Drew Whittle, Exhausted College Student - A New Student

Warning: Contains very little mind control and no sexual content at all. I was planning on writing both, but then the story went in a weirdly wholesome direction very different than I had expected. I decided to post it anyway, Sue me. (I did put in a little hook for more kinky adventures in the future though. Maybe I'll write them in a different story another day!)

Happy Reading! <3

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Northfield Tech University. A rapidly growing college that accepted all applicants, who learned a more diverse group of subjects than one might assume from a school with Tech in the name. It had started as a specialized, small-scale institution for Computer Science majors, but now the University boasted a Basketball team that made it to the State Semi-Finals, an orchestra that was able to fund itself due to concert revenue, and a horribly overlooked English Department. They were the real deal all right!

Drew Whittle couldn't give a shit.

His head rested on his open palm as he avoided looking at the other students filing into the Finance 1010 class with him. It was a required course for everyone's General Credits, which was truly unfortunate. Not because Drew had to take another class; this was his resting class. Sure, the professor was a true maniac, but the material was a joke, so he could take it easy here, in between the classes that actually mattered. If any of the dumb classes at this school for drop-outs could matter.

No, it was unfortunate because everyone had to take the course, which meant it was filled with people.

Drew didn't hate people, exactly. There were even a couple he liked, and he'd be an asshole if he didn't admit to loving his parents, after all they'd done to help him get here. But strangers? No thanks.

Luckily, Drew didn't attract many friendly types. With his willowy build, long black hair, purple hoodie, and deeeeeep bags under his eyes, he wasn't very inviting. The seats next to him were even open, with nobody sitting there. Drew liked that.

He'd once heard a classmate whispering about him during one group project or another. She said he looked like a serial-killer in a tv show she watched a few years ago.

Drew liked that, too.

Honestly, if he could skip college all together, he would. It was one of the biggest scams in the country after all. But, alas, he had made a foolish mistake as a child; staring up at the TV, dreaming of making his own cartoon one day. Call him a romantic, but he still dreamed about it every day.

When he wasn't drinking three cups of coffee a day and juggling nine credits worth of animation homework and nine credits of generals homework, that is.

Drew sighed. Another day in paradise.

The door to the classroom opened with a controlled motion, and Professor Dearing marched in with a deliberate air. The woman was only in her late thirties, but Drew knew she had the heart of an 89 year old crone. She always wore a turtleneck and black slacks over her bony body, and Drew had never seen her more gleeful than when she asked a question to one of her students that they had no chance of knowing the answer to. He was pretty sure that he could even see little bits of hair shaped like horns in the midst of her red-dyed shoulder cut.

Not wasting any time, Dearing opened up her laptop at the podium in front of the college classroom as the last of the students found their seats, preparing for another tedious power point. They were four weeks into the semester, and everyone knew to be here before the Professor began. Those who didn't... well, this generals class that every student needed to take had started the semester with 40 students, and was now down to 32. The eight who had left had been late to class on the first day.

Word had apparently gotten around, considering that their spots hadn't been filled.

"Alright, quiet down if you want to pass the midterm!" Dearing snapped in her sharp voice. A couple students in the back had been whispering. Apparently that was too loud. "Or we could just take the midterm now, if you want. Waste everyone's time and money by flunking all of you four weeks into-"

The door slammed open.

Drew jumped in his seat, despite himself. He'd just started to put his head down on the desk to... ponder the importance of personal finance. He hadn't thought there were any students left to arrive.

And... he still wasn't sure. The woman who burst through the door wasn't anyone Drew had ever seen before. And he was sure he'd have remembered her if he had...

Waist long blonde hair that rippled in waves as she moved interrupted by the occasional white bow... a fit but perky figure that just screamed "I was a cheerleader in high school!"... a white blouse with a pink bowtie and a pink, knee-length skirt that was primarily poof and lace...

And, most striking of all, a beaming, eager, 'glass completely full' type grin painted on the face of a model. She glowed with a palpable can-do attitude and positivity.

Oh yes, Drew would remember this woman.

Specifically because it was his new life goal to never, ever speak with her. The woman might as well have the word "Exhausting!!!" painted on her forehead in pink glitter.

The puffball skipped (skipped!) up to Professor Dearing, her Mary-Jane heels clicking on the tile floor. She stopped just short of the podium, and of all things, did a little salute.

"Charity Waybright, reporting for her first day of class, ma'am!"

Drew leaned forward. Oh, this was going to be good.

Dearing's eyes had already been as hard as coal the moment puffball slammed the door open, but now they were burning like the ninth circle of Hell. The demon in human skin reared her head back to strike. "This is not a _summer camp, _girl. Nor is it the first day of classes! Now get the hell out of my class; I'm not accepting new students!"

"Oh, that's right!" the puffball named Charity peeped. "I had forgotten how late I am for the semester. I can fix that, though." She reached her right hand into her skirt pocket. (It had pockets?)

"You're not fixing anything, you're getting out of my class, right this-"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"I won't have anymore interruptions in my class, Ms. Waybright. Take one of the seats in the back, and don't be late again," Dearing commanded to the wait-list student who had just gotten in after a student quit the class.

"Of course, 'teach!" the puffball chirped back, and began skipping past student after student.

Towards Drew.

He looked at the empty desks next to him.

"Shit."

Before he could do anything, like stab himself in the throat, the puffball flounced into the seat right next to him, stuck out her hand towards him for a handshake, and introduced herself.

"Hi, new Desk Buddy! I'm Charity Waybright! What's your name?"

This was, perhaps, the worst day of Drew's life.

"Uhhh.... Drew Whittle." He regretted it the moment he said it. He was just so shocked at his misfortune that the words just... slipped out. Luckily, he hadn't automatically reached out to return her handshake. Unluckily, she skillfully took it in stride, changing the proffered handshake into a friendly shoulder punch.

"Well, good to meet you, Uhhh Drew! I'm so excited to get to know you!! We're going to be best friends! I can tell!"

"Unlikely." I decided being brief with her might be the best approach in this situation.

Puffball smirked at me, and patted her right pocket. "Oh, I just know it'll work out one way or another..."

.....

Weird....

20 minutes later, things hadn't gotten much better.

"Is class always this boring? I swear, half of the class is asleep!"

"Yeah, and I'd be one of them if you'd stop talking to me already."

Drew had discovered that the silent approach wasn't going to cut it after the first ten minutes of class. Princess Puffball over here had peppered him with question after question after question, ranging from class appropriate to uncomfortably personal. And since Professor Dearing didn't care if students were talking in the two seats in the back right corner, as she hadn't for the whole semester so far, Drew didn't see a way to get the girl to shut up other than being catty.

The Puffball looked at him with a scandalized expression, her hair lightly flipping over her shoulder as she turned. It looked perfectly intentional. "We're having such a wonderful conversation though, Drew!"

Slumped back in his seat, with his head facing the ceiling, Drew rolled his eyes as hard as he could. "I'm pretty sure more than one person has to be talking for it to count as a conversation."

She giggled at that. "That's fair. You just have such an approachable air, though!"

"I very intentionally do not, puffball."

Her eyebrows raised, and he cheeks reddened. "Puffball...?" Her hand touched her stomach.

Drew winced to himself. He hadn't meant to say that. He didn't like the girl, but he'd dealt with his fair share of bullies in high school, and he didn't want to become one himself. "I didn't mean it like that, I swear. I just meant, like, you're very... pink, and preppy, and stuff like that. It's just not really my thing."

The eyebrows narrowed this time, and smiled. "Oh, really? Well then, what is your thing?" Her voice wasn't sarcastic, exactly, but he could hear in it the tone he got from everyone when they asked about what he liked. The expectation for something especially edgy and sad-boy related from this quite kid with dark hair in the corner.

"Cartoons," Drew said instead.

Puffball; no, Charity; drew back slightly at the comment, obviously surprised. Her hand drew back too, from something she had been reaching for in her pocket. Probably a pen or something. "Wait, really?" she asked.

Drew sighed. "Yeah, really. That's why I'm here. To learn how to draw and animate." He unzipped his backpack next to his desk and pulled it open, allowing Charity to see the sketchbooks, pens, pencils, drawing tablet, and styluses inside.

"That's awesome!" Charity squealed. "That's some serious equipment!"

Drew smiled. He was proud of his tools. "Yeah, it took a while to collect it all." He zipped the backpack up again, to make sure nothing happened to them.

"Why cartoons? If it's not rude to ask, of course!"

"It's not rude. I don't know, I just... like cartoons. They make life a little better, you know?" That wasn't very eloquent, but Drew wasn't a very eloquent guy. That was one of the reasons he avoided new people. Dammit, he was supposed to be the grumpy guy who everyone avoided, wasn't he? He was supposed to be drooling on his desk in blissful sleep-oblivion right now! This girl broke through that wall in less than 20 minutes.

Aw, well. He didn't really need the sleep anyway.

Charity put her hands on her desk and smiled at Drew, and for some reason, it felt more authentic than the other smiles she'd given so far. Not that those were fake or anything; some people were just cheerful, not everything was a fake front. It's just that... well, it was a nice smile.

"I like you as you are, Drew. Never change."

Drew blinked. "Uh... okay?"

Charity nodded, satisfied, and turned in her desk to be facing the front of the class again.

Professor Dearing was berating some guy with glasses for not knowing what a 401k was.

"She doesn't seem particularly... pleasant," Charity commented with a frown.

"Oh, no, absolutely not," Drew confirmed. "I'm sorry to inform you that you've made the mistake of joining a class with the 3rd Worst professor in the state, according to Rank My Professor."

She let out an impressed whistle. "That's no joke," she admitted. Then she turned her head and winked at Drew. "I think class is about to get a whole lot better, though..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Unlikely." She smiled giddily at that.

And then reached into her pocket.

~Fin~