Are You… the University Director?!
1170 Words
Amara Cross POV
I pressed my forehead against the cold bus window. A shiver ran through my bones, sharp like tiny needles. I wanted to cry. Or sleep. Or disappear for just two minutes away from this world. My head spun like a wild storm, and my temperature kept rising, crazy and uncontrollable, like a coal furnace burning in the middle of a frozen winter.
After a rough ride, I finally found myself standing in front of the university gates. My feet dragged me forward unwillingly while my fingers clutched the large gray scarf tight, fighting the violent wind that slapped against my face.
The place was crowded with rich students. Loud laughter. Expensive perfumes. Confident steps.
As for me, I felt like I was walking at the bottom of the ocean. Everything around me was slow, heavy, blurry, drowned behind the fog of sickness.
I went straight to the administration building, specifically to the vice director’s office. I knocked softly, like my shaky heartbeat. It was barely heard, but his voice came, firm and commanding.
"You are… Amara Cross, correct?"
I nodded silently, still frozen by the door, then whispered in a hoarse voice that felt like swallowing stones.
"Yes…"
"Good. We were expecting you. You are already registered as I told you. Come receive your papers."
I walked in with heavy steps, as if chains were tied around my ankles, and sat on the chair in front of his desk.
*******
I no longer felt like I had a body. Just a pile of exhaustion wrapped in a heavy coat.
I finally stood up slowly. The ground swayed under me. My fever climbed higher, like a pressure pot about to explode. This was no longer simple tiredness. It was a silent beast tearing my body apart.
I decided to go to the medical room. Maybe I would find something to cool the fire eating me alive. I walked like I was drunk. The hallway lights danced in front of my eyes until suddenly a warm, strong hand grabbed my arm to support me.
I lifted my head slowly and saw a beautiful dark skinned girl. Her wavy brown hair fell over her shoulders, and light freckles decorated the tip of her nose like tiny grains of sugar.
"Are you okay? I saw you in the lecture hall earlier. You looked exhausted. No one noticed you, but I was sitting behind you."
Inside the clinic, the doctor turned to me and smiled gently.
"Alright. I’ll take care of you now, little one. Come on, Amara."
My heart jumped when she said little one. I didn’t know why Mr. Dorian’s image flashed through my mind. I walked in with unsteady steps and sat on the medical bed.
"Let me check your temperature first," the doctor said softly, placing the digital thermometer under my tongue.
I couldn’t speak. I only nodded weakly, trying to hold myself together, while the dark skinned girl watched me with worry, her hands clasped like she was waiting for a final verdict.
The thermometer beeped. The doctor frowned slightly.
"Almost forty degrees. That’s high. You’ll stay here for a while. I’ll give you a fever shot and medicine for your runny nose."
My limbs started shaking from the cold despite the warm room. I stretched out my arm in surrender when she approached with the needle and squeezed my eyes shut when it touched my skin.
"You’re new here, right?" the doctor asked while pressing cotton on the injection spot.
"Yes… today is my first day at the university…"
I parted ways with the dark skinned girl when she went to the restroom. My feet led me toward the hall she described. But a woman in her thirties stopped me with a serious voice.
"Excuse me. Are you Amara Cross?"
I stopped and turned slowly. She lowered her glasses to the tip of her nose and scanned me from head to toe like a precise machine.
"Yes. That’s me, ma’am."
Her right eyebrow lifted in a strange look. A mix of hatred and indifference. Like I had committed an unforgivable crime.
"Go to the director’s office immediately."
My eyes widened. I froze. What did I do? Why would the director want to see me on my first day?
"Why…?" I asked hesitantly, but she cut me off sharply, wounding my pride.
"There is no why. Move your butt and go to the office!"
I gasped in shock and instinctively grabbed my backside, drowning in embarrassment I had never felt before. She ignored me and walked away. I searched nervously until a student showed me the room.
I stood in front of the large door and knocked lightly.
"Come in."
The voice inside was calm. Masculine.
I opened the door slowly and walked in, feeling the air tighten around me. I didn’t dare lift my eyes from the floor. My fingers clenched my skirt.
"Are you the student Amara Cross?" he asked, studying me.
"Yes… that’s me, Director," I answered, barely audible.
Silence fell for a second, then he spoke more firmly.
"It’s rude not to look at someone when they speak to you, Miss Cross."
That tone. That pause.
It was terrifyingly familiar.
I lifted my head slowly. The moment my eyes met the man behind the desk, I gasped hard, like someone stole the air from my lungs.
"Mr. Dorian?! Are you… the university director?!"
He sat with authority filling the room. His hands were clasped on the desk. His black eyes stared at me calmly, deeply.
"We greet first, don’t we?"
I gasped again and bowed quickly, trying to gather my embarrassment.
"Hello, Mr. Dorian."
I straightened, watching his stone like face. It didn’t move. He ignored my greeting and flipped through some papers, then spoke smoothly.
"Miss Amara Cross, since you are among the top students, you have been selected for a distinguished student group."
He paused. Our eyes locked in an unsettling stare. His gaze pierced straight through me.
I lifted my eyes, pretending strength despite my shaking voice.
"I… I don’t really know what to say… Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Dorian. I will do my best. I promise."
He didn’t answer. Only nodded slightly and returned to his papers.
I stood there, confused, then turned to leave. Just before touching the door handle, I turned back quickly.
"Mr. Dorian…"
He looked up calmly. His captivating eyes shone, making me more nervous. I swallowed and asked softly.
"My pho… my phone. I mean… do you have it now?"
He didn’t speak. He only hummed in confirmation that he still had it.
I took a deep breath and finally said with a bit of courage.
"Could you give it to me then?"
He watched me in irritating silence, then answered coldly, his expression unchanged.
"At three o’clock. Don’t be late."
I understood clearly. I wouldn’t get it now.
I left helplessly, a heavy feeling pressing on my chest, wondering how I would face the presence of this man again at three.
- Writer
