Her Hope (On Hold)

[ Chapter Seven ]

"Over there, you have the nerds."

"There's only two."

"Maybe because nerds typically hang out in the library for breaks... don't you read?"

After I eventually found the cafeteria, Christian made a promise to inform me on all the different groups this school possessed.

How so very fascinating!

"–Emo's over there. FYL, don't ever go to one of their parties... Unless you want a 30 minute lesson on all things satanic." He shivered in digust, as if mentally reliving a nightmare. I quirked an eyebrow in his direction but said nothing.

"Cheerleaders and Jocks, obviously." He scoffed, moving along.

He continued talking until he landed upon a particular group, a sour look on his face.

"Those people are apart of an opposing mafia group, they're lower in rank but believe they're somewhat higher than us. It's pathetic really." He seemed genuinely pissed off, "They've attempted to jump me a few times, but the goody two shoes of their group always persuade them otherwise." He rolled his eyes, a small smile smothered on his lips. Christian was always one to find humour in even the worst case scenarios.

"And who is this saint you speak o-"

I was unable to finish my sentence when my eyes landed on the least person I suspected to ever sit at a table filled with delinquents.

"He goes by the name of Trist-"

"Tristian." I finished, biting the inside of my cheek at how quick I was in intervene. Christians eyes flickered up to mine, narrowing into slits.

"How do you know him?" He queried, interrogating me with his piercing stare.

"We have a few classes together." I scoffed, tossing a fry at his face. He was seriously starting to sound like my father.

"Good. Because if he ever so much as attempts to talk to you, you have to tell me." Sincerity laced his voice, a worried expression suddenly crossing his features.

"He didn't." I lied, maintaining my usual nonchalant stare so that he wouldn't suspect a thing. "Why would it be a problem anyway?" I asked in a way that came off as careless.

"Because everyone in that little group of theirs are snakes, they'll turn on you in an instance if you let them." Sorrow flashed past his dove-grey irises, as he willed himself not to look at the table. I felt a pang of guilt, obviously reminding him of a paste trauma as I outstretched my hand and rested it on his in a friendly manner.

"I won't interact with any them."

• • •

"Hey Ellie!" I winched.

Turns out I had French with him as well.

"I lied earlier by the way, I'd prefer it if you stuck to calling me Elenaor, mystery girl or perhaps just... nothing at all." He looked taken aback by my response before instantaneously recovering with a grin.

"You definitely are unique, which is super ra-"

"Can't you just leave me alone?!" I harshly snapped, a glare resting on my face.