No, enough of thinking about it! It's only Cedric Morgan. And it's a two-day weekend. But those two days flew by, and instead of building up my willpower, my mind went back to my conversation with Cedric.
Monday flew by like a second. I was inattentive in lectures, unable to concentrate on the lecturer's story, and I was even asked a couple of times if I was feeling well. The breaks were even worse: my classmates, who knew I was studying with Cedric and that we'd already had a class, were besieging me and terrorising me with questions, demanding to know how it went, what we'd talked about, how Cedric looked at me, and even what tone of voice he used. It was a mess! I didn't remember such little things, either, for all my thoughts and efforts were focused on trying to keep myself from looking at him.
For fear of being noticed by the gossipers again, as soon as the last class (an extra physics class for those who didn't understand the previous lecture well) was over, I literally flew out of the classroom and headed for the library. It was three minutes to five, and this time I could be late, and I didn't want to be late. I almost ran into the library, and as I looked around the room, I saw Cedric sitting at our table, reading a book.
I quickly walked over to the table.
– Hi," I said to Cedric, breathing hard after walking down the long corridors and stairs of the university.
– Hi. You shouldn't have been in such a hurry," Cedric said with a slight chuckle, pulling away from his book and glancing at me.
– I've had a crazy day," I explained, pulling out the physics textbook I needed. – I had an extra class, but I didn't want to be late. I'm punctual as Hell.
– I can see that," Cedric grinned again.
Today he was dressed extremely simply and did not look as dapper as when we first talked.
– What are you reading? – I asked: I was really curious about the book he was reading so avidly.
Cedric closed the book and showed me the front cover.
– Baudelaire? – I was genuinely surprised. – It was the first time I'd ever seen a guy who liked Baudelaire's poetry.
I thought guys like Cedric Morgan weren't interested in literature or poetry at all. And he's read Charles Baudelaire's Flowers of Evil. In the original.
Cedric squinted his eyes and put the book down on the table.
– Does that surprise you? – He asked in a mocking tone. His eyes lit up with an icy glow.
– To be honest, it does," I replied, feeling a chill run down my spine from his icy stare.
– Why not?
– Men rarely read poetry, because most of them consider it "unmasculine". And those men who like poetry rarely prefer Baudelaire and find his poems incomprehensible and too dark.
– That's how it is," he said mockingly, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at me contemptuously. His biting gaze made my soul shudder. – You're trying to be clever, aren't you? But instead of cleverness, you showed only that you know nothing about men and think like a naive fool.
I couldn't believe my ears. I was amazed. So astonished that I couldn't immediately find the words to respond to his open rudeness. To his insult. My hands trembled. And Cedric continued to sit there, killing me with his venomous stare.
– You are a prude, though! – I said quietly, trying not to let my excitement show in my voice. – This isn't the first time you've insulted a woman, is it?
