Student Secret

Chapter 13 : School Girl Crush

You cried quietly into the shoulder of Carol, who admittedly might not be your top choice in a comforting friend. She is great at joking and making you laugh in the tough time, but you felt as if you needed someone to just...kiss it out of you. Or ease your aching with a sympathetic ear. However, with your current uncertainty in regards to Wanda's stance on the situation and your fear that if you seek remedy in Maria, she might end up quite literally...in you, you've found yourself in the arms of Carol 'blondie' Danvers.

After your outburst of irrational tears had subsided, Carol questioned you subtly about spending the night at Maria's.
"Did she tell you much?"
Carol laughed as she fired messages into the groupchat, all of you planning a weekend outing due to your 'breakup' in her words.
"Tell me much? All she told me was that you'd rejected her. Next thing I know, you're at her place with war wounds on your neck."
"Haha Carol. Hilarious."
"I know, right. Well, you know as well as me how out of touch Maria is with her emotions. So to answer your question, no - she didn't tell me much."
You grinned a little at her secrecy - you thought it was sweet.
"Well, if she's not gonna talk - nor am I."
Carol frowned at you, shoving her things in jovial-anger into her tote bag.
"I'll find out one way or another. I am happy for Maria though."

As you walked Carol to the landing, conversation continued.
"Why's that?"
"Oh, c'mon Y/L/N. She's made it so obvious how into you she is. Plus, you're like super physical and touchy - so it's kinda hard for people not to end up attracted to you."
Carol leant in for a hug before fishing her earphones from her pocket.
"Are you saying you're attracted to me, blondie?" you joke.
She merely shrugged and walked the other way, shortly disappearing round the corner on her journey home.

You made your way back to your flat, locking the door for the night and undoing your bra from beneath your shirt, disregarding it to the floor. You laid on top of your ruffled sheets, your lonesomeness now giving leeway to thoughts of Natasha - or more appropriately, Miss Romanoff. Most were upsetting, or reminisces but some were of a...different nature.

You slipped your hand into your trouser pocket, fishing for the now crumpled piece of off-white paper that had Miss Romanoff's number scrawled upon it's surface. You toyed with it for a moment, passing it between your fingers. You placed it down on your bedside table, beneath the corner of a glass of water to ensure it kept it's place.

You stared at the ceiling, thinking about her. Sultry and unchaste thoughts dirtied your mind as you drifted into the taste of her sweet skin. Your hands travelled the length of your stomach, becoming bare as you hitched your shirt, slowly and painfully closing the space between the hem of your trousers and the skin of your groin.
The tips of your fingers slid lower, a groan sept past your lips as you wished it were hers instead. You twisted the waistband of your underwear, contemplating wether you should do this or not. You just can't get her out of your head.

You pull your hands from their position, sighing and lifting your phone with one hand and the torn paper with another. One text wouldn't hurt. Just one message. What would you say? Hey? Hello? Good evening, professor?

Don't be fucking stupid, you said aloud, throwing your phone down and stripping into nothing before slipping into a baggy night shirt and clocking out.

The following days and classes were hardly enjoyable. To be perfectly honest, the only thing keeping you sane enough to go to class was a well-deserved night out with your friends at the weekend. You barely paid attention to the content of the lectures these past lessons, twiddling your pen or staring out the window. You were practically imploding in your seat being so close, yet so far from Miss Romanoff. You avoided any risk that would put you in a position to catch her eye. In some odd sense, you were afraid of her. Yet, she left you be - not scolding you for your lack of attention, or your indifference to her. Some perverse aspect of your psyche might've actually preferred if she had. However, she was granting you what you'd wished for - so how could you protest.

Finally, Saturday night had rolled round. Wanda and Carol had stopped by your flat before walking to Maria's, as they'd helped you pick a dress and perfume. Your friends, bar Maria, were somewhat determined for you to hook up with someone else this weekend. Actually, only Carol was truly determined - Wanda was a little quiet with regards to the whole subject. Though, she wasn't half as straight forward as Maria, who'd gripped your inner thigh just that bit harder beneath the blanket when the subject had arisen.

The girl's were pouring perhaps too many rounds of shots, up at Maria's kitchen counter. She eyed you from it's opposite end and bent over it slightly, causing your cheeks to flare a tinted red at the reminder of the other night. She grinned at you before returning to help Carol and Wanda. You remained on the couch, finishing off the remaining sips of your drink. The girl's were discussing where you should head for the night as you lifted your phone and removed Miss Romanoff's number.
The mention and prospect of Club X in the air had you anxious. If you ran into her, you'd be drunk and without any moral compass. Slowly, but certainly, you keyed her number into your contacts and slipped it back into your phone case composing a short text.
- Hey, Miss R. I'm not sure if it's totally appropriate for me to be texting you but, I'm gonna go out tonight and I was wondering if you could please, stay out my way if you see me. Thanks, Y/N.

Harsh but blunt. You hit send before you could back track your decision. Maria handed you another cocktail as you placed your now empty glass down and shut your phone off for the night. She slid down next to you on the couch and pulled you into her side. You swung your legs over her knees and sipped your drink - waiting patiently upon the final round of shots before you'd hit the streets.