So, I have way too many things I wanna say and way too little time, so I'll try to keep it brief:
1. Thank you so much! The feedback has been awesome, it has been truly amazing to see the reception to my first ever publicization.
2. I'm sorry the second chapter took so long to get into your hands. I had to resubmit it due to a formatting error on my part. Since it takes about 2 to 3 days to be reviewed before it's posted publicly, my mistake kind of compounded on itself.
3. I absolutely loved all of the feedback I got. Some of you have already guessed my plans for the future of the series, while some gave suggestions that I've been toying with in my spare time.
4. While I'm fine with the length of Chapter 1, it isn't what I want for the series going forward. Most future entries should be more comparable to this one in length.
I can't tell you how heartwarming the reception has been, and I hope to do right by you as I continue posting. Enjoy!
***
Mark was being followed.
Of course, he knew this; he had decided to lead Christine back to his apartment after their tryst. He felt he needed to find out more about what had happened, and the black book wouldn't be any help. It was nowhere to be found. He had spent almost an hour trying to figure out where it went, seaching under tables and rifling through bookshelves, but it's disappearance was just as baffling as its initial appearance. Since he had no other leads, Mark decided to use the one he had, namely the gorgeous blonde tailing him.
Originally, Christine had wanted to walk alongside him, holding his hand with his arm surrounded by her pillowy breasts. However, it didn't take long for Mark to realize that taking a stroll across campus with the sorority girl who just publicly shamed him would raise attention.
So, he elected for a less overt method. While he returned home, walking through the campus towards relative safety, the statuesque beauty followed from a distance, making sure not to lose him.
Soon after he had begun the trek back to safety, he became appreciative of his own foresight. While no one said it directly to him, Mark had enough experience with people talking behind his back. The shifting glances, whispers and hunched demeanors of the students around him made his ears burn. He hated this feeling; the desire to slink away into nothingness, to avoid society until the shame died down, which it never really did.
Finally, after what felt like hours of public ostracization, Mark made it home.
Just off campus, the collection of housing units was less a dormitory and more of a small villa. Miniature, modern buildings dotted the road, designed for efficiency and function over aesthetic. Each structure was small, but homely, with all the necessary appliances and functions of a small house. This allowed for a great amount of privacy, but also meant that the socially awkward freshman hadn't needed to bother with a roommate. At that moment, Mark couldn't be any more thankful for the seclusion afforded him.
He then realized the negative of not having a housemate; it left the responsibility of maintaining the homestead to one person. Rushing inside, he dashed about the kitchen, straightening up, throwing dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and doing everything he could to make his home more attractive to the first girl he had ever invited over. Managing one last spritz of Febreeze, a knock signaled he was out of time.
Striding over and opening the door, he pulled the bemused Christine across the mantle and into his home. Spinning around, she rested against the entryway table, giving him a curious but playful look.
"So," she quizzed him, "what's going on?"
That stumped Mark, though it shouldn't have. He honestly just hadn't expected her to ask a question, as he had so many of his own.
But first, he had to play the part of host. "Before we begin, would you like to come in? Sit down? I can make you something to drink, if that's okay...? Oh here, let me take your coat! I mean, your sweater!"
As he stumbled over his words, she smiled, handing him her blue sweater to hang on a nearby hook.
She made sure to brush his hand in the exchange. "That would be lovely, thank you."
As he turned to hang her garment, mentally berating himself for his idiocy, Christine walked into the small living room, coming to rest in a beanbag chair. She grinned to herself; she may never be able to sit in one again without remembering her encounter with the young man in the library.
While Mark busied himself making a small pitcher of lemonade, his guest took stock of her surroundings. Keeping in theme with the housing style, his decor was minimalist. However, she admired that he had not sacrificed comfort for aesthetic. Two beanbag chairs and an apparently soft sofa surrounded a clear glass coffee table. The living room, only separated from the small kitchen by a wooden countertop, couldn't have held more than five people comfortably. Sadly, Christine got the impression that Mark hadn't run into that problem yet.
Scurrying around the corner, the freshman in question quickly placed two plastic cups on the table, pouring his guest a generous amount before serving himself. Finally, returning the pitcher to the countertop, he quickly made his way over to the sofa, dropping himself into the seat with a nervous energy.
Neither spoke for a while. The girl thought it would be impolite for her to go first, given Mark's seemingly numerous questions. The boy was still locked onto the idea that Christine was his guest, and should be afforded the first word.
Finally, one of them had the sense to break the silence. She scooted forward, coming to rest her arms on her knees as she looked up at her host.
"What did you do to me?"
For the millionth time that day, Mark didn't know what to do. How should he answer that? 'Oh, I brainwashed you by getting your attention and snapping my fingers. But don't worry! A magic book told me to, so it's okay. Also, I have no idea what the side effects of this are, or what to do now. Hell, I don't even know if I've destroyed your free will. Just trust me for a little while while I figure this out?'
As he was stuck wrestling with an answer, Christine noticed the struggle taking place and intervened. "Oh, don't worry, I don't really mind, I was just curious why I feel this way is all."
He stopped. "...Wait, you aren't mad?"
The blonde laughed, resting back into her chair. "Why would I be upset with you? I feel great."
