Alorah Reagen

I groaned as I observed the state of my hair through the mirror. I was thankful for the lack of people in the hallway, as I did not want to feel others' eyes on me.

After changing my clothes, I decided to dunk half of my hair in the bowl of water I had created in the sink, and I instantly regretted doing that. Half of my hair is still sticky from the orange Fanta, while the other half is soaking wet.

"Out of all the days I decided not to tie my hair, this happens to me," I hissed at my stupid self. I laid my hands flat on the surface, leaning close to the mirror, and whispered to myself, "Julian...what did I do to deserve that?"

My words echoed as I began cleaning up the mess I had made. Satisfied with my work, I did the final squeeze on my hair, moving it to one side before leaving the restroom.

As I occupied myself by folding my blouse, a pair of hands were on my shoulder, stopping me on my track. I turned around and came face-to-face with a familiar figure.

"May I help you?" I took a few steps back to widen the space between us, which caused him to let go of his hold on me.

He stood tall, and the aura he emitted made me feel so small. What on earth makes a person have this kind of vibe toward others? What's the point of intimidating someone who means no harm to them?

Julian's gaze roamed all over my appearance until it settled on my hair, and a painful emotion appeared on his face. Guilt? I feel like it is, seeing as he's looking at me with such emotion.

"I'm..." He trailed, staring at my hair before moving down, locking with my eyes.

Is it that difficult for him to say that one word? I can not help but wonder. He was well-known to be such a rule breaker, or what people called a bad boy. However, was he such a person?

"I think I have been away from Mr. Stoll's class long enough, so I better get going," I smiled before spinning in the direction of our classroom. I felt something wrapped around my wrist when I took the first step. I glanced down and settled my gaze on his hand.

"Here, stay still for me." I almost missed the last part, seeing how softly he said it. When I felt his finger graze my neck, the hairs on my neck stood up.

"What are you—"

"Shh. It will take a second."

What on earth is he doing?

"There, all done," he said with a satisfied grin, "I'm sorry for what I did back in the classroom. I'm hoping you will forgive me."

The last sentence made me realize two things I like about Julien Hayes. One is how he verbally apologizes for his actions to me. Not many people can do that and often resort to sending messages instead. The second one is that I found his smile charming, but I still didn't let it hinder my curiosity about why he did it.

"Why did you do it?" I asked as I touched my ponytail. He did a good job tying it.

"My way of apologizing for my actions. Now, off you go." The smile on his face disappeared as he waved his hand for me to leave before he turned and headed into the restroom.

What was that about?

Not wanting to stay out of the classroom for too long, I went to open the door. Mr. Stoll's voice died down as I stepped inside the room. Everyone's attention was once on our professor, but now, they were on me.

I must look like a mess.

"Ah! Welcome back, Ms. Reagan. Please go ahead and take a seat," He smiled at me before facing his class. "Enough with the looks you guys are giving her. How about centering all of your attention on me instead? You wouldn't want to miss this well-aged man over here?"

Everyone in the class laughed at his comment about himself as I made my way to my seat.

"Sir! Where's the well-aged man you're talking about?" A classmate of mine stood up and scanned the room, trying to find the person sir was referring to.

"I believe it is quite obvious who I am referring to since I'm the only man in the classroom with a 20-years-age gap," Mr. Stoll chuckled, gesturing to the student to sit back down. "Alright, let's get back to our lesson. Since no one agrees that I age well for someone around 40, none of you will receive additional points on your lowest scores."

"You should have let us know from the beginning, sir!"

"Awww."

The class erupted with a series of comments to sir's joke, and some of us here couldn't help but find this amusing. Sir. Stoll is one of the course professors we felt comfortable treating like a friend. We knew when to joke around and be serious during his class.

"Settle down, everyone! Settle down," He placed his forefinger over his lips, hushing us as if we might disturb the next-door class.

The door made a squeaky sound, which shifted our attention to whoever was by the door. Julian raised his eyebrow, wondering why everyone was looking at him.

"Mr. Hayes, could you answer a simple question for me?" Mr. Stoll inquired as he leaned against the teacher's desk.

Julian glanced around the room before centering his attention on our history professor, "Go ahead, sir."

I glanced at Amelia and Layla, who were trying to contain their laughter. We all knew where this was heading.

"Who in this classroom do you believe ages well for a man?" He grinned.

It took a few seconds for Julian to comprehend his words, and he grinned back at sir, "Who else would it be other than you, sir?"

"You get 5 points on your lowest activity. Alright. Let's continue with our lesson," I guess serious mode is turned on now, but I didn't miss the tiny grin Mr. Stoll had on his face.

Question of the day!

As a writer, have you ever written a few sentences or paragraphs of the current chapter you are working on, then closed the tab and opened it again after a few seconds to see if your fingers were going to continue typing?

For the readers, have you ever read a few sentences of the current book you are reading, stopped in the middle, left the app, then come back and continued reading it?