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"Don't waste my time say what you want or I will leave," Charlie Swift, a nineteen years old college student with a daunting personality, long fringe eclipsing his grey eyes, stood in the middle of an empty basketball court wearing his uniform and the basketball in his hands.

"Ah! Umm... I-I wanted to tell you that..." Elisa, a timid girl, barely able to speak a word stood before him.

Charlie rolled his eyes and started walking away.

"Wait! I-I..." Elisa stopped again.

"I said I don't have time..."

"I love you!" Elisa shouted.

Charlie stared at her blankly for a few seconds and then walked close. Elisa was too nervous to lift her head.

"I—Love—Myself too," he said and started walking away.

"B-But! I love you a lot. I want to be your girlfriend." Elisa said gathering all possible courage she could.

"I love myself too, but that doesn't oblige me to date you. Don't waste your time. You are not my type. Don't show me your face again. You are irritatingly irritating." Charlie threw the ball in the air,

Elisa flinched, and the ball straight away went into the basket.

She stood there crying bitterly as Charlie picked up the ball and side passed her.

"Cry all you want and then go find someone who will love you better. I didn't want to hurt you, but I don't want to give you false hope too. Nothing is lacking in you, nothing is wrong with you, it's just that you ain't my type," he said and left.

Charlie's gang waited for him outside the basketball court.

"What happened?" Henry, the same age as Charlie, the tallest on the ground with pitch-black eyes and bleached hair asked.

"What was she saying?" Jacob, the boy with the most brain and logic in the group asked.

"Why is she crying?" Daniel, the most illogical and aggressive of the group asked.

"Nothing. She confessed, I rejected, she irritated me, I made her cry. That's all. Let's go," Charlie said and all four of them left for the locker and changing room of the college.

The sound of the shower, fog of foam and the smell of maturing men engulfed the boys changing room. The four most handsome boys of the college were taking a bath with no eyes to adore them?

Rubbish!

Eyes through the binoculars and telescopes invaded the boys' privacy from the girls' changing room. All the girls were crazy about the four bad boys, who were the boys who didn't care at all.

Every time a girl approached any of them, her confession was smashed like a boiled potato.

Potato? Yes, a potato! Well, that reminds me of a new entry in college. A boy.

No! Not a bad boy, but just a boy who is a...

Potato!

Well, that's what he calls himself. A bit sluggish, absolutely useless potato, well that is what he says. Ok.