"Please, come back to me."
"I never left."
***
Clara Carter, the troublemaker of Aerilon University. Someone who can make you fall for her looks and at the same time can make you reg...
10 minutes and this half-zombie half-squeaking witch of a Kate Ovando is dead by my very cold hands.
"We should have ditched." I whisper in Ray's ear.
Ray's delicate, smiling face captures my interest. She has undergone significant changes. I'm not referring to her personality, as that's impossible, but rather to the way she dresses. She used to dress up like a runway model at first. She now has the appearance of a mature lady in a bun.
On rare occasions, she acknowledges the gibberish Kate is spitting. She makes a disinterested hum.
"I insist you make a note of these points for future reference." Kate instructs in a squeaky voice, pointing her ten-meter-long sharp-nailed finger at the class's poor, idiots.
Exaggeration is the by-product of my annoyance.
"That's it, I'm leaving." I shoot up my hands and take my backpack, which is lying on the desk behind me, without a care in the world. She has tested enough of my patience.
"Oh my God, Clara! Get your ass back on the seat."
Ray pulls on my wrist hard enough for me to thud into the seat, and all the unwanted items in my backpack lazily rain on the table and down. Before all of the students' eyes are on me, pens, papers, and an open gum packet flip flop on the floor.
Please remind me of the reason I should spare Ray after this.
I glare at them with my head slightly angled downwards, as if the entire class is my suspect. My gaze follows each pair of perplexed and amused eyes in the room. When I come across a fuming Kate, my head jerks up.
"Isn't it your hobby to interrupt my class, Ms. Carter?"
I feel like I'm being held at gunpoint and everyone is waiting for me to snap.
"I was just--"
Everybody, including myself, jumps on the spot when the door to our class makes an insanely loud bang against the wall. That sound almost gave me a heart attack.
Who in the fucking hell does that?!
Everyone's head turns one-eighty towards the door.
"Stefan," Kate sings songs while cat-walking a few steps towards him. "What are you doing here?"
Stefan's cold eyes scan the area for that one bastard girl who fled like a tornado with his T-shirt just as he was about to kiss her.
That sounds like me.
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips the moment his piercing eyes settle on mine.
"I would like to have a chat with Ms. Carter."
They all turn toward me again, as if their heads only know these two directions.
"Now what did you do?" Kate asks, folding her arms around her chest.
"Nothing," my mouth responds quickly and involuntarily.
If they're not talking about sleeping with the head boy, then I have done absolutely nothing.
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I'd have to do something after being repeatedly refused for asking Stefan about the call and only getting filled in with the caller's identity as 'old best friend.' So I did what my insane mind came up with: I took his shirt and ran away.
Did he come out of the room half-naked yesterday?
I can't believe I let the gossip girls outside the music room have that heavenly view. Shit!
Pacing with anticipation, I scan in every direction possible for Stefan now that I've arrived at the parking lot as he demanded.
A horn blast snaps my neck behind. There he is.
He takes his hand off the steering wheel's horn and folds it over his chest to lean against the car.
I hold back my happiness at seeing him in a white hoodie, so cute and sweet. Nonetheless, I'm going to be rough on him today, no pun intended. I have had enough of his nonsense.
Let me show to this smirky that I don't give a damn about his personal life.
I repeat the words to myself as I walk closer to him, kicking small stones along the route.
"What was so urgent?" I ask casually, putting on a 'I'm damn busy, so be quick' face and looking everywhere but at him.
"I'd like to get my shirt back."
To stop the chuckle, I cover my lips with my palm.
"Sorry, I don't have it." Lie.
The T-shirt is royally lying in my closet alongside the rest of my clothes. No one would guess it's a boy tee considering half of my clothes are similar.
His deep gaze narrows on my face in disbelief. "Forget it," he says, running his hand through his hair.
Thank god he didn't ask me to fly to my house and bring him the T-shirt. I intend to wear it at some point.
We remain in pin-drop silence for a few seconds, which mystifies me. He didn't invite me to come here for a T-shirt. He has something else he wants to say. I can tell by his expression how much he is hesitating.
He flashes his charming smile, as if he's about to say the words. And it was bad idea to get sight of it. Soon after, the tough façade I'm displaying crumbles.
I get on my alert mode as a result of his searing gaze over my body as he checks me out But I suppress that.
Clean shaved, wind-messed hair and sparkling eyes. It's quite difficult for me to stick to my plan and not kiss him.
"How is it that you get a bit hotter every day?"
That's what burst the flush I was trying to hide. His voice is so calm that it nearly sounds like he's articulating a universal truth.
Even so, this isn't what he wants to say. I'm sure of it.
"I like compliments," I say as I adjust my backpack over my shoulder. This isn't how I had hoped it would turn out. I assumed we'd have the same discussion about that foolish call.
But then, who am I to him? Why should he confide in me about all his secrets and issues in life? It's not my responsibility to be there for him. I'm the one who's rushing things. I need to take it slow and easy for both of us.
He grins and shakes his head before pointing to his car's passenger seat.
"Are we going somewhere?" I ask, drawing my eyebrows together.
"Yes, on a date."
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