In Your Arms

Nothing else matters as long as I'm with you.


1. 1

First day of my first year in college. I think i'm gonna throw up. Hold it in Aya, hold it in.

As i walked in my creative writing class no one was there yet, which means i can choose my seat. I scan the room and took a seat on a desk in the corner on the second row. Class doesn't start in another 10 minutes. I didn't wanna be one of those people who's late to class on the first day.

I look through my bag to find my phone so it can keep me company while waiting for the proffesor and the other students to arrive. When i opened my phone, a message from my mom popped up. "How's your first day going sweetie"

Here we go again. "mom, im in college not highschool." I text her back.

"Sorry sweethear, have a great day love you"

"Love you too mom" i text her back and setting my phone down on my table.

I rest my head on the wall next to me and close my eyes for a little while. Maybe taking a quick 5 minute nap can lessen my boredom.

"Already falling asleep? Class hasn't even started yet." I opened my eyes to see a guy with brown hair and brown eyes in a white shirt, red and white flannel and black plants walking in the room. I just look at him. He looks familiar.

He's right, its my first day and im already falling asleep, class hasnt even started yet. How embarrassing. He just smiles and sits down on a desk in the back corner of the room. I look around to see if anyone else saw that but no one else seems to be here except for that guy.

We still have 3 minutes left of class and there's still no one here. I thought the professor would be earlier than everyone else. I turn to where the guy was sitting and he's just looking out the window with his stuff on the table. As soon as I turn back to the front, people started piling in. The students look like their about my age but some look a little older. When the students were settled, a guy in a suit holding a laptop bag comes in the room.

"Good morning class, I'm Mr Anderson and I'm your creative writing teacher." He says and takes a minute to look around the class. "Ahh I see some old faces and i also see some new ones. Welcome to my class. Let's go back to primary school and do that thing where the new people introduces themselves shall we?"

A few people groan including me, but my groan was silent. I hate introductions. People look at you weird.I don't wanna say something embarrassing. Knowing me i probably will. I'm okay with not being noticed. I like doing my own thing. I'm not really a 'group' type of person and I've never really been 'popular' and I'm fine with that. I took one quick glance at the guy in the flannel again and he's looking down at his stuff.

"What about you miss?" Professor Anderson says. I didn't realise he was talking to me until I turn my head towards him again.

"Hmm" I said to him. I can already feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks.

"What's your name?" He asked nicely.

"Ayanna Wilson"

"That's a nice name." Professor Anderson says. "So Ayanna, tell us something about yourself"

"Uhm, what would you like to know?" I asked as politely and as less nervous as I can.

"What's your hobbies?" Everyone's looking at me, I don't like it when people stare at me longer than a second.

"Uh, I like to read in my spare time"

"Oh, what kinds of books do you read?"

"I don't really have a favourite genre" I said. I seriously hope my voice isn't shaking.

"Oh ok, well welcome to my class Miss Wilson" Mr Anderson finally says to me and turns to another student. I let a nice deep breath and relaxed in my chair. I looked glanced over at the guy and he was also looking in my direction. I swear he looks familiar. I turn away and listened to Professor Anderson ask the older people how their summer breaks were.

An hour passed and there was only 10 minutes of class left. Professor Anderson just gave us our syllabus and got on with his lecture.

Class finally finished and everyone quickly packed their stuff and practically stormed out of class. The guy was part of the crowd. I was the last person to get out.

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