Hilda
1105 Words
I take out my old, techno camom 11 which I have never bothered to get a prettier phone case for and plug in the earphones. Since no one is going to be talking to me today, I will find my solace within my short playlist.
I am lost in the lull of the music when short, painted nails tap my shoulder. I am startled enough to drop my phone. I reach for it but a thick hand with smooth, loose muscles picks it before I do.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you!" Apologizes a plump girl in a blue dresses and glasses. "Your phone looks okay, thank God." She says dusting off the phone with her hand before handing it to me.
"Don't worry about it, it's old enough to start breaking on it's own." I say trying to be sweet. "I am Sarah Williams, it's my first day." The girl's smile is so wide and her teeth are a dazzling, deep shade of white.
"Hilda!" She says shaking my hand. "I am also new here, but I got admitted last week."
She seems like a sweet person, someone I can handle. Should I ask her to be my friend? How desperate will it sound? Maybe I can go round and round until she gets the hint.
"Made any friends yet?" I ask.
"Just one." She answers, the smile falls of her full lips. "But she is doing medicine and I think she doesn't like me. Guess I am not pretty enough to be her friend."
"Doesn't sound like she is a sweet person. You look stunning to me!" I say. She may be a little overweight, but her body still retains an impressive feminine shape. Besides, who said friends need to look good?
"It has been a while since someone complement my fatness, thank you! Can I sit with you?" She says with a benign smile. I like her already.
"Your fatness has great curves, have a seat and tell me all you know about the Mr. Money bags I hear is coming to lecture us about success." I say patting the seat beside mine. Her face lights up, don't know if it's because I welcomed her to sit or she is eager to say what she knows about the Billionaire.
"Honey, there are no words currently in the dictionary that can be used to describe Billionaire Richmond Herbert without underrating him." She starts while lowering herself to the seat. "Are you saying you don't know him?" She asks with gaping mouth.
"No, why are you so surprised?"
"Because the man is a walking perfection! Forget about him being filthy rich, he has the looks of an angel, and I mean a drop-dead-hunk kind of an angel." She gushes.
She expects me to believe that? I am not a fun of maths but I know money plus luxury equals overweight. Besides, billionaires are old people, with all due respect, can you explain how grey hair and wrinkles are perfection? Please forgive my bluntness, there will be a time I too will have the wrinkles if I live that long, it's part of life.
If my new friend thinks that look can leave anyone dumbfounded, I will pretend to think so too, make her feel like she has the right audience.
"You know none of us has seen an angel, so give me a Hollywood example, who would equal his hotness; Van Diesel, Henry Cavill or Wentworth Miller?" I ask just to convince her I am interested. I obviously doesn't think a billionaire can have those looks. I should have added Morgan Freeman to the list.
"He should be a little hotter than Henry Cavill. The one without moustache of course." She answers.
Someone join me so we can give that joke the laugh of a lifetime.
"So he is like Wentworth Miller?!" I ask.
"No, he got Henry Cavill's hair and muscles, so he is in none of your categories. He is an icon of perfection that even Hollywood can't afford." She answers.
A billionaire that is hotter than Hollywood's hottest, girl you must be kidding! Anyway, let's be friends.
"Can't wait to see that." I say forging a smile.
"I too can't wait to see him in real life, thank God we business students are getting the first priority when it comes to who sits where." She says and high fives me.
"Is that why everyone looks like there is a dance in heaven?" I ask.
"Yes. Wish I had the body to flaut but I am all puffy like a balloon. I don't hope to catch his eye, but I would appreciate even the briefest glance." She answers.
Poor Hilda got a crush! I said poor because she set her goals too high. A billionaire?!
Someone that looks like a professor walks in and the class goes silent. The man is in his sixties and looks stoic. He doesn't even bother with greetings before embarking on the lecture itself.
"Don't be surprised, that's how Mr. Allen is, he got an interesting personality." Hilda says in heavy sarcasm.
"Yeah, but I am certain he is a lot compelling than what we will have in the hall." I hear my mouth say. Hilda's brows shoot up. Oops!
"Kidding!" I say "I am sure your hottie will be fascinating."
"Oh, he will be beyond that." She matters.
Mr. Allen's lecture lasts for only forty five minutes before the deputy vice chancellor shows up and orders everyone to follow him to the main hall.
"About time!" Hilda says excitedly.
I haven't seen the arrival of the billionaire despite being next to a window, so I guess we are going there ahead of time to wait for him. If I would be honoured in such a manner for a single day, I would appeal to the authorities concerned so I can relive the moment over and over again.
I only take my phone with me as I follow the students that make a dash for the hall. Hilda practically drags me by the hand as she fights to get ahead of everyone. Thank God her body doesn't allow her to be fast or we would be the first in the line.
There are security guards at each door, they search each and everyone before letting them in. It's the longest process I have ever gone through for nothing better than a speech.
Hilda isn't happy when we miss seats on the first line, she pouts a little before I point out that we will have the same view of the stage since it is raised.
- Writer
