The public announcement system screeched, and instinctively, everyone in the airport terminal cast their gaze toward the speakers mounted in the corners of the walls.
"Attention all passengers on Flight AX372 to Paris. Please proceed to Gate 03 immediately for boarding. The flight is getting ready for departure. All remaining passengers should be at the gate now. Thank you."
The broadcast ended with a crack and hiss.
Marle Dickson nuzzled into the red scarf tied around his neck. He noticed his classmates already gathered at the gate, preparing to board the plane. He looked towards the opposite direction, uninterested, and remained seated. Marle clapped his hands together, rubbed them, then placed both palms against his cheeks for warmth. The AC wasn't doing him any favors.
People entered college with different goals. Some wanted to get high grades to land well-paying jobs. Others came to pursue sports, aiming to get scouted by first division teams. And then there were those who just wanted to take life as it came — party hard, make friends, and enjoy the ride.
Marle didn't fall into any of those categories. It had been over six months since he started college, and he had nothing to show for it. No academic breakthroughs. No social life. No athletic progress. To him, college wasn't some grand new chapter in life — it was just another routine: waking up at 5 a.m., making it to school by 9.
"Bro! You still sitting there when they're about to leave?" a male voice called from behind him. "I was waiting for you, you know?"
Marle turned to see Dante.
He didn't have a lot of friends, but Dante was the exception — a friend worth more than most. He had oily dark skin and medium-length dreadlocks, trimmed at the sides into a low fade. His big, round lips had earned him the nickname "Lip" in their class.
Marle and Dante walked over to where their classmates — more than twenty, though fewer than thirty were gathered. Two teachers stood among them: Mr. Mark, their P.E. instructor and football coach, and Mrs. Patricia, the history teacher.
"Hey, got you this." Dante handed Marle a canned fruit juice.
"Thanks," Marle said, looking at it but not opening it. He just held it in his hands.
Dante popped open his own can and chugged half of it before letting out a sigh. "Waiting sure gets one thirsty," he said, then continued drinking.
Marle didn't care about anything else. He just wanted to leave the airport before the cold killed him. His hands were pale and stiff, looking almost bloodless. He regretted not bringing gloves — who would've thought the airport would be this cold?
"You're not drinking that?" Dante asked, noticing Marle still holding the can.
"I'm saving it for the trip," Marle replied.
"And you're sure they'll let you take that on the plane?"
"What? They won't?"
"I don't know, man."
Marle sighed, opened the can, and took a sip. It was cold, but he didn't mind. He paused, catching the twitch at the corner of Dante's mouth. He immediately knew he'd been set up.
"Motherfucker," he muttered, then kept drinking.
"I'm real with you, man. I don't know. I'm just speaking from experience," Dante said with a shrug.
"Experience, huh?" Marle sipped again. "Like you've ever flown before."
"Believe it or not, I've been in a plane."
"Yeah, sure. Why not?"
Marle casually scanned the crowdz his eyes locked on a girl. Light skin, thick eyebrows, sharp eyes, and naturally long lashes. He froze. His hand hovered with the juice a few inches from his mouth. Only his eyes blinked.
"The way you look at Denise, you might as well jump inside her."
Marle jolted, spilling juice onto his red scarf. "Shit!" he cursed and quickly drank more.
"You know," Dante said with a smirk, "you are a son of a bitch."
Marle gave him a hollow stare.
"No offense, but that's what you are. I mean, you literally grew up next to this girl and still haven't made a move since kindergarten?" Dante scoffed and kissed his now-empty juice can.
To Marle, Denise wasn't just another classmate. She stood at the top of the social food chain — a natural-born leader. The way she spoke, moved, and treated people made others gravitate toward her. Marle didn't think someone like him, someone with barely any presence, could ever keep up.
It had always been that way. Since elementary school, Denise had attracted people effortlessly. Meanwhile, Marle had always been on the sidelines.
"I told you before, it won't work out. Me and her," Marle whispered.
"And how sure are you?" Dante asked.
"I just know it."
"Then you know nothing, man."
The two boys fell silent, their gaze still fixed on Denise. She was talking with two other girls, but her words felt hollow — like she was only speaking because she had to.