Charlotte

7.

Charlotte

Out of all people, why does he have to be here?

"Ok," the professor announces. "Please take a seat behind Ms. King?"

"Ms. King? I've been here for about 35 seconds, Professor. I'm sorry to inform you that I have no idea who Ms. King is." He locks his hazel eyes with my green ones. I flush lightly and look away.

"Oh, right. Behind Ms. Charlotte King. Second row, third column. Blonde hair and green eyes," I hear Professor Adams describe me. Everyone looks at me and I look down and blush. Hard. "Have a seat immediately. I was in the middle of teaching our first lesson."

"Of course Professor. Again, I am so sorry for interrupting. And I'm extremely sorry for being late," Romeo says while walking towards his seat. Which was directly behind me.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Professor Adams mumbles to himself quietly and goes back to his lesson. I hear him start talking, but the sound of a desk creaking slightly instantly overpowers it.

I slightly turn in my seat to meet Romeo's hazel eyes once more. He smirks and winks at me, causing my face to heat up. He has made me blush three times in ten mins. I turn back around and try my hardest to ignore the fact that Romeo was sitting behind me.

The class finally ends forty minutes later. The professor gives us homework due for the next day and dismisses us, wishing us a nice day.

I pack up my things and begin heading to my next class. I don't know how, but as I was walking, I could feel someone following me. But every time I would look over my shoulder, no one was behind me.

I made it to my second class, Calculus, still constantly checking over my shoulder. However, my problem wasn't behind me, but in front of me. I let out an audible gasp as I see Romeo in my seat, smirking. With confidence and determination, I walk up to him, accommodated with powerful footsteps.

"What are you doing in my seat? And you aren't in this class," I proclaim.

"Just like I wasn't in your literature class either, but suddenly I am? I'm everywhere and anywhere la mia dolce zucca dolce," he said. (My sweet little pumpkin) His response left me shunned.

"W-what?" I stutter, confused.

"Mr. Toscano, Ms. King, is there a problem?" Professor Johnson questions.

"No professor," I answer quickly. "I will take my seat." I sit down in front of a smirking Romeo.

"Please don't waste my time. I have calculus to teach," she scolds.

"Sorry professor," Romeo apologizes.

Then it occurred to me: Romeo Toscano. It's an Italian name. He was speaking Italian earlier. I must know what it means. Back home I took French, not Italian.

I watched each second that the clock ticked. It was intimidating. It was only 8:42. I still had 42 minutes and 45 seconds left.

"Ms. Charlotte?"

"Y-yes professor?"

"Could you please come up and answer this algebraic problem on the board?"

"Of course."

I slowly stand up and make my way to the front. I could feel everyone's eyes burning into my back as I stepped up. Professor Johnson hands me a black expo marker and smirks. Stupid teacher. I loved math, but I absolutely hated the teacher.

"And don't forget to walk us through it as you solve it. Make sure to speak loud and clear," she says and I roll my eyes slightly.

"Ok, um, well, this is a simple substitution problem," I start. I teach the class how I solve the easy problem. "And that is why x=approximately 3.14," I conclude.

"Very nice Ms. King. Please, have a seat."

I smile to myself slightly as I hand her back the marker and make my way back to my seat. This time, eyes that were once on my back were staring at my green ones. They were all different colors. I catch some blue ones, mostly browns, hardly any greens, even one black pair, but the color that I found to be the most intriguing were the eyes of Romeo.

They were no longer hazel, but a light green. They were bright as if he was extremely happy. But why?

I sit back down and still feel his eyes burn into the back of my neck. 38 minutes and 23 seconds left. The rest of the class passes by. And finally, the end is near.

"Ok, class dismissed. I shall see you all tomorrow."

"You're Italian?" I ask, whipping my head back. The question was directed at Romeo, but his seat was already empty.

"No, I'm actually American," a boy, who sat behind the empty seat, said. He has blonde hair a light green eyes. Almost like mine. We could have almost passed for twins.

"Oh, sorry, I was actually talking to Romeo," I sheepishly smile. "Or trying to anyway."

"Ah, Romeo. He's my best friend. And his sister is actually my girlfriend," he informs me, and I'm surprised by the information. We both simultaneously get up to walk out of the class, being the last ones out. "My name's Hudson. You may have heard of me. I'm the captain of the football team. Or, it used to be soccer to me before I moved here eight years ago."

"Pleasure to meet you. Name's Charlotte. I'm also American. I just moved here this summer so I really don't know or heard of you. But I sit with Italia on the bus. And Romeo's in my literature class," I say as I walk down the hall.

"Cool. My class is right here actually. It was nice talking to you Charlotte. Do you mind if I call you Charlie?"

"Not at all. Tell Italia I said hey."

"Sure. Hope to see you later Charlotte."

I walk to the girl's locker room and begin changing. I didn't mind changing by now. Only have to do this about a hundred more times.

As we were warming up, I spotted some of the guys stretching and talking. One of them included Romeo.

Is he in my gym class too? Great.

After gym class ended, I immediately changed back into my clothes and headed towards my last class. The entire way, I prayed that he wouldn't be there. Especially in my seat. Or anywhere near me.

Yet he was. This time, he was in the seat to my left. I internally groaned and sat down. The professor didn't waste any time in teaching, and for the first time, I'm glad she didn't.

History passed by in the breeze. Towards the end, it actually started raining, which really sucked cause I had to walk home.

As I stepped outside the front door, I took in how hard it was actually raining.

"Hey!" someone called from the parking lot. My eyes searched the populated lot until they saw who called me.

It was Romeo, with his motorcycle. He mentioned me to come to him and I shook my head, pointing to the rain. He sighed and came to me.

"You need a ride?"

"What?"

"Do you want me to drop you off at your house?" he repeated. "It's raining and you walked home yesterday."

"You were following me?"

"No, I just happened to look in your direction for a decent amount of time," he smirks. Stalker. "So do you want a ride or not? It's better than waiting for the bus."

"What about your sister?"

"Don't worry about her. She has a ride."

"Hudson?" I guessed.

"How did you know?" His brows shift in confusion and in slight anger.

"Um, he's in our math class. And I spoke to him after the bell," I explain.

Romeo mutters something under the lines of "I'll have to talk to him later" but I ignored it.

"Last chance. Do you want a ride or not?"

I signed and looked at Romeo's motorcycle. It didn't look too bad. So I agree.

I regrettably agree.