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viii - happy endings don't exist

g w e n:

"You weren't expecting that were you?"

I looked up at Calum, whose desk was now attached to mine as we started to work on our semester project, a slew of papers strewn across our two desks.

I shook my head, "why me? You could've had anyone as a partner but you chose me."

Calum shrugged, "I know your name."

"I'm the new girl, and you've been here for how long? I'm pretty sure you know the majority of names in this classroom," I expressed, feeling annoyed with him.

"You caught me," Calum threw his hands up in defeat, "I do know their names... but I don't care about them."

"And you care about me?" I raised a brow, "I don't think so."

"I care about anyone who has the power to turn in a criminal but doesn't," Calum spoke, "you intrigue me Gwen Guzman. Your polished look, your good girl demeanor... you're hiding something."

"Why does my outer appearance mean that I'm hiding something? You don't know me," I told him.

"Don't know you yet... but I will," Calum grinned at me, biting his plump lips as if the gesture would make me crumble to my knees.

But I knew better than to trust a bad boy.

"So um, which novel did you want to read for the project?" I asked, changing the subject. "I was thinking 1984 or A Scarlett Letter?"

I decided to put all my energy into my schoolwork; especially this project. I didn't know what Calum was up to, and I didn't want to waste my time finding out. He was a distraction, and I couldn't let myself succumb to that.

"Eh," was all Calum said.

I let out a sigh, "okay? What about Catcher in the Rye?"

"Over my dead body," Calum sneered.

"Adventures of Huckleberry Fin?"

"Stupid,"

"The Great Gatsby?"

"Rich white people problems,"

"Calum," I grew very annoyed with his attitude, "can you please take this seriously? I need to do well in this class and you're not helping me accomplish that."

"Wuthering Heights," he said.

"Wuthering Heights?" I repeated, looking at the boy before me. His choice confused me. I didn't peg Calum as someone who would enjoy this type of novel-- honestly, I couldn't imagine Calum enjoying any type of novel, period.

As I gazed at him, I noticed that his neck tattoos creeped out of his collared shirt and I wondered what it was. His eyes were so dark they looked black, and he had this aura about him that I couldn't quite read.

Calum raised his hand, "professor, Gwen Guzman and I want Wuthering Heights."

"Uhm we kinda chose that book already," a boy from the other side of the classroom announced, prompting Calum to snap his head in the direction of the boy, sending him death glares.

"No, you didn't," Calum seethed, his eyebrows narrowed in on the frightened boy whose knees rattled in fear.

"You're right," the boy croaked, "we actually chose The Grapes of Wrath."

Calum let out a smirk, clearly satisfied. I however, was disgusted with his actions. Controlling someone through fear was careless; it was something Hitler did in his time and we all know how that ended.