Each of them had to be handled their own way, and handle them he did. With experience from last semester, he was able to dictate the lesson much more smoothly.
  15. Just as with last weeks lesson, Peyton found herself drowning out the words of the TA that stood in front of the class, his words turning all into mumbles in her mind as she stared back out at the window. Slowly, clouds flowed through the sky as birds--cardinals, both large and small--quickly fluttered past, their sounds also muffled in her mind, though instead of her not listening it was only due to the glass that stood in between them. Soon they would be all gone, she mused, the birds, as well as the stray cats and squirrels that littered campus. Of course, that was still a few months away, the time when winter would come upon them and when the weather would begin to chill, but the thoughts, now in her mind, was almost saddening.

    Oh God, could she really be that bored that she was beginning to think about the birds and squirrels that could, in a sense, be considered nuisances to the general public of the campus since they were no longer afraid of people? At least the cats had the decency to turn and run away when someone was walking near; the birds, she had come to learn, loved to soar just above a person's head, and the squirrels? Well, they tended to drop acorns and other various nuts that they collected as they scampered across thin and thick tree branches, making them fall and bounce on top of someones head.

    Shaking her head, Peyton turned her eyes and looked away from the window. The guy sitting beside her spoke up to a question that had been asked, his words flowing easily as he sat straight in his seat, his notebook poised open with words already scrawled onto the paper, no doubt things that had been lectured during the lecture portion as well as the discussion portion. He must be one of the people that actually enjoy this class, she thought, probably someone who majored in this or something similar to the sort. Thinking of which, Peyton turned to look back down at her own notebook and flipped to an empty page and started writing the bullet points the TA wrote on the board. As she did so, she found her eyes lingering on the TA, her mind going back to a week ago and of how angered and agitated he seemed as his coffee spilled on his laptop and over the desk that he had been sitting at. And of the look he had given her as soon as he recognized her, how tensed he had been, and then of how tensed he seemed again after he answered his phone. It was just so... Odd, so strange, yet she didn't know why.

    She huffed out a breath and let things be, though the thoughts continued in her mind, even as the class came to an end. Papers shuffled, bags were zipped, and chairs were scooted against the floor as people started to rise and leave out of the room, the chatter from their lips echoing throughout the room and then slowly dissipating as they grew farther away. Peyton slung her bag over her shoulders and, with a sigh, started heading towards the door, the only one left in the class save for the TA. Except... She didn't leave, yet. Her hand rested against the door frame as her feet stopped, her legs freezing as she grit her teeth and closed her eyes. Shit...

    "Um," she muttered, her body turning as she faced the TA, though standing still in the door way as the sound of shoes bounced off the halls. "How were your things?" Squaring her shoulders, Peyton ran a hand through her hair. "The things at the library, I mean? Your laptop, and everything else?" Why ask? She wasn't sure, though she couldn't deny how irked with herself that she was. Still, they blurted out of her mouth without her being able to stop them. "Spilling coffee on a laptop isn't something that's necessarily great for it, and, trust me, I'd know since I've done the same thing." Despite herself, the corner of her lips twitched up at the memory of her screw up in freshman year.
  16. Even though the lesson went more smoothly than last time, for some reason, he couldn't help but feel that it went much longer than usual. He was sure he could feel the students' gazes scrutinizing him as his own eyes flitted over to the clock on the wall every now and again. He didn't exactly know why it felt this way, though he could reckon a guess.

    While he was sure his students caught him starring at the clock, whenever he faced the students, his gaze would always fall onto that girl. She didn't show an inch of reaction back in the library, and she was the one that returned his phone to him when he stormed out. And now, for some reason, he found her gazing at him. He really thought that one week was enough to put all that behind him, but it was clear now that he was lying to himself. It was probably because of this that the lesson felt longer than usual. He wasn't necessarily distracted; just, splitting his attention between her and the class.

    So, really, the question becomes: why is he still thinking about her? It was something he pondered in uncharacteristically deep thought as he packed up his things at the end of class. Was it the stress from the blitzkrieg of assignments that his own professors had laid upon him? Or his straining relationship with his girlfriend making him ponder such thoughts? Or perhaps it was idle curiosity?

    A couple of students, a boy and a girl, went up to him with a few questions regarding the discussion from earlier. His tone was occupied and attitude half-hearted. That certainly did him no favours as the two walked out looking less than satisfied. But it was his own fault in the end. He frowned slightly and shoved the last of his papers into his file before stuffing it into his bag, which was feeling much lighter than usual thanks to the exclusion of his broken laptop.

    As he lifted his head back up another voice addressed him. He was just thinking about her. Was she a mind reader?

    It was then he also realized they were alone. Was she waiting for him?

    It was a courtesy call for yesterday. That had to be it. He had left so abruptly after that phone call last night, she just felt like she had to check up on him.

    "Yeah. If you've done the deal before you can guess how much of a hassle. Warranty's long gone and I gotta pull some more shifts for it." He shows her a self-derisive smile. Despite it, he didn't dislike conversing with her. "What else can I do? It was my fault. I'm just glad I backed up everything." He finishes with a shrug and slings his bag over his shoulder.

    He opens the door, gesturing for her to walk ahead. "After you."
  17. Despite herself, Peyton couldn't help but grimace as she looked at the man, her eyes flitting over to the bag that he held until her eyes landed back at his face. She took another assessment of him, giving him an unwavering gaze, not ashamed at all, and not backing down either. Her mother would hit her for staring. It was a habit that Peyton found herself unable to break at times, but when she found something interesting, or someone, rather, she couldn't help but stare. Call it a fault or defect of hers, she honestly didn't care. It was a part of her, something that Peyton refused to change about herself despite her parent's urges to convince her to be more respectful to her peers. More respectful? Would it not be more rude to look away from someone she was talking to, and speaking to? In her mind, looking at someone directly was a sign of confidence, something that allowed the person to know that their attentions were on the other. But, of course, others found it odd, and while Peyton refused to break the habit, there had been more than a few times where she found herself on the end of a sneer that she rather would have let herself go without.

    She wondered if the TA had caught onto it, and if he became uncomfortable under her gaze. Thinking as such, she averted her gaze a few inches to the side as her hands clenched, a breath nearly breaking from her throat though she kept the noise at bay and continued listening, remembering her own time when she destroyed her own laptop. "Yes, it certainly wasn't a fun time having to try and get the money to replace it, especially since I wouldn't let my parents help me do it. My mistake, my money that had to be used, especially since they were helping me with my tuition." Eventually she had been able to get a new laptop, a cheaper one than she originally had, but with taking shifts at the one of the diners in town and the local animal shelter at home during the time that it happened back when she was in her freshman year of college, she had been able to get herself a new one. She remembered proudly walking into the Best Buy and picking out the laptop that she had saved up for and then going home with it in hand at the end of winter break, showing it to her parents and proclaiming that she knew she could do it on her own without their help, despite how it had taken her months to save up the money with the other expenses she had to continue to pay during the time--her phone bill, gas, and car insurance. The only thing that really sucked about the whole process had been the fact that she had to use some of the school computers while without a laptop during the time.

    But that was years ago. Since then she had gotten a new laptop, one that her parents got her for Christmas the year after she bought the new laptop herself.

    "You are smarter though; you actually had the sense to back your information up. I lost everything, and I can't say that I'm not still bitter about it." Her lips tilted up again at the words until she nodded her head to his request and his point out the door. She stepped back and watched as he closed it and stood in place. "Still, I find it odd that a TA will have to pick up extra shifts at... Where ever to get the money. I guess you don't get paid much, if at all, for doing this?' Realizing her invasive question, Peyton quickly shook her head and put her hands up, shaking them and then letting them drop back to her sides. "Actually, you don't have to answer that. My mistake; too personal."

    She shrugged the matter off instantly, but just in that same instant, too, she realized the predicament she was standing in: standing in a nearly empty hall with doors either closed for class or open and unoccupied, some students sitting on the ground against the walls with binders and notebooks sitting in their laps as they also became distracted with their phones. Students still were around, yet the two still had a sense of privacy that left Peyton feeling slightly uncomfortable as she bit her lip and turned her head in another direction. "I should get going; I've got other things to do, and I'm sure you've got more important things to do than to stand around with a student who watched you nearly have a melt down in the library and leave your phone there for anyone to grab and use at their leisure." Her tone turned teasing towards the end, her eyes wandering back over to the man as she hid the smirk that wanted so desperately to come to her lips. "Good luck with trying to scrape some money up for a new laptop; those things are beginning to get expensive." Still, with that information and abrupt goodbye, she still stood in place, looking at him until she blinked her eyes and sighed. She was being stupid again. "I'll see you next Wednesday." Or on campus, probably, she wanted to add yet decided against it.

    With the nod of her head, Peyton hesitantly turned and started walking down a hall, shaking her head to herself as she moved her backpack on her back around again. Oh geeze; what was she getting herself into with her thoughts?
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