Chapter 04.

Albert


Though I plan to go and talk to her, I change my mind when I see two strings dangling from her ears down to the desk.
She is putting on earphones.

"I don't think going now is a good idea. If I interrupt her moment with the music, wouldn't that leave another bad impression on me?" I murmured, looking at her.

Learning from my mistake, I make sure to be discreet this time. I don't look at her directly but through the corner of my eyes. I notice she keeps looking down at her desk intensely as if there is something there.

What is it that gets her attention so much?

I crane my neck to see a Kindle paperwhite is lying on the desk. No wonder why she is so absorbed in it. It looks to me as if she isn't here anymore. I mean, her body is, but her mind must be elsewhere. It happens when you read a good book, and your soul is being taken into its world, leaving your body hollow inside. I can relate to this because despite being a playboy, I read too.

Taking the chance of her unnoticing, I take a good look at her, fully on the face. Her makeup-free face and messy hair seem to shield most of her beauty, but I can still sense her charming grace.

If she were to take care of herself a little bit more, I believe her beauty would be polished. The first thing to consider is the outfits. She needs to stop dressing like an older woman. A gypsy skirt and an oversize T-shirt? Why doesn’t she find herself a hood and a basket, then go to the audition for Red Riding Hood’s Grandmother? I think the role would be gladly given to her.

The next thing is the skin. She really needs to learn how to take good care of it. Even if she doesn’t know how to put on makeup, then at least get a moisturizing lotion and a lip balm. Dead skins and chapped lips aren’t all about beauty, but health as well.

“Hmm...what’s next?” I mutter, knowing she won’t be able to hear. I am about to come up with a third thing to point out when a noise interrupts my thought.

“That was close,” says a guy in a sweat-soaked blue t-shirt. “If it weren’t for him, I would have scored.

“It was just an accident, Phil. He didn’t mean it.” A guy in a maroon t-shirt pats his friend’s shoulder as they walk side by side into the classroom. Both of them look like buckets of water splashing on them.

It makes me wonder what has happened, until my eyes land on one of their hands to see that he carries a soccer ball in hand.

They’re sweaty because of a match, not a splash. But why don’t they change before coming here? Don’t tell me they are planning to spend the rest of the class in that condition? I think to myself, feeling confused about the boys’ lifestyle in this country. Usually, we have a change of clothes in the locker. Isn't school here equipped with a locker? I sigh. Whatever. Just don’t sit next to me.

Sadly, my plea is ignored, for they turn in my direction, heading for the seat next to mine.

“Hey, who are you?” asks the guy whose name is Phil, if I remember correctly.

Looking up close, it is more like he has fallen in the water. Sweats drip from the tips of his hair, and some are rolling down his temples to which he doesn’t bother wiping. I hold my breath at the smell. I am not looking down at them or anything, but well, men in sweats can only deem sexy in some circumstances. Not all the time.

“I’m Albert. A new student,” I reply, putting on my best effort not to let what I am thinking show on my face.

“New student?” Phil narrows his eyes at me. “In my class?

Dude, if I’m not a student in your class, then why am I sitting here? I say to myself, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes.

“Yes,” I reply.

His eyes move up and down, scrutinizing me as if I am a product displayed on the shelves, waiting for him to purchase. I almost rule out that this guy is seeking trouble, but his expression changes as quickly as it comes.

“Nice,” he claps. “I never thought I would have a foreigner as a classmate. A handsome one at that. Though a little less than me.

My jaw almost drops open at the sudden switch of this guy’s emotion. But I don’t earn the title of a playboy for nothing. Two of the many things I am good at are maintaining my facial expression and spouting lies.

“You’re right. You’re the handsome one, dude,” I speak out the words that are the total opposite of what my head is thinking, plastering a friendly smile.

“Of course. I’m never wrong. I am Pei, by the way. Pei Lin. Son of The Lin corporation, specializing in exporting sports products. But I like my English name better. Call me Phil.” He extends his sweaty hands.

Is this how people here introduce themselves? Do I need to know who your father is? Are you trying to show off that you’re the heir?

“Nice to meet you, Phil,” I shake his extended hand.

“So,” he sits down. “Where are you from? Why did you transfer here? What does your dad do? What company does he own?

Phil asks me a series of questions as if he is a journalist interviewing me for the Forbes front page. By the time I finish answering all his questions, the once empty class fills with students chattering and laughing. Still, whatever they are doing, I can’t ignore the fact that they keep glances my way.

I guess that is the result of a foreigner and a latecomer.

As Phil finally releases me from his questions, I look around the room, trying to see the faces of my classmates. Or to put it simply, seeking pretty faces who I can hit on. Unexpectedly, my eyes land on a pair of black eyes that glance my way. Even though they divert their attention away from mine, acting as if they didn’t look my way, I can still catch it.

I can't help but smile at the owner of those alluring, gentle, and dreamy eyes. It seems I have found my target.


<TO BE CONTINUED>

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