𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎

chapter two

"You're literally always late— sit down!"

Connor hurried to unpack his bag, his chair skidding as he unceremoniously fell into it. A pen and pencil fell and rolled across Connor's table, the sound accompanying the misplaced groove music of the instructional culinary video being played to the class, and alongside the murmur from various pockets of students. The classroom was dark, with the only light, aside from the projector, seeping through the windows in the adjacent hallway.

Lily was still gazing at Connor. He mumbled something with the words 'confusing' and 'other class', but continued to unravel the contents of his bag and organise his desk.

"You're not gonna give me a reason?" Lily retorted. "Okay, fine. Here, we've already written some things— just copy off me."

Connor threw the fair-skinned brunette a faint smile and a 'thank you so much', then scribbled Lily's notes onto his own paper. Eventually, he was brought to speed with where most of the students were, and was allowed a moment of ease.

"You have no idea how long this past week has been," Lily muttered. "I haven't seen you or the others this whole time. I missed you so much!"

"It's been too long," Connor responded, a smirk playing upon his lips. Then, a pause. "Lily... I was thinking... after school-"

Ms. Stewart raised her voice. "Please make sure you are writing down all of the information, not simply answering the questions in the workbook! And don't forget the paragraph you will need to write on the next page, using information from both the video and the supplied passages."

A suppressed, collective whine ensued. Connor lowered his eyelids at Lily, annoyed.

"This teacher..."

Someone rapped on the door.

"Come in," the teacher said, pausing the video. Connor didn't know anyone capable of being so monotonous.

"Hello, Ms. Stewart," a young boy said, wearing the junior school uniform. "The people at the school office sent me to remind teachers to record attendance."

"Right, thank you," the teacher automated, resuming the video. The student left the classroom to go to the next room down the hallway. Ms. Stewart performed a head-count, her gold necklace faintly glinting as her head nodded at each student.

"We have twenty-three students present— how many in a class?"

"Twenty-four," the class chorused. Of course.

There was a brief pause, marking Connor's awareness of sure footsteps coming down the hallway. He jotted some notes down onto his paper, preoccupied with the video playing at the front of the class.

"I think Jamie isn't here, Ms. Stewart," a student said bluntly.

It was as if it was rehearsed. A distinct head of tight, dark curls abruptly appeared behind the window separating the classroom from the hallway. The messy locks bent down to unpack something.

Ms. Stewart shuffled over to the door, and the class snickered as she lectured the boy on lateness.

"Here he is," Connor heard someone giggle. He raised his head.

A low effort 'yeah' was the response to Ms. Stewart, who waited for a brief moment, then moved back to her chair.

Then, Jamie Corbin walked into the room.

In front of Connor was a tall, well-built figure, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his face. He had an olive complexion, lightly dotted with the faintest freckles. It was not Connor's intention to observe the fullness of his pink lips, although his gaze seemed to drift towards them. A noticeably defined jawline underlined his face.