Three in a Bed

Chapter 1: How to screw up and yet somehow not

A/N: Language warning. Also apologies for the shitty Chinese I used google translate don't hate me. I hope you enjoy! I will update as regularly as I can, hopefully once a week!
Kohana xoxo
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You stand at the front of the class, feeling the accusing gazes of sixteen students critically analyse your hair, your make-up, your choice of clothes.

The teacher, Mrs Huang, introduces you, looking around the class for a free seat. She points you to a back row seat, next to the only person not staring at you.

As you sit down he shifts, seeming to notice you for the first time. There is a fleeting moment of eye contact between you before he lowers his head to his notebook again, where he is drawing something; it looks like a deer.

Realising you are still staring at him, you hastily turn away, blushing as you hear his low chuckle - he had noticed.

Well, he is incredibly attractive, you defend yourself internally. Part of you is mortified that he caught you staring at him, but the rest of you is busy peeking at his hand as he moves his pen across the paper in graceful strokes.

Aware of your gaze, he shifts his hand to cover the drawing from your view, and you curse inwardly. Now you've screwed up all chances of ever finding a friend in this unfamiliar place of judgement.

Throughout the rest of the lesson, the two of you sit in a brittle silence, as you fight the urge to ask his name. The bell rings,a comforting sound as it means you can escape the hot, humid classroom. Gathering your books in a pile, you swing your bag over your shoulder and follow the rest of the students out of the room, hurrying so you can ask for directions to the languages block.

The corridors are very crowded, and you are jostled and pushed as people try to get to their lessons. In the mêlée you lose the other students from the class, and suddenly you are surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

Another bell rings and the corridors empty in seconds, leaving you alone and confused, with no idea where you are or where you should be, having been swept along by the tide of students.

I've really fucked up this time, you think to yourself, looking around you to try and figure out where the hell you are in the school. The classrooms leading off this corridor seem to be maths rooms.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit, you curse, hitting yourself on the head in exasperation. Leaning against the wall, you try to muster the courage to enter a classroom and ask a teacher in your still-not-great Mandarin how to get to your Mandarin class. Quite frankly, it would be mortifying.

Standing up, you begin to wander the corridors, a desperate attempt to accidentally stumble across the right place. But it's no good, you are hopelessly lost. After seemingly walking in circles for a while, you sink to the ground in despair, dropping your head into your hands. First day at a new school in China, fucking China, and you've screwed up big time.

Someone rounds the corner, and a pair of black Vans appears in front of you. You raise your head to look up at the tall figure stood in front of you. It's the boy from your first lesson, staring at you with a strange kind of angry and confused admiration.

He extends a hand and you take it. He pulls you to your feet with surprising ease, your palm tingling from the contact and your heart rate accelerating. Taking your class schedule, he glances critically at it.

"Mandarin, Room 10," he muses, tucking the timetable under his arm and taking off down the corridor. Hastily grabbing your bag and books you hurry to keep up with his long, loping strides.

Along the corridor, down the stairs, along another corridor, through the courtyard, up the stairs, along the corridor... You are almost running beside the boy, but he is completely at ease as he paces along, confident and relaxed.