We are who we are. We don't change.
That's the human problem.
Routine. The dull, monotonous routine.
It's always the same: I wake up, clean myself up, head to university, then to my part-time night job.
Well, it's monotonous for me. For someone boring, friendless, and socially disconnected, everything's monotonous.
Don't get me wrong: saying my life is monotonous doesn't mean it's boring.
I know how to navigate my solitude, my quiet. The kind that doesn't drown me like it does others, but lets me know myself, forces me to introspect.
Shit! I forgot I had class at this hour —I muttered the moment I opened my eyes, panicked.
I checked the time: 7:15. I've got 45 minutes. That's plenty.
I jumped out of bed without caring about the mess in my tiny student dorm: a bed, a bathroom, a mini kitchen, and a window facing outside. Decent view, and everything I need in this box. I'm pretty simple, honestly. A place to sleep and a roof over my head is all I need… and water, obviously.
I slipped on my sandals, walked the two literal meters to the bathroom. Turned on the shower, hoping the water would warm up while I undressed. Took off the sandals and stepped in, rushing, hoping not to slip and end up like those grandparents who fall in the shower.
I'd rather not have the paramedics find me naked.
The shower lasted five minutes tops. Brushed my teeth and, since I was already in front of the mirror, slapped on some shaving foam and ran the razor over my face. Tied the towel around my waist and walked toward the kitchen. Basically five steps from the bathroom.
Turned on the stove and grabbed the biggest pan I had. Cracked three eggs into a cup and beat them with a fork until the mix looked decently smooth.
Checked the clock: 7:30.
Still got thirty minutes.
Poured the mix into the pan with a splash of oil. Waited for it to cook, tossing some cheese on top.
Headed to the closet: black compression shirt, loose black pants, plain black hoodie. Black sneakers—the only pair I own.
Got dressed.
Went back to my breakfast, now ready. Turned off the stove and wrapped my snack in a napkin so I wouldn't burn myself.
Done.
An egg omelet I can eat on the way to uni.
Checked the clock: 7:40.
Perfect.
Grabbed my skateboard, usually leaning against the door. Walked to the elevator, thankfully close to my room.
By the way, the dorms are about a thirty-minute walk from campus.
I've got twenty minutes, but with my ride I make it in ten.
Took the elevator down and, as soon as I stepped outside, hopped on the board. Pushed hard, kicking in sets of three to keep speed.
Three kicks, foot up for three seconds, three kicks… rinse and repeat.
Didn't take long to reach the university gate.
Took the last bite of my breakfast before it was gone. Wiped my mouth and tossed the napkin in the trash as I passed the main entrance with a sign that read: "Welcome, new students."
It's been two months since the new intake. That sign shouldn't still be there.
Guess even signs forget to change.
"Alright, folks, now that we're in week three and warmed up, it's time for your first graded assignment."
First assignment. I'd mentally prepped for this. And by "prepped" I mean I studied every unit of the Psychology program six months before enrolling. What can I say? I like being ready.
"It'll be a presentation."
Mmm...
Not a fan of presentations, but I'll manage.
"In groups."
Shit.
I hate group work.
Why?
Because I could do it all perfectly on my own. I work better that way. Not to mention I'll have to socialize.
Socializing is a pain. Though I could just contribute the bare minimum and avoid getting too involved.
Yeah. That's the plan.
"Form your groups with the time left, and drop a paper with your members on my desk before you leave."
…
I'll wait.
No rush. It's always the same: groups form, chatter starts, and I wait.
Eventually, the leftovers remain.
And… done.
Only four of us left.
The prof said groups of five, but I doubt he'll mind if we're the group of four… the final four.
Natural selection's over. Now we wait for the "leader" to emerge—self-appointed, obviously.
—H-h-hey…
There she is.
—W-would you g-guys l-like to m-make a group? —said the girl with glasses, staring at the floor.
She's cute. Short, glasses, short dark hair. Clearly shy.
If I had a group, I'd ask her to join.
So…
Did no one pick you, or did your shyness keep you silent?
…
Apparently, no one answered.
—I think so too —came a voice from the other side of the room.
Spoke too soon.
—Since none of us have a group, it's obvious we should form one —said the cheerful blond guy.
"Cheerful" was sarcasm.
His annoying tone bugged me, along with that baby face and that annoyingly attractive mane. Thick and long.
—Y-yeah —the shy girl replied.
What now? Am I gonna start naming them like Smurfs?
Shy, Annoying, aaand…
—Do whatever you want, just don't make me get a bad grade —said the girl two rows behind me, with her shiny long black hair and sharp matching eyes.
The reserved one.
Perfect. We're the Xforce.