The blonde stared at him, dark brows pulled together. Her scrutiny, a milkshake of varied sentiments, fluttered back and forth between him and her before her glare settled on the girl who had hijacked his taxi, the dip between her brows excavating.

A shove from behind, "Zack." The jostle, coupled with icy touch of her fingers through his thin shirt, knocked him from his open-eyed slumber.

The blonde stared hard at the girl. "Him?" Her voice crescendo-ed.

"Zoe!" A muffled shout from behind the corridors. The blonde turned, her high ponytail a sleek swerve in the air. The blonder hollered back: "104 ready?"

"All good."

The blonde turned back, her unnerving gaze veering back at him. "Walk straight, turn left at the end of the corridor."

Another thrust from behind. He turned to look at the assaulter a head shorter than him behind, slightly speechless. Her brown hair parted, a dainty chin pointing forward, in the direction of the hallway. "Go first."

His gaze slid from the blonde ponytail girl to the brunette taxi-hijacker, and back, before, again, landing on the brunette.

His bleary gaze training on the pair of amber-speckled iris, he saw swirling coffee in her eyes; he needed some coffee right now.

He tried blinking away his roaring lethargy, and his shoes scuffled forward.

It was still early—he had time.

×

last edited: 16.04.18