Clad in glittery white, the blazer was tailored to the torso and buttoned at the center. That pair of brown Bermudas bringing memories of D&G in the making complimented those white loafers holding on softly to his feet. Brandon felt the heat seeping into his green polo the moment he stepped out of the racer. "The first few days..." Brandon grumbled to himself as he walked into the campus...
It was buzzing with people of different sorts. "How am I going to take this shit...?" He couldn't stand noisy places. He just couldn't preconceive hanging out with people who spoke crap english and behaved in a way that portrayed no diginity. Brandon did feel weird, in fact. The people kept staring as if he was some alien or something. "If only I had studied hard... Damn it.."
The reaction worsen as he walked into the leacture theatre... from the front door. Dead silence. It was like the patients in a mental institute stop yelling for a while. Totally out of place. Brandon climbed the steps, dropped into the seat and took the Zara off his face. Yes, the stares were still present. "Look again and I'll slap the taste out of your mouths.." How he wish he could just say that.. But you wouldn't know what a bunch of monkeys would do to you, wouldn't you? Wow, Brandon had a conscience.. Images of him kicking that nut in the balls on the first day of school flashed passed his eyes. Stupid asshole wouldn't stop laughing at my Dior bag which he claimed looked like his mom's....
You must be reading this and thinking that Brandon is a rich, spoilt, arrogant, insensitive and probably, a Himbo! Well, if that's what you're guessing... you're totally RIGHT. I would hate him.. Would you hate him?
To be continued....
