The Teller
King of Half-Truths
Why hello there! This is a story I've been working on for Camp NaNoWriMo last month. The basic premise is that it's a collection of daydreams and fantasies dreamt up by the narrator, so every chapter besides the first one is not based in reality. However, if you think of it like a TV series, each pair of lovers in each chapter is "played" by the same "actors," as daydreams about your crush are wont to be. The entire story is rated PG-13 mainly for language, so keep that in mind. Hope this is to your liking, and enjoy!
Chapter 1
It was early in the morning when I sat down in the small lecture hall for one of my elective courses. Well, “elective” being rather subjective in this case, since I had little to no choice but to sign up for this course due to a lack of more interesting and valid options. Still, I was always a good student, so it wasn’t like I was fearing failing the course. And besides, if I hadn’t taken this course at this specific timeslot, I wouldn’t have met him.
Well, “met” being rather subjective in this case. He happened to coexist in the same classroom as I did, but we never spoke.
Darting my eyes as far to the left as I could make them, I saw him enter the room. I darted my eyes back to the front, just in case someone were to catch on. Ah, the perfect crime. I then darted them back to where I knew he would sit down. He always chose the same seat. Careful analysis on my part revealed that he probably didn’t know anyone in the class. Evidence supporting this claim was the fact that he didn’t talk to anyone seated next to him. Contradictory claims could be made that it was nine in the morning and thus no one would feel like talking to anyone, much less want to be in a boring class that no one probably wanted to major in. I’d like to think, though, that if I had friends in class with me, no matter what time of day it was, I’d want to talk to them. He sat down in the chair I’d predicted and I moved my eyes back to the front.
Here were the things I knew about him: he wore clothes, breathed the same air as I did, took the same class in the same university at the same time as I did, wasn’t missing any arms, legs, or fingers, didn’t talk to anyone in this particular class, had hair, no visible piercings, owned a book bag, a notebook, a pen, a textbook, and was capable of feeling cold, due to him wearing a jacket once the weather got cold. In other words, I knew nothing about him. I didn’t even know his name. It would be kind of hard to try to Facebook stalk someone when all you knew about them was what they looked like and what school they went to. It was a big university and all, plus this was assuming that he had a profile on Facebook at all to begin with. There were a few things I could infer, though. His hair was actually brown, and it didn’t look like he dyed it that way. He typically always wore jeans. His shirts were usually tees, and he only ever wore one jacket. I did get a peek one time when he was especially bent over and discovered that he wore boxers; at least, he wore boxers that day. They were plaid. I never got a good enough look at his teeth, but I could assume they were all there, and I’d like to think that they were sparkly white. If that was true, then I could assume that he didn’t smoke as well. He was constantly never completely clean-shaven, though he didn’t grow his facial hair out to a full beard and moustache. His clothing made it hard to tell for sure, but I was pretty sure that he was in relatively good shape. At the very least, he wasn’t obviously fat, nor was he obviously on steroids. He had a rather big nose, at least bigger than some of the other guys in the class. When he took his jacket off, I could see some arm hair.
Again, these were just assumptions of his looks. I didn’t know one thing about his personality. These, too, I would assume in my mind. He was intelligent and had a plan. The fact that he was here in college would support that. His clothing and his hair would suggest that he wasn’t some feminine guy studying theater, nor was he a douchebag who spends all his time in the gym. He was just a normal guy. He had friends, they just weren’t in this particular class. He was The Nice One in the group. He had some interests similar to my own. What they were, well, the fun would be in finding those out. He was definitely attractive. I wouldn’t really use the word “hot” since he wasn’t like a model or anything. He wasn’t “cute” either. The best word I could think of was “handsome.” He was definitely “husband” material, and I was always aware of the fact that I had skipped “boyfriend” and went straight to “husband.” I felt like if I asked him out on a date, by the end we’d already be past the honeymoon phase and stuck squarely in the “mundane routine” phase of a long-term relationship. And the weird part is, I wanted that.
Sometimes in class, sometimes in my dorm room, I would close my eyes and daydream. He and I would be there, and a psychologist would have a field day interpreting what I would come up with.
Chapter 1
It was early in the morning when I sat down in the small lecture hall for one of my elective courses. Well, “elective” being rather subjective in this case, since I had little to no choice but to sign up for this course due to a lack of more interesting and valid options. Still, I was always a good student, so it wasn’t like I was fearing failing the course. And besides, if I hadn’t taken this course at this specific timeslot, I wouldn’t have met him.
Well, “met” being rather subjective in this case. He happened to coexist in the same classroom as I did, but we never spoke.
Darting my eyes as far to the left as I could make them, I saw him enter the room. I darted my eyes back to the front, just in case someone were to catch on. Ah, the perfect crime. I then darted them back to where I knew he would sit down. He always chose the same seat. Careful analysis on my part revealed that he probably didn’t know anyone in the class. Evidence supporting this claim was the fact that he didn’t talk to anyone seated next to him. Contradictory claims could be made that it was nine in the morning and thus no one would feel like talking to anyone, much less want to be in a boring class that no one probably wanted to major in. I’d like to think, though, that if I had friends in class with me, no matter what time of day it was, I’d want to talk to them. He sat down in the chair I’d predicted and I moved my eyes back to the front.
Here were the things I knew about him: he wore clothes, breathed the same air as I did, took the same class in the same university at the same time as I did, wasn’t missing any arms, legs, or fingers, didn’t talk to anyone in this particular class, had hair, no visible piercings, owned a book bag, a notebook, a pen, a textbook, and was capable of feeling cold, due to him wearing a jacket once the weather got cold. In other words, I knew nothing about him. I didn’t even know his name. It would be kind of hard to try to Facebook stalk someone when all you knew about them was what they looked like and what school they went to. It was a big university and all, plus this was assuming that he had a profile on Facebook at all to begin with. There were a few things I could infer, though. His hair was actually brown, and it didn’t look like he dyed it that way. He typically always wore jeans. His shirts were usually tees, and he only ever wore one jacket. I did get a peek one time when he was especially bent over and discovered that he wore boxers; at least, he wore boxers that day. They were plaid. I never got a good enough look at his teeth, but I could assume they were all there, and I’d like to think that they were sparkly white. If that was true, then I could assume that he didn’t smoke as well. He was constantly never completely clean-shaven, though he didn’t grow his facial hair out to a full beard and moustache. His clothing made it hard to tell for sure, but I was pretty sure that he was in relatively good shape. At the very least, he wasn’t obviously fat, nor was he obviously on steroids. He had a rather big nose, at least bigger than some of the other guys in the class. When he took his jacket off, I could see some arm hair.
Again, these were just assumptions of his looks. I didn’t know one thing about his personality. These, too, I would assume in my mind. He was intelligent and had a plan. The fact that he was here in college would support that. His clothing and his hair would suggest that he wasn’t some feminine guy studying theater, nor was he a douchebag who spends all his time in the gym. He was just a normal guy. He had friends, they just weren’t in this particular class. He was The Nice One in the group. He had some interests similar to my own. What they were, well, the fun would be in finding those out. He was definitely attractive. I wouldn’t really use the word “hot” since he wasn’t like a model or anything. He wasn’t “cute” either. The best word I could think of was “handsome.” He was definitely “husband” material, and I was always aware of the fact that I had skipped “boyfriend” and went straight to “husband.” I felt like if I asked him out on a date, by the end we’d already be past the honeymoon phase and stuck squarely in the “mundane routine” phase of a long-term relationship. And the weird part is, I wanted that.
Sometimes in class, sometimes in my dorm room, I would close my eyes and daydream. He and I would be there, and a psychologist would have a field day interpreting what I would come up with.