Wings

8. Alexander

She smelled sweet and spicy all at once.

She smelled like cinnamon.

All through the class, as I tried to take notes, her potent scent filled my lungs.

She didn't take notes. She just kept grumbling complaints under her breath and glaring when I laughed at them. She didn't seem to be paying much attention. She fidgeted. Her fingers tapped the desk incessantly. Her foot bounced, rattling the whole table. Most of all, she doodled.

All over the sides of her paper were eyes staring up at you, or cartoonish villains with tattoos and broken wings. She drew people I didn't recognize. Most of all, though, she drew wings. Big, full wings that were black with white and grey specks. Beautiful wings.

Other times, she'd look out the window. She'd just stare, with a look that told me she was contemplating running.

I glanced at her paper. Alexa... Her name was Alexa Roman.

I stood when the bell rang. Mrs. Criss left the room, hurrying out after her students. I moved forward, but a firm hand grabbed my forearm. I turned to see Alexa glaring up at me, eyebrows furrowed and hair all over the place.

"Look," she hissed. Her complexly colored eyes bore into me. "I don't like you. Or your stupid name. Alexander. I'm gonna call you Alex. Anyways, Alex-" she seemed very distracted in the way she spoke, eyes darting to my back where I nervously shifted my wings. "I didn't want a partner. I definitely didn't want you as my partner. Honestly, I don't want anything to do with you, Alex." She said my new nickname in the form of a harsh sneer. "Or," she continued. "Your awful girlfriend." 

I opened my mouth to protest against her statement, but she cut me off with a dismissive wave of her fragile hand.

"I don't need, nor do I want, your shitty help. So you aren't going to help me. Not like you planned on it anyways. All you pretty boys are the same..." Pretty boys? "Anyways, I'll finish the project on my own. No talking to me. No coming to my apartment. I do it, slap your name on the front, and we both stay happy with our A's in our own little worlds. Okay? Okay. Good."

Like a hurricane satisfied with its damage, Alexa started to saunter out. "Wait," I mustered. She half turned. "No. I won't take your grade, Alexa."

She turned fully then, books plastered to her chest.

I continued, pleased with making her stop. "I'll work on it, too. You can come over to my place. My parents won't mind."

She snorted. "Your girlfriend might."

I winced, gulping back the shriek that came at her name. It only brought on a wave of memories, being pinned on the couch with no hope of escaping her grasp.

"N-no," I faltered. "She won't." Nice recovery. "I want to help."

She rolled her beautiful eyes. "Whatever. Your house. Tonight. Only work. You try anything stupid and I'll break your pretty little face." And she was gone.