1. Fuck this shit
1. Fuck this shit
Emara Stone
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
It’s been seven minutes and twenty-seven seconds since I have started analyzing the syllabus, planning from where to start traversing through this evil labyrinth book, ‘Introduction to Java’.
But I don't want to be introduced to Java.
I shake my head and focus on my motivation note in front of my study table,
o Clear this semester
o Get a job
o Get a boob-job
I close my eyes and take deep breaths to calm my mind.. Inhale... Exhale... Enter... Exit...
After a few seconds of deep meditation, I throw my books, notes, pens off the desk as I feel no inner spiritual powers kicking in.
"Fuck this shit." I kick the table and abruptly stand up as hardcore frustration builds on me.
Suddenly I sensed a rich aroma surrounding me, I couldn't help but take a few sniffs in the air. Sniff Sniff
Pancakes.
My tiny legs walk fast in a flash as the smell gets engulfed in my head and my taste buds leak saliva in my mouth. As soon as I enter the kitchen, I witness a shirtless guy whose shoulder muscles keep bulging out as he flips the pancake in the air.
His boxer is hanging so low on his hips that I can see a quarter of his buttocks peeking out from his bands.
What's this lousy piece of shit doing here?
That’s the first thing that came into my mind, but after watching him making pancakes, I control my sass.
"Ethan, my favorite brother! I knew you loved me, boo." I shriek in excitement as I see chocolate spread on pancakes. Oh my god! Pancakes with Nutella.
“This is for my girlfriend waiting for me in my room..” Ethan doesn't even bother to glance at me when he replies, “Not for you.”
Not only do we share the same birthdate but also the attitude. Probably from our mother.
I fist my hands tightly as I feel like to slam that same hot pan on his face, then run away with the pancakes. No one is above food.
“How is your preparation going on?” He asks me. Though Ethan is just a minute older than me, he has a brain of a robot and here I am stuck in the seventh semester from the past one year.
"Whose suitcase is that?" I ask in return as I glimpse the two suitcases in the hallway.
"That's your favorite brother and his darling girlfriend's, of course." Ethan smirks. “Going somewhere?” I ask uninterestedly.
"Well, we are going on Europe vacation to celebrate graduation later. Grabbing a bite before that." He shakes his ass and the pancakes while winking at me.
This son of a biscuit!
His audacity to wink at me when he knows that I have an exam tomorrow, although I should graduate with him if I had passed. If. I. Had. Passed.
I’m not a complete idiot, I just don't have any interest in studying and scoring appealing grades. Getting a degree is so mainstream nowadays. Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Steve Jobs nobody has a degree yet they hire people with Harvard degrees.
It’s not about marks, it’s about creativity. And I am creative as fuck.
“Em, mother again showed me a guy’s bio that fits for you. If by next year you didn't graduate or get a job, she will force you to marry that businessman. And I won’t be able to do anything to stop her. So, focus on your exams.” Ethan’s voice sounds soft while his eyes show concern for me. He takes Nutella in one hand and the plate with pancakes in another and walks away silently.
Ethan’s words felt like a sharp pinch in my chest. I don't want to be a pawn in a deal or marry some boring aged businessman who doesn't even know sex positions for more than just three.
I keep wondering why he took the Nutella when he already spread it on the pancakes. Wait... Oh! Ewwww.
I shake my head as images of his girlfriend Lucy covered in Nutella dances in my head. His words float like helium balloons in my mind as I walk out of the kitchen with no pancakes.
I need to get a job. I need a degree. But first, I need to pass.
My legs automatically take me to my room. I see my clothes, books, towel, papers, and pens on the floor lying freely, which makes it even harder to search for the floor.
I bend down and pick my books, notes, pens off the floor and keep them on my study table. I pick the chair and dust it which I had kicked a few minutes ago then slam my ass on it.
"I can't fuck this shit. I need to graduate."
I remind myself that I am doing all this for my freedom, for money. I need to pass. I need to graduate.
And I need to buy a new Nutella jar too.
Warning: The characters in this book are borderline crazy, need psychiatrist help and their mental state is on a different dimension which has nothing to do with their age. Don’t expect to behave them sober, logical or mature. Go read the next chapter!