Mabel

4

I very well could be Bridget Jones or any RomCom lead, really, considering how absolutely absurd it is to meet Kai again, a day later, like this.

I'm horrifically late to my studio this time–not that it really matters that much because I still don't have a topic and Professor Kang will want to flatten out my head with a printing roller–not to mention I'm also fairly underdressed in cotton red pyjama pants, obnoxiously yellow flip-flops and a grey Champion hoodie that's probably Luca's if the sprite form of Princess Peach on the front is anything to go by.

But Mabel Ortega does not accept defeat, so I take off with my bag secured across the princess' face, running as fast as I can in flip-flops (which isn't very fast) and bringing too much attention to myself once I get out onto campus, considering they're flapping against the concrete with each step. I assume I sound vaguely like a cartoon duck.

I check the time on my cracked (but still better than a Samsung) iPhone 11, smiling a little to myself as I see the lovely picture of a mandarin fish on my lock screen.

It doesn't last long because, then, my gaze flicks up to the time which is when I make the lovely discovery that I'm twenty minutes late.

All because I told Luca his casserole was sucky last night and the man decided not to wake me up this morning (it wasn't even sucky, I just really wanted pizza) and stupid Talia slept over at Morin's last night again, so she didn't wake me either.

I'm about to put my phone away, but then I see that I got a notification from my favourite aquatic forum (fishlore.com) and I mentally squeal a little as I go to click it.

And it is then that my phone goes flying out of my hand because my stupid flip-flop gets caught in the hem of my pyjama pants and I ungraciously trip.

But the thing is, I already braced myself and expected concrete. What I get instead is immediate angry cussing and a rather firm, but warm landing.

Lifting my head from where it had unceremoniously landed on a solid chest that, had it been any other time, I would be grateful for. But at this present time, I could see the daggers being sent my way by the owner of said chest.

"Oh, it's my stalker!"

Really, I didn't know what the fuck I expected to happen from saying that, but regardless I end up rolled over onto my back, harshly hitting the stone ground as Kai brushes himself off with a horrendous-looking scowl.

"Mean," I lament, but before I can actually apologize about slamming into the guy, he's already dashing off.

"Meaner," I conclude, raising myself from the floor with a huff.

I check my phone again, see I'm almost twenty-two minutes late now, and figure I might as well take my time, considering I feel like I've broken a bone, even with the initially good landing.

I hope Kai's not any worse off–just because I'm not an asshole, unlike some.

<・)))><<

"Twenty-five minutes late, Mabel Ortega," Kang calls out just as I'm sneaking past the fashion mannequins in a vain attempt to somehow not get noticed and pretend I was here on time for once.

I stop, sending an endearing grin to my professor (who doesn't fall for it) and say, "That's a new record, right?"

Kang sighs deeply. Trademark reaction to... pretty much anything I ever do.

"No, actually; you were forty-seven minutes late once last year."

"Ah..." I mutter, face crumbling into a considerably awkward grimace.

I remember that. I'd gotten up early just to go to the ice-cream shop a little way down from campus to be the first to try the new flavour they were unveiling. It was reasonable enough to expect to beat the traffic; who else wants ice cream at eight in the morning?

Apparently, college students do. A lot of them.

I queued for one hour, realized when I got to the front that it was some sort of lemon flavour and I don't even like citrus, walked away at an absurdly slow pace due to my crippling disappointment, and managed to be ridiculously late to class.

Kang had made me come back in the evening to take down all the old display pieces and put up new ones for the university open morning (I don't have long enough nails to easily take out the pins so it was a painful and never-ending procedure) and I ended up missing Talia's dance competition who promptly wanted to kill me for doing so.

"Did you find a topic?"

'No' is the answer, but I think this over for a moment.

I'm late to class, came in my pyjamas so it's kind of obvious I overslept and didn't get stuck behind a small parade or had to help an injured bird (besides, I've used both of those excuses before). I'm pretty sure I don't even have my sketchbook with me and on top of that, I haven't picked a topic like the man had practically begged me to.

I like my head the way it is, thank you very much. I don't want to look like Andy Warhol's latest printed masterpiece when my professor decides to steam-roll me, never mind take a printing roller to me.

"Yeah!" I enthuse, surprisingly convincing for someone who is lying and also dead inside from having to take the one thing I despise most in the world besides citrus.

"I've decided to take your sound advice and do portraiture," I explain, watching as my professor's face lights up. It warms my heart, really. I like to see the man happy.

That's why I'm buttering him up with the 'sound advice' and cheesy smiles.

Definitely not because I'm terrified of being forced to neaten up all the department's tissue paper by way of safety-scissoring off the cut-up scraps left attached and the gaping holes in the middle (who the hell cuts right in the middle??) when I tell him I don't have my sketchbook.

Or... any of my supplies, really.

"I'm so glad, Mabel!" He says, and for a moment I let myself feel a sense of pride and ease as Kang smiles jovially at me and I return it without worrying about my impending sentence.

"Now, did you attempt some rough sketches like I asked?"

Shit.