Stalker Confirmed

The next morning, he (Flute Boy, sadly not Thai Guy) was standing outside the practice rooms like a devoted golden retriever. I looked oddly at him and continued walking. He followed until I turned around.
“Hi, Brian,” I said coolly.
“Hey, Trixie,” he responded enthusiastically.
“Can I help you?”
“Nah, I just don’t have anything to do,” he admitted, looking at me hopefully.
Well, if he was looking for a response to his inept and poorly disguised flirting, he certainly wasn’t going to get it. Multiple times, I merely nodded or said, “hm.” Any halfway intelligent boy would get the hint—and you would hope this boy was smart, otherwise there was no redeeming quality for his ugliness.
He continued following me around, step for step, until I (finally!) got to go to my first class of the day. I politely excused myself and grimaced as I headed down the stairs.
I hope he’s not as annoying as that all week, I thought.
But things were about to get worse.

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