Enough | ✔️

+ 10 +

I'm in my room, hands supporting my head and threading through my hair in frustration. I pace the room restlessly before sitting on my bed and sighing in exasperation.

"Are you alright?"

I look up, remembering that Hannah is standing by the door.

"It's been a long day, I think I'm just tired," I sigh, "Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow, realise how irrational I've been, and march over to Grant's to apologise."

She shrugs as I gesture her closer.

"You know you're going to have to be my new friend, right? Even if temporarily. I can't survive on my own. I don't want to be the loner that gets picked on, I've suffered with that enough in my childhood," I say, only half kidding as she sits down beside me, sinking into the soft duvet.

A smile curves her lips, "Sure. I think I'm done with Martha-May, Clara, and Jesse. She may be my twin, but we've never been close."

Gathering my negative thoughts into a picnic blanket and tossing it over the side of a cliff, I allow a laugh to escape me, "That's sisterly love, if I ever saw any."

I don't realise that someone else has come in until Professor Hartley's smooth voice is cutting through the air, "Miss Neversea? Miss Klein?"

"Hello, Sir," Hannah answers politely, a practised greeting paired with a small smile.

I look up at him expectantly as he looks between us several times before deciding not to question it. He instead asks, "Miss Klein, will you be here often from now on?"

She hesitates and glances at me. Rolling my eyes, I supply an answer for her, "Yeah," I nod, deciding to add, "and Grant won't be."

Placing his bag down, he makes the smart decision not to ask about my choice of words and heads into the bathroom to change. As it shuts behind him, Hannah nudges me.

"I have a theory about why Grant lied to you," she says.

I already know what she's thinking but my brain isn't acknowledging it. Come on, you dumb shit, he tried to kiss you, it must be obvious why he lied.

I exhale a heavy breath, "I already know, don't tell me. How do I get him to stop? I'm sorry, but I will never reciprocate his feelings - especially after this."

She fiddles with the hem of her shirt and gives me a pitying look, "I don't know. Maybe he'll back off now."

I can only hope.

Hannah leaves after a while, just as Professor Hartley opens the bathroom door, freshly showered.

"Can I not get one single day without this much drama? I feel like the main character of a very-unfunny sitcom," I voice my pessimistic thoughts, pulling my hair out of its bobble as I start to get one of my famously horrid migraines.

Professor Hartley walks closer and settles on his bed, "I usually do a good job of repressing my curiosity, but I have to ask. What is happening between you and Grant? Your relationship seems odd."

"Ew," I immediately state, "there is no relationship. And secondly - ew, you're my teacher, it's weird to talk about this stuff."

He raises his chocolate eyes to mine, "And it isn't weird at all that we sleep a metre away from each other? You have no obligation to tell me, Miss Neversea, you just seemed troubled."

As I ponder over a suitable reply, he walks over to the mirror, towel-drying his soaked hair. The darkened strands are swept back as he combs his fingers through them, the top longer than the sides to accommodate for his usual fohawk.