I've been pacing for two hours in the lobby of the design faculty at the University of Purasab City. My resolve is unanimous. Today I have to stop the tug-of-war that the lecturer did to me.
Not without effort, several times I tried to send a short message to him. Several times I lowered my pride and mustered up the courage to call that Sociology lecturer. However, until this vent was revealed, he hasn't provided clarity and hung up on my grades.
I'm just an ordinary student. I went to college, not to have fun or just to spend my parents' money. God! How else can I express that I really want to graduate and leave this damn campus?
What's so hard about writing an A or just a B for one student? Among my 25 classmates, how that old man just missed my name. He got so many reasons to avoid me. That he's busy, he doesn't have internet anymore, he's playing golf on Mars, and is the best man for a giraffe newlywed.
Well, if he had good intentions to help me, he could have accessed my grades while having a potty business in the toilet. Right? That's actually better than reading shampoo labels or liking photos of pornstars on Enstagram?
I'm not lazy, or a stupid student. So then he doesn't want to give me a grade. My GPA last semester was 3.5. Good enough. And most important, I don't get it from selling my soul to evil. Or licking everyone's butt.
By the way, about selling myself. (Let's called it rent.) It occurred to me that this problem actually started there. Six months ago.
At that time, the weather in the city of Purasab was cloudy. The clouds floated in the sky as if they were lining up groceries. The wind blew and dropped the pollen from the leafy plants on the roadside. Can you imagine how cold it was at that time?
I was warming myself up in a coffee shop. In front of me, perched two empty drinks and a laptop that had been charged 3 times already. Which seemed to describe how hard my life as a design major student was.
Meanwhile, something very ironic happened across from where I was sitting. There was a pair of teenagers chatting while holding hands. Their laughter flew into the air like a lead bullet that pierced my consciousness. Yes, how long have I not had a boyfriend? How long has this body not felt another person's touch? How long has my heart not felt a real romance drama? It seems that these assignments have made me forget about the pleasures of youth.
Then, just like that, the idea popped into my head. How would I get a burst of hormones without being overwhelmed by romance dramas? I want instant. A simple relationship, hassle-free, can be happy, but avoid the risk of heartbreak.
Aha! How about I pass the time by selling myself?
In short, just like that my fingers immediately combed the chat rooms of matchmaking sites. And I accidentally found that guy's name there. My lecturer.
Yes, how would I know? That man put a photo of his son there. How can I know he is my teacher if I haven't been able to glance at each other when I knock on the door of the room he rents?
Of course, I pretended to be in the wrong room. Of course, I avoided it. I'm not crazy yet. But still. We were both caught up having fun at the hotel.
After that we got awkward. In our class, we pretended that nothing happened. My final result didn't come out either. Maybe he wants to punish me. Because I don't serve him. Or because I was caught acting 'naughty'. But how do I punish him? Really, do I have to spit out our chat from the application?

I decided to continue waiting by sitting on the chair in front of the lecturer's room.
And, it was there when I met this woman for the first time.
She stood in front of me. Her face is a perfect oval. Her cheekbones were high and made her symmetrical face appear slender. Her skin color is light. Her wet lips twitched. Her thick eyebrows and the line of eyeliner from her eyes made her gaze even sharper.
"Hei... Hi?" Her voice broke my thoughts.
"Yes? Sorry, is there anything I can help you with?” I reflexively stood up. Unknowingly I guessed her height. “One hundred and sixty,” I muttered.
"A hundred, what?" asked the girl confused.
“Oh! Nevermind… How can I help you?”
“Seminar room. I'm looking for a seminar room," she answered.
I immediately pointed up. She followed my finger. She looked up, showing me her long neck. I swallowed my own saliva. I thought she was beautiful.
“I mean, the seminar room is on the second floor. The stairs are outside. Not in here." I explained.
She nods. Her smile stretched across her lips, exposing two bunny teeth and a row of teeth neatly lined up between them. “Thank you,” she said.
I nodded. Then I tucked my hair behind my ear. I stared at her figure. The white shirt she wears is almost transparent. She wears pencil jeans that showed off her slender legs. Red sneakers.
Am I judging her performance? Why did I do it?
I sighed. I'm sure I will soon forget this meeting, like other meetings that are unimportant in my life. However, just like that, my feet betrayed me. Suddenly I followed her. Then my troublesome brain started thinking and looking for excuses. She would not find where the second-floor stairs were, said my brain.
As our steps got closer, the woman turned around, so now she knew that I was stalking behind her. I felt embarrassed, but I have no time to explain my strange behavior. Because my mouth grabbed first. "I never saw you here."
And she smiled back at me. "I'm only going to be a student for another semester," she said. She took another step forward so that we were only two feet apart. I can smell her perfume, also the smell of candy hiding in her mouth.
"Let me take you to the seminar room." I offered myself while walking towards the stairs. My heart jumped with joy without knowing why.
"Thank you," she replied.
"Too early for you to register now, right?" I asked.
The girl did not answer my words. But I felt her gaze scanning my back.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to say much." I felt uneasy instantly, and I turned my head once again.
The look on her face was understandable. "My name is Maya," she introduced herself.
I stared into her clear eyes for three or four seconds as I memorized her name while I struggled to find my name. "My name is… Alesia. I'm a fine arts student."
Then silence danced with the air around us.
"Maya," I called when I reached the second floor.
The girl turned to me. "Yes?"
"We have arrived."