Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater, but I do own the OC.

Prompt #15: Cool - She hated that word, hated the line it drew between him and her.

Words: 644

Maka propped her chin on her hand and stared across the back quad, looking for her white-haired roommate. People were clustered in small groups or pairs all over the quad, some in the shade offered by solitary trees or awning by the cafeteria doorway, others stretching out on the grass to soak up the sun between classes.

A headful of snow-white hair caught her attention. She was about to wave and call his name when another person appeared at his side. Maka's stomach burned with acid as she glared daggers at the ponytailed girl. Samara Jones was a beautiful, talented young woman from New York City who had just moved to Nevada. Pretty and smart, she didn't have a single malicious bone in her body, but Maka couldn't help hating her.

Because, in a rare show of interest, Soul had offered to show her around school. Soon Samara was hanging out with Maka and Soul, talking about jazz with him and comparing notes with her. Soul was slowly beginning to spend more time with Samara outside of class, and more recently they'd been heading out to the local jazz club.

It also didn't help that this new girl had a pair of knockers that rivaled even Blair's chest.

Swallowing the hurt and anger bubbling up in her throat, Maka tore her eyes away from the pair and focused on studying for her next test. She didn't have time to think about pointless stuff. Her grades were the most important thing at the moment -

"Hey. Didn't you hear us calling you?" Soul's deep voice broke through her thoughts. She looked up from her book to see her roommate standing at the table, red eyes staring intently at her face.

"Sorry, I didn't," Maka said, half-apologetic. "Hey Samara."

"Hi Maka. You busy?" Samara asked, smiling brightly. "Soul was just suggesting that we go out to that new bistro on Twelfth after school. Wanna come with?"

"I - " She was about to say yes when she noticed the look in Samara's eyes. The look of pleading hope. "Actually, no. Sorry, I've gotta pick up a shift for work this afternoon. You guys go ahead."

"Okay!" Samara said, instantly latching onto Soul's arm. Her boobs squashed against his side as she flashed Maka a grateful smile. "We'll bring you something nice from the bistro, I promise! C'mon Soul!" she said when he started to speak. "It's almost time for Chemistry!"

Maka watched them head back the way they came. She wasn't the only one; many guys actually paused whatever they were doing and turned to watch Samara as she passed.

One finger hooked into the collar of her blouse and tugged it slightly, and her eyes dropped of their own accord to survey her chest. Even though her chest size was definitely smaller than her girlfriends', she was usually content with the fact that she had great legs and a terrific ass (a fact confirmed by the number of guys who ogled her rear whenever she walked past them in the hallways). Usually that was enough to give her hope in her attractiveness.

But Soul had to be different. He had to be cool. Being cool meant everything to him. Cool guys do this... Cool guys don't do that... Every assurance of his behavior had that stupid word in it. He lived his life by what he thought cool guys ought to do.

And cool guys didn't go for violent, flat-chested chicks like her. He'd said it time and again.

So why bother going up against a pretty nice full-figured girl? No sense at all. Maka knew a losing battle when she saw it.

Her eyes dropped to her textbook and started to read.

Another RST-universe fic. Apathetic!Maka just happened.

Review please!