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He's not supposed to be here.
His heart feels just about ready to crawl out of his throat, leg bouncing wildly as he sits rigid in the row of chairs at the back of the room. The more people that walk in, the more on edge he feels, seats slowly being filled as the little electric clock in the front of the room creeps closer towards the start of the hour.
Out of place is an understatement for how he probably looks. Everyone has a bag, something to type or write with sitting on the little unfoldable surface built onto every chair. Perhaps he could have bothered to bring a notebook or something, but that probably would have been too suspicious. Besides, Hunter didn't even think that he would get this far.
Thankfully, no one seems to pay him any mind, some of the people here frankly looking too zombified to even register that he's there. Hunter's okay with that. In fact, he prefers that. Statistically speaking, the chance of anyone here recognizing him is slim. Airing on the side of caution is always the best course of action, though.
The light chatter that had been occupying the otherwise boring lecture hall comes to a halt shortly after an older man walks in, taking his helm at the front near the computer setup. Hunter sinks into his chair as if he's trying to be swallowed by it whole, avoiding eye contact with the professor. It turns out that he was worried for nothing (again). This guy looks just about as interested in this class as the person a few rows ahead of him who has somehow already managed to fall asleep.
His chest deflates as he lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. His shoulders ache where they've been so tight, stress finally melting away as the professor starts to get into his lesson. He did it. He really did it. Hunter managed to actually sit in during a real university lecture, everything so far going according to—
The door near the back of the lecture hall suddenly bursts open. He's extremely glad that he's situated in the back of the class because of how high he just jumped, a flush of embarrassment burning his features. Brown eyes shoot to the person responsible for disrupting the peace, brows furrowed slightly in disapproval. Hunter's not even in this class and he was on time. The person in question looks a bit frazzled, short hair a bit of a mess as her bag jingles noisily in her hurry to find a seat.
To Hunter's utter horror, the tardy stranger decides that she's going to come to the very back row, too. Not only that, but that she's actually going to plop herself and her bag with way too many keychains down a mere two seats away from him. Despite the fact that this row as well as the row in front of them are practically empty. The loud sound of her bag's zipper doesn't help his annoyance, her arm reaching into her bag to fish out an insanely over-decorated journal with enough stickers to completely cover the front of it.
To add insult to injury, and Hunter's utter demise, she actually has the gall to attempt conversation with him, too.
"Hey, uh, do you have any notes on what I miss—Oh, what? You're not taking any. Wow, you're brave..."
Hunter keeps facing forward, not indulging her with a reply. Her voice is hushed, but not nearly hushed enough, one of the people a few rows ahead of them turning around for a moment to shoot her a harsh glare. She doesn't seem to get the warning, though, and she certainly doesn't get that he is not interested.
"Actually, I haven't seen you here before at all..."
That gets a reaction out of him, the ever-present fear of someone figuring out he's not where he's supposed to be boiling to the surface.
"Just transferred."
The lie leaves his lips faster than he can even truly think out what he's saying, and the girl seems to realize that, brow raising at his response. His leg has started to bounce again, the moment of victory from before completely shattered.
He really should have just stayed where he was supposed to. He should have listened to the millions of different doubts about trying to come here. Public universities are filled with corrupt views and skewed history, anyways, something his uncle has always warned him about. That's why he was immensely lucky to be homeschooled by his tutors. His uncle is already so busy, but he still takes time out of his day to guide Hunter. Yet, he disobeyed him. Again. Just so he could come be fed lies in a room full of misguided people. Hunter knew better, and yet, here he was. His uncle deserved a better nephew. He was going to find out and—
"Oh. Cool!! We don't get very many transfer students. Small town Connecticut and all that. If you ever need a study partner, then let me know!!"
The stranger's voice brings him back down to Earth, the harsh sound of the same person a few rows in front of them shushing her finally seeming to shut her up. A quick apology leaves her mouth, and she goes to pick up her pencil, falling silent. He didn't see her open her journal in his momentary spiral. Instead of class notes like one would expect, though, Hunter can see only messy doodles as she flicks through the pages attempting to find a clean one.
Hunter thinks this girl might be insane.
Whatever odds are against him decide he's had enough for a little while, the rest of the lecture going by without any difficulty. The girl must have gotten the memo that he wasn't interested in having mindless conversation—when they were supposed to be quiet no less—because she doesn't try to talk to him anymore. Not that he is complaining.
Sooner than he would have liked, people start to pack their things into their backpacks. Hunter tunes out the professor's drawl and shoots out of his chair, hoping to beat the crowd out of the door. The blond doesn't wait for the girl to pack up her things so he can get around her, so he just goes the other way, bee-lining towards the exit door so that he can get to his bike as fast as possible.
The ride back is not that grueling, but it's enough time to think up a good excuse of why his errand took so long. Maybe he can rough himself up a bit to make it look like he wrecked his bike? No, that's dumb. Maybe the road he usually takes was closed? No, no. That would be so easy to fact-check. Dumb idea. Uncle Philip would immediately know he was lying. Hunter throws a leg over the bike as he puts the chain that he used to tie it up in his jacket pocket, hands gripping the handlebars ready to take off.
"Hey!! Wait—"
Of course.
Hunter doesn't know what makes him pause, staying put as the girl from before jingles her merry way towards his bike. He could leave. Right now. There's no way that she would be able to catch him on foot. She must have ran out of the lecture hall to catch him from the way she needs a second to catch her breath, too. So what is keeping him?
"Whew, I thought I missed you... Um, I'm really sorry about class. I wasn't trying to bother you or anything." Her hand goes up to the back of her neck, the other moving wildly as she talks. "But... I was just going to see if you wanted to borrow a textbook or two. Mamá says that I should re-sell them or something, but ugh—that's too much hassle. I can bring a few next class if you'd be interested? Oh—I'm Luz by the way."
His jaw falls open slightly in shock. Why on Earth would she feel the need to let him borrow books? He's a stranger. This Luz person has no clue who he is. She has no clue what kind of trouble that having unauthorized textbooks could get him into. Which is, to say, a lot of trouble. The thought of his uncle somehow finding them makes him sick to his stomach. Uncle may never forgive Hunter for that, disappointing him one too many times. Luz has to be crazy for even offering.
"Hunter."
"Huh?"
"My name's Hunter."
Hunter has to be even crazier for accepting.