Chapter 7: Antifan

They say to keep your friends close, but your foes closer.

Since it’s difficult to distinguish her enigmatic thesis partner, Anna thought to keep him very close, regardless of what he’ll turn out to be.

Thus, they spend the next few days together, working on the thesis. She did not know if she could call it quality time, since there were barely any words unrelated to the thesis that were uttered to each other, but nevertheless, they spent long hours of the day in each other’s company. That was good enough.

Anna used it to study their research topic, which was duly approved by their professor, even giving them a compliment that said: ‘Interesting. I am looking forward to the outcome of your study.’ Which is no pressure at all.

“I have bad news.”

Max came in one day, his laptop in his arms and his hair a little bit messier than yesterday. His expression was not so good. He sat in front of Anna with a frown.

“Our respondents canceled.”

And he had all the right to be problematic. That was a fatal problem.

Without respondents, their study cannot achieve results. And the deadline is in a few weeks. It’s an overhanging shadow, a reminder that they might not have enough time.

Anna rashly strokes her hair, leaning back on the chair.

—

For the rest of the day, their problem remained unsolved.

For Anna, who found pride in her academic brilliance, this was frustrating. She continued to think of new possible respondents but would always hit a wall. Professionals are always great to have as respondents, but their study was not keen on only sourcing professional advice. It was a study about the mental toll that detached memorizing does to a person. The respondents should be authentic and should have a lot of expected memorizing to do.

“Shouldn’t that be easy, then? Just pick someone you see in the hallways. We’re all memorizing stuff,” said Rica after she explained their problem.

Anna shakes her head. “Yes, we were planning on choosing students but there are degrees to the amount of stuff we have to memorize. Medical students, for example, have more stuff to memorize than liberal arts students, because medical terms and procedures are fixed, unlike the expression of the arts. But we already have people for that. What we lost were respondents specifically for the hardest load. They were medical students and they had an unexpected emergency at the hospital.”

“Wow, that was probably the longest you’ve spoken this year. As always, it’s about school,” she comments, completely unrelated. Anna rolls her eyes.

“But, you ever considered, um… law school students?” She says a minute later. “I don’t know… like… Yezekael Ferrer and his group?”

If Anna could go any quieter, she would’ve. Her mission objectives replayed in her mind, something she had forgotten after days of focusing on their thesis. Right. She has a mission. She had forgotten to check on him, but she did have his schedule and routine memorized. But is she ready to further blur the line between her work and personal life?

Is she ready to use her mission as a respondent?

In the end, all she said to Rica was, “I’ll think about it.”

Sure, law school is on par with med school in terms of academic load. They can almost gather equally solid data as they would with med students. And she knew their schedule would match the data-gathering period. There would be no problems, unless, of course, the respondents themselves refuse to have their brains analyzed and researched, but the chances are low.

The next day, Anna and Max did not meet. Max excused himself a few days before, saying he had another matter for today. It was the perfect day for Anna to return to her mission and check on Yezekael. So off she went, back to the gates of NYU Law School, knowing he’d be studying somewhere on campus.

She went to the cafeteria where she saw him last but found no sign of him or his group. She was creeping behind the bushes when a deliriously aromatic scent clogged her nose, making her involuntarily close her eyes to savor the smell. She’d never smelled anything like that before. It was a mix of so many fragrances that it turned into this unique scent.

What is this?

But her eyes fluttered open as she heard the faintest sound of a snapped twig behind. Anna twists her feet and straightens her back, her guard up.

“Looking for me?”

Anna meets a pair of deep-set blue opal eyes with that same cheeky smirk she saw in his picture. His face was different up close. His aura too. His presence was a lot more demanding, more authoritative, more distinct. He was confident too, with his hands in his pockets, despite her being an imminent threat—no, actually, she’s not. Currently, she recalls she’s here as just another college student, not an agent.

“I caught you last time, but you left too early. Good thing you returned,” he continues, his eyes sparkling with mischief… or amusement? She could not tell. The dip in his cheeks was also visible as he smirked, and she was so utterly taken with it, briefly getting distracted.

His gaze was magnetic; disorienting her. Anna blinked multiple times.

“I… How did you know?”

“I just do.” He shrugs, then asks, “Why are you looking for me? Are you a fan? A stalker?” His eyes eventually narrowed.

“Absolutely not.” Her face crumpled like a paper and her initial surprise was brushed off. “I’m here to… consult you if you’re interested in becoming the respondent for our thesis. You and your friends,” she says, subtly taking a step back to create some distance between them. Perhaps another factor in her shellshock surprise was their close proximity. Right. Yes.

Keep fooling yourself, Anna. It’s definitely not because you’re attracted to him.

“Respondents?” His brow twitched in curiosity. “Do elaborate, miss.”

“It’s Anna,” she introduced him and then smoothly explained their statement problem. As a law student, he should be smart enough to understand the basics of research, right? And if he was as smart as her, he’d also know she had an ocean of possible respondents in the university. That she must have an ulterior motive in choosing him.

“May I know the possible questions you’ll be asking me?” he asks, his hands in his pockets, as he naturally starts to walk. She also wordlessly walks with him and they continue talking while ambling around the building.

She shrugs. “They’re nothing too deep. But I might ask about your character and everything else that anything has a factor in your memorization skills.”

“And why, out of NYU’s over 7,000 students, have you chosen me?” he asked so smoothly and casually that she almost slipped. Every moment with him, she was fumbling and all over the place.

Her brain lags for a millisecond, utterly caught off-guard, making Yezekael’s smirk return.

“It was my friend’s idea,” she blurts. “She’s a fan. I think.”

“Your friend?” She nods. “How about you?”

“What?”

“Are you not a fan?”

“…No.” His head tilts in amusement. There was no sign of the gloomy Yezekael she last saw. “What are you then? An anti-fan?”

Anna meets his eyes. Anything to avoid suspicion. “You can say that. Though I don’t personally hate you, nor have anything against you.”

“Hmm..” he nods. “I guess I’ll have to do better to make you a fan.”

“No need. I have no interest in such things.”

His smirk only widened after hearing her nonchalant response.

Anna stopped in her tracks when she realized they’d spent too much time together. It was already past 4 pm and she still had work to do.

“So, what will it be?” She impatiently asked. Yezekael Ferrer had a character she expected but could never have prepared for. He looked and talked and smiled like a fuckboy, alright.

“Sure thing,” he says, his eyes sparkling with interest as they look at her. She avoided the intense gaze by abruptly turning around to leave. But he caught up to her. “Hey, I think we need to keep in contact.”

Anna looked down at the phone he offered.

Slowly, she took it and put in her civilian number. Only Rica and some of her classmates had her number. She wrote only her first name as the contact before returning it.

“Anna…” Her name rolled on his tongue smoothly, his eyes already on her when she raised her head. “You can call me Kael—only my loved ones and my anti-fans can call me that.”

Her eyes squinted at his blinding smirk, ignoring her heart hammering thunderously loud within her.