Chapter 9

                                    

                                          
The lecture hall was an expansive sea of students, a cavernous space that swallowed noise and echoed whispers. I settled into my seat, tapping my pen absently against the notebook I had yet to open. The professor droned on about something mundane—some historical event that felt a million miles away from the chaos I had left behind. I struggled to focus, my mind wandering back to last night's turmoil.
The bright overhead lights flickered intermittently, and I squinted against the glare, realizing I had tuned out completely. Just as I was about to zone back in, a familiar presence approached from my left.
"Mind if I sit here?" Clay asked, his voice cutting through the noise like a breath of fresh air. He was casually dressed in a graphic tee and jeans, a stark contrast to the formality of my previous encounters.
"Sure, but just so you know, I'm not paying attention to whatever boring lecture this is," I replied bluntly, unable to hide my smirk.
"Good to know I'm not the only one," he laughed, settling into the seat beside me. "What's the point of being here if we're not even going to pretend to care?"
"Exactly! I mean, why not just take a nap instead?" I shot back, glancing at him sideways. "You'd get better rest."
"I think I'd rather be awake for the inevitable exam," he said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I'm Clay, by the way."
"Ivy," I introduced myself, feeling a flicker of curiosity ignite within me. "So, what's your major again?"
"Journalism," he said, leaning back in his chair. "It's fun, but honestly, it can also be a drag. You have to dig into the details of everyone else's lives while trying to keep your interest."
"I can't imagine trying to find the truth in everyone's bullshit," I said, my honesty spilling out. "People are usually more trouble than they're worth."
Clay chuckled, glancing at me with an intrigued expression. "You really cut to the chase, don't you?"
"Why waste time with fluff?" I shrugged. "Life's too short for polite small talk."
"Fair enough," he agreed. "So what do you actually want to do? Do you have some grand plan, or are you just winging it like the rest of us?"
I hesitated, my mind racing through the chaotic thoughts I had tried to keep buried. "I'm... figuring things out," I said carefully, aware that I was walking a fine line. "Let's just say I'm not your typical student."
"Not your typical student? You mean you're not planning to end up as a boring office worker?" he prodded, a teasing glint in his eyes.
"More like I'm not planning to end up in any office at all," I shot back, my tone playful but pointed. "I have other things on my mind."
"Like what? Sorcery? Saving the world?" he joked, leaning in with genuine interest.
"Something like that," I said, letting a mischievous smile slip onto my face. "But mostly just trying to survive without losing my sanity."
"Sounds like a tough gig," he replied, nodding. "I get that. I think we all feel a little lost at some point."
"Yeah, but some of us feel lost because we're literally not from here," I said, keeping my tone light while hinting at my truth.
"Not from here? You mean like, different countries, or are we talking interdimensional?" He laughed, clearly not taking me seriously.
"Let's just say I'm not a fan of labels," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I'm just me—not bound by anyone's expectations."
Clay watched me, his expression shifting from amusement to something more contemplative. "I can respect that. People get too caught up in what they're supposed to be. It's refreshing to meet someone who doesn't care about fitting in."
"I don't have time for fitting in," I replied bluntly. "I have too much to figure out, and frankly, it doesn't involve wasting my time with cliques."
"Then what does it involve?" he pressed, genuinely curious now.
"Finding the Garden of Stones," I said, my words tumbling out before I could stop them. "It's a long story."
"Sounds intriguing. Is that a metaphor, or are we talking actual stones?" Clay leaned forward, his eyes alight with curiosity.
"A bit of both, I suppose. It's complicated," I admitted, feeling a twinge of vulnerability at sharing that much.
"Complicated usually means good. Gives us something to talk about," he said, his smile warm and inviting.
As the professor droned on about historical events, I found myself distracted not by the lecture, but by the conversation unfolding between us. I hadn't expected to feel this comfortable with him so quickly.
"I should warn you," I said, letting my honesty flow freely, "I'm not the easiest person to get along with. I can be... a lot."
"Bring it on," Clay replied confidently. "I like a challenge."
We fell into an easy rhythm, exchanging quips and banter as the lecture dragged on. I found myself laughing more than I had in ages. With each passing moment, the lecture faded into the background, and for the first time in a while, I felt like I belonged somewhere.
As the class came to a close, I was surprised by how much I had enjoyed talking to him. "So, what's the plan? Are you going to write a tell-all about our riveting discussion?" I asked, standing up and grabbing my things.
"Only if you promise to make a cameo," he said, his tone light but his gaze serious. "But seriously, I'd love to continue this conversation sometime. Maybe over coffee?"
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the thought of coffee again. What's with everyone and coffee? I thought, but instead, I shrugged. "Sure, why not? As long as you don't order something ridiculous like a caramel macchiato."
"Deal," he laughed. "How about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow it is," I agreed, feeling an unexpected excitement bubbling within me.
As we walked out of the lecture hall together, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I was starting to find a little bit of what I was searching for.