Completed flash fic. UNEDITED DRAFT. Content notes apply only to this part.
“Can I sit here?” a man asks, placing his backpack down on the table before I have a chance to answer.
I look up from my textbook and eye him. I think I’ve seen him around campus—another psych student, maybe, but not somebody I’ve spent any time thinking about.
A quick glance around shows me that the library is busy, but not so busy that there are no free spots anywhere. If this guy wanted, he could have found an isolated spot.
“No,” I answer flatly. I point to one of the empty tables “There’s a seat over there.”
The guy startles, then laughs. “Damn, that’s cold, Amber.”
Ugh. If he knows my name, that means we probably do share a class. I’m kind of memorable with my bright blue hair. Unlike this guy, who reminds me of every single rich frat boy. Blonde, blue-eyed, tight shirt to show off the biceps he works so hard for, and a smarmy grin.
“It is,” I agree. “It doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want you to sit with me.”
Frat boy sits down anyway and smiles at me. “People all say you’re a frigid bitch. Guess that’s true.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you trying to neg me? I don’t care if you think I’m a bitch.” I grab my books and laptop and start packing them into my expensive leather messenger bag.
“I’m not!” the guy protests. “That’s just what people say. The other rumor is that you’re a dyke.”
I can’t imagine why he thinks using a slur will get me to engage with him more. I stand up and start walking out of the library.
Of course, he probably thinks I’m a challenge, so he picks up his things and follows me.
“I’m Stephen, by the way,” he says. “If you’re a lesbo, you should tell me now so I can warn all the other horndogs off you.”
Lesbo? Do people even still say that? I get my phone out of my pocket and send a quick text. I’m not surprised when my phone dings with a response only a few seconds later.
“Okay, Stephen. I’m a lesbian,” I answer, pushing through the library entrance. “Go away and tell everyone.” It’s a nice autumn day, and it’s a shame I can’t enjoy it.
Stephen bursts out laughing. “You big liar.” He gets even closer, but thankfully doesn’t touch me. Instead, he holds out his phone. “This is you, isn’t it?”
My eyes widen. The phone is open to a social media app, and it has a picture of me and Drake coming out of a restaurant in fancy attire. My blue hair is very unmistakable.
I hadn’t even noticed somebody taking our picture.
“What do you want?” I ask Stephen.
Stephen grins widely. “If you know Drake Brutal… can I get an introduction? An invite to one of his infamous parties? Hell, I’ll settle for a five-minute coffee meeting.”
My chest relaxes, and I realize I’d been more stressed about this encounter than I’d thought. I’d assumed he was trying to convince me on a date.
“Drake won’t want to meet you,” I tell him honestly.
“Aw, why not?” Stephen asks, pleading. “He’s my idol. A total trailblazer in technology. I wish I could be like him. I love how he doesn’t put up with the haters.”
Just what the world needs: more Drake Brutals.
At least Drake is trying to be more respectful to people these days, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was exactly like Stephen back in his college days.
My phone buzzes again.
“Stephen,” I say, my voice still flat, “What makes you think I’d want to help you after you called me a bitch?”
He manages to look chagrined. “Yeah, sorry, I just had to get your attention somehow.”
A bright blue luxury sedan pulls up to the front of the building. I walk over to it, Stephen right on my heels.
I open the passenger side door, and Drake waves. “Hey, Mimi.”
I nod at him and get in. Stephen grabs the passenger door before I can get it shut.
“Oh, wow. Drake Brutal,” Stephen says with awe in his voice. “Sir, it’s an honor to meet you.”
Drake glares at him. “Let go of the door, buddy, or I might accidentally drive over your foot.”
Stephen startles and steps back. I grab the door and close it, locking it immediately. Drake hits the gas and we drive off at a faster speed than allowed.
“Who was that creep?” Drake growls. “Should I get him kicked from the school?”
I suppress a laugh. The idea of Drake calling anyone a ‘creep’… Pot, kettle.
“Only if he bothers me again,” I answer, reaching out to squeeze his thigh. “Stop speeding.”
Drake slows the car down, then grumbles, “You’re lucky I was in the neighborhood.”
“No. I saw the lunch meeting on your schedule, and I recognized the restaurant. I wouldn’t have texted if you were in the office.” I give him a faint smile. “Thanks for coming, though.”
Drake smiles too, although he keeps his eyes on the road. “Anytime, Mimi. And seriously, just say the word, we’ll ruin him.”
It actually sounds tempting, but I’m not quite that petty yet.
“For holding the car door? At least wait until he grabs my arm,” I joke.
“Not funny, Mimi,” Drake growls. “If he ever touches you…”
I nod. “Yeah. I know.”
And I do know: Drake is always going to jump in to protect me.
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