We all sat in the lecture hall, Meg constantly fidgeting in her seat with an impressive lineup of pens and pencils in front of her. I glanced towards my laptop and a ripped piece of paper that I asked from one of her notebooks before shrugging.

I wasn't concerned much and the number one reason why was the person who suddenly strolled into the room, calling the attention of every student, "Good morning everybody."

Meg shook my arm in order to turn my focus towards the front nd I resisted the urge to laugh when I watched my own uncle write his name on the whiteboard, "I'm Mr. Levi Kingsley and I'll be in charge of this class for the term."

"Can you believe we have a first-class author as our professor?" she barely contained a squeal, her gaze fixated on the man that I couldn't take seriously as he droned on in front. It was weird, when I was three, he was covered in mud because he spent all afternoon playing with me, my brother, and our cousins but he still danced around in our living room, much to mom's chagrin. When I was seven, he came for the holidays and busted through the door in a Santa Clause costume, complete with the itchy beard and a pillow stuffed under his shirt to imitate a bulging belly. When I was twelve, he stood in the kitchen with us and attempted to make brownies, which ultimately led to all of us spilling flour everywhere.

Those were the little things that eluded the public's attention since he brought up such a serious image. He may be a professor to the university, he may be a best-selling author to the world, but to me, he was still the same Uncle Levi who knows how to be childish and fun while being an excellent mentor.

"So as you expect, you'll be writing throughout this class," he crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes consciously making an effort not to meet mine, "And at the end of the term, you're going to pass a short story made by yourself as your last project. It's worth thirty percent of your grade so I suggest not to submit anything out of dillydallying."

Meg nodded vigorously, jotting it all down on her notebook. I proceeded to open the small draft of the story I was currently writing before I felt a small frown conquer my face. Yes, I might be on track with my book now, but this class will force me to create a new one.

I wonder how I will be able to go through with my classes. Mom did say that it was an opportunity for a change of scenery, but I guess studying was something I was anticipating but was never really prepared myself for.

The gap year I took was enough to put me off out of the concept of staying late at night with a textbook or investing my heart and soul for projects that wouldn't really matter in the grand scheme of things.

I opened my bag and drew out a novel, a silhouette of a man in front of a hazy yellow background was flashed as the cover and at the very below was Uncle Levi's name along with the title #1 New York Times Bestselling Author.

If you do anything without passion, it loses its meaning. Will and the right motivation are the two things that needs to work in order to produce anything near importance. Once you've acquired your initial goal, it's not the moment to stop, but rather, to find a new one.

And, my dear, if your goal is for you to be well-known then prepare for a life wherein you keep chasing for something impossible. There would always be someone who wouldn't recognize you, who would simply pass by your name without a mere sparkle in their eyes. The real goal you should be chasing is satisfaction and with the ideal thought of fame constantly running in your mind, you'll never be happy.

Time flew by quickly and after one last explanation from Uncle Levi, he dismissed the class. We gathered all of our belongings and I was prepared to go back to the dormitory since I had some free time while Meg had another class right after, "I'll see you."

I nodded and waved her goodbye, waiting for the last student to leave the lecture hall. Uncle Levi beckoned for me to go to the front and I did so, leaving my bag on my seat. He placed a sleek new phone on my palm and smiled, "Sorry it took so long."

"At least I have a phone now," I laughed, turning to go back to my seat. Before I could take a single step though, I paused my movements when I saw his book still sitting on my desk, "Uncle Levi, why did you start to write?"

Julia question rang in my head and my reply was still hanging in my mind. However, I was just one in the million others who use perfectly constructed sentences to convey their thoughts. Why does a person write? For others, it was because it was their job. For some it was a simple hobby. But for all, it was because there was a message that they needed to let out.

"Why?" he repeated, now gathering his things, "I started writing because my teacher from high school complimented a story I submitted to her."

"So you did it to be praised?"

"The glory and the fame," he corrected, "But it changed when I realized that if I were to use those two as my drive, every story that I will create would be empty, and you know why?"

I took a deep breath and quoted his own book to him, "The real goal you should be chasing is satisfaction and with the ideal thought of fame constantly running in your mind, you'll never be happy."

Recognizing his own writing, a bright grin flashed on his face, "Correct once again."

"Do you think that you made the right choice by turning writing into a career?" I continued to ask, following him out of the room after snatching my bag and laptop, "Wasn't it better to just treat is as a hobby."

"Not really," he shrugged, "I met my wife because of this and it gave me your two cousins so I guess it was the best choice."

A man found love through writing while I was doing my best to get rid of it through the same medium.

"Got it," I muttered, stopping right before we turned the corner, "I'll see you next class, Mr. Kingsley."

He shook his head with a small smile, continuing his walk towards the next hallway while I made my way towards the exit. Before I could reach far, somebody tapped me on the shoulder, causing me to jump up in shock. I spun around quickly to meet Adam's towering figure and I released a sigh of relief.

"Don't do that!" I groaned, taking a step back, "Headed for class?"

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly, "And mine just finished, I'm about to go out and grab some breakfast, care to join me?"

Although I had breakfast, it was unfinished and I barely touched half of it so I was still fairly hungry. My next class didn't start for another hour and a half plus, I kind of enjoy his company. I agreed to his offer and we found ourselves at the same small restaurant Uncle Levi took me on my first day here.

We sat on the table where the couple that we created a fake backstory of once occupied. And just like them, we were met with silence and the only difference, it wasn't comfortable nor was it awkward. I couldn't place it, I wanted to speak in order to fill the air between us but I found no topic. We already talked about our first classes on the way here and after we've bantered about which food we were going to order, we had nothing else to say.

But I wasn't totally fidgeting in my seat.

"Somebody from my class invited me to this party they're having for the start of term," he mentioned when I was wracking my brain up for a subject, "I was wondering if you want to go?"

Finally!

"I would love to," I accepted graciously. I haven't been to a real party in quite a while and I realized that I was so detached from everybody else since most of my friends went on their way to different colleges. During the rare times that we were all gathered at the same city, we opted to have a quiet movie night or something instead of a rowdy music-filled, lousy excuse to have sex, kind of evening.

Don't get me wrong, I loved hanging out with them in any form, but I longed to have the same kind of craziness I experienced back when I was in high school.

Those moments when you would scream at the top of your lungs because the music was playing too loud, people were mingling even with those they have never talked to, and at the end, you had to sneak into home because you knew your parents were going to be livid once they found out.

"Great, I'll pick you up at eight," he told me, sipping his coffee.

My eyes lit up before I started digging through my bag and taking out my new phone from it, "I finally got one so I can give you my number. That removes the trek towards my dorm and the commotion the girls are likely to make."

"Not going to ask for mine?" he chuckled when he gave me his device.

I glanced up from tapping on his screen and shook my head, "You gave it to me already, remember?"

The scribbled number on a torn-up piece of cardboard was safely tucked inside my drawer, just waiting for it to be punched in.

He flashed me a wider grin, thankful that I didn't forget about it. We finished the rest of the meal in silence, only this time, it was more enjoyable. He insisted that he pay for my meal but I was adamant on paying for it on my own. He didn't fight with me on this one and we went onto different paths, with me heading towards my second class of the day.

Apparently, many were going to the same party because when I came back to the dorm after a long day, Julia jumped up and invited me to go. When I told her I already said to Adam that I was going with him, it was the worst decision I've made for the past twenty-four hours.

Just saying, I don't raise my standards that high because I make horrible decisions on a daily basis.

"You have a date," she hopped off of her bed and went to my side, opening my closet and quickly digging through my clothes.

"How many times do I have to say that he and I are just friends?" I groaned before lifting a brow at her antics, "And what are you doing?"

"You're just friends for now," she pointed out, grabbing a black dress, "Try this on."

"No," I huffed, taking a dress from her grasp and putting it back on the hanger, "And I don't want to look like the overexcited freshman that got invited to her first uni party."

"Then throw on a denim jacket and call it casual," she shrugged, sitting on my bed, "But I'm calling it a date."

Rolling my eyes, I closed my closet and shook my head, "It's not."

"Watch as he goes on and picks you up with flowers or something to impress you and then even if his friends call him, he would choose to stay with you," she smirked, "And then if he's really trying hard, he'll ask you to escape the party and go to a twenty-four hour food place to have your alone time together."

Sheesh, I thought I was the one who made up the stories between us.

"Very funny," I muttered sarcastically, "And it's not a date because he's completely in love with somebody else."

A tall and blonde superstar that nobody can compete with.

"If you say so," she sang as she stood up and grabbed my arm, "Let's get supper before you say some other excuse."

The week rolled around fairly quickly since most of the classes were filled with introductions. Friday came around and even though I initially refused, I went with the dress Julia suggested and paired it with a denim jacket. I waited for Adam's text that he was on his way so I could start walking so we could meet halfway.

Imagine my surprise when Julia came bounding in with a large smirk on her face, "Told you so."

"What?" I asked and she gestured for me to follow her. I took my purse and did so, trying to catch up with her fast pace as we bounded down the stairs. I was taken aback when I saw Adam standing there at the entrance with a single flower decently wrapped in paper and plastic.

Watch as he goes on and picks you up with flowers or something to impress you.

Turning to my side, I raised my brows at the sight of Julia's victorious expression. She pinched my arm before going back upstairs, her footsteps loud and heavy.

"Passed by the market earlier and saw this," he said when he saw me approaching, "Thought that you might like it."

Alright, so it was not something to impress me or anything, it was just a flower he saw while doing grocery shopping. Julia was wrong and I need to stop my stupid brain from producing any ideas before I fall into this pit with no way of getting out.

"Thank you," I smiled gratefully, "Shall we go now?"

This was not a date, Adam was not interested in me, and there was no freaking way that Julia was right.

Right?

-----------------------------

You know, Radish is turning into a royal pain in the ass. Many authors are also starting to become so unsatisfied with their service and this is somebody coming from Wattpad, a place where I've also felt annoyed as an author.

But nonetheless, the readers make up for it. I think one of the reason why I'm no unmotivated to write there is because readers are not allowed to comment. Here, they can, so for the love of all things good, please leave a comment so I know I'm still doing something right. 

Sienna, by far, is the least interesting character I have ever written. She isn't spunky, she doesn't ooze authority, she isn't much of a worrywart, and she's quite levelheaded. But that's the reason why I'm so endeared to her, it's because she's average and still finding her place around. As a writer, I try to put some pieces of myself into each of my main characters. But Sienna? She's my personality through and through. Her temperament and the way she feels about her writing is like mine and that's why, I hope you will like her.