Reflections

Chapter 1

"Valerie!" A shrill voice calling my name brings me back to consciousness. Groaning, I lift my head, already missing the comfort of the desk. Just a few more minutes; is that so much to ask for? "Valerie!" Guess not.

I direct my gaze to the front of the lecture hall, where The Witch stands, hands on hips, awaiting a response.

"Yes?" I straighten in my chair, running a hand over my eyes and fumbling to smooth out the creases in my shirt.

"Nice of you to join us, Miss Jones. Please, remind me of what I was just discussing. I've suddenly forgotten!" Her eyes bore into mine, waiting. I always knew she hated me.

"Um...I'm—I'm not sure."

"Why not?" Somehow, she's made her way across the hall, and comes to a standstill right in front of me. Slowly, perhaps excruciatingly so, she lowers herself to my height. I glance around; all eyes are on me. All amused, I'm sure. Oh, how wonderful it is to be an onlooker in one of Professor Siddiqui's attacks! How wonderful it is to watch as she claws her way into some helpless soul's heart, breaking any semblance of happiness, hope that they might have. Why me? I always knew she hated me.

I look back. Her eyes bore into mine. I swallow. She smirks. Someone giggles. Oh no.

"I—I just dozed off for a second. I didn't hear you. I'm sorry, Professor, I'm sorry; I swear it won't happ—" I blurt out. Better to say what I can in defence than wait for her attack without it.

"So, tell me, Valerie; what makes you think you have the right to sleep in my class?" She too looks amused. I swear she's a sadist. No one should be allowed to get that much pleasure from someone else's suffering.

She waits a moment. I swallow. Why is that becoming a habit? Say something, you idiot! You're a strong, independent woman, and no stodgy old professor can intimidate you! The Witch begins to tap her foot on the ground, her patience already waning. I swallow again. So much for strong and independent.

"I—I was..." I search my mind for an excuse, any excuse. Come on, Val! Anything, you idiot!

Something comes to me, an idea slowly forming in my mind. With renewed confidence, I manage to get something out.

'I was up really late last night studying, and I was working my two jobs Professor. It's just so overwhelming, I didn't get any sleep last night."

Good; lay it on thick, Val, lay it on thick. She doesn't need to know I was up all-night watching videos on YouTube. The woman's pushing 35; I bet she doesn't even know what that is.

The Witch stares at me, imploring, trying to catch a lie. Finally, she shakes her head and turns, walking back to the front of the hall.

"That is no excuse, Miss Jones. I expect my students to have better time management; that is what is expected of you all now in college. This is the first and only warning I shall be issuing. I shall be lenient this time, but keep in mind, Miss Jones," directing a pointed stare in my direction, "If I catch you asleep again, I won't be letting you off so easily".

Yes! Mom did always say I was quite the drama queen. If only you could see me now, mom; you'd be so proud.

I blink; uh oh, The Witch is still staring at me. I cough, trying to cover my mistake, 'This won't happen again, Professor Sid—"

The sound of the door slamming shut interrupts me. Eyes whip around to the perpetrator; the poor soul crazy enough to be late to The Witch's class. In walks a boy, no, a man; perhaps over 6 feet tall, toned, with arms covered in tattoos. He saunters in, not caring, or mayhap enjoying the stares issued his way. The infamous Shawn Mendes. The school's resident 'bad boy'. Even now, he sends a smirk, quirks his eyebrows or straight out glares at anyone who dares looks his way. Why? What happened to him; why is he so cold and distant? Was he always like this?

Interrupting my thoughts, Professor Siddiqui looks towards Shawn, "Ah, Mr Mendes. Finally decided to grace us with your presence?"

Shawn, rather than answering, shrugs his shoulder, turns and begins making his way towards the back of the classroom.

The Witch stops him, "Mr Mendes, as you have arrived late to class, once again, I might add, I shall be assigning your seat". Shawn pauses, glowering. The Witch glances left and right, eyes searching the classroom. After a moment her eyes land directly on me. No. No. This cannot be happening. No way. This is so—

"Mr Mendes, as you and Miss Jones have both directly violated my rules today, you shall be seated together." For the first time, I hear Shawn make a noise as he loudly groans, turning to face me. Begrudgingly, he walks towards my desk. He stops next to me, where the Professor was mere minutes ago, placing his things down and sitting.

Strange. He didn't even need The Witch to point me out.

I turn my attention to the lesson, trying to ignore the hairs standing up of the back of my neck. He's just a boy, Val. A strangely attractive one, but a boy nonetheless. Get a grip, woman. I open my notebook, trying to ignore our knees, almost brushing; the way he smells, that perfect cologne. Is that sandalwood? With a hint of cinnamon, I think. No! Get a grip! What are you doing? I focus all my energy on blocking him out, losing myself in my work.

The Witch begins another monologue, pulling me from my stupor, "You will be getting this assignment in a week's time. The assignment will be a semester-long project and shall require you to work with a partner that I will select—"

Slowly turning, I remember I'm still sitting next to Shawn. The longer I look at him, the more I notice his eyes. Why do they have to be so pretty? Golden brown, just breeching on hazel. My eyes move across his face. His hair sits in a curly mess atop his head, but still manages to look perfect, his jawline so sharp I swear it could cut paper. My eyes are drawn to the tattoos on his arms, when suddenly, he turns to meet my gaze. For a few seconds, we stare at each other, my face morphing to resemble a deer caught in headlights. Heat rises to my cheeks before I quickly turn away. What happened to the whole GET A GRIP thing, woman? I pretend to focus on what The Witch was saying, turning to the front and resuming my notes. Great. Just act like nothing happened. Not like he didn't catch you STARING at him like a PERVERT. You IDIOT!

"Like what you see?"

"What?" I snap, a tad too defensively. It's Shawn.

Turning to me, he speaks again, "You were staring at me,'' he states simply. No accusation, no amusement. He sounds as if he's reading from a textbook, so devoid of emotion; as if he knows exactly what I was doing.

He glances when I make no move to respond, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

The clock ticks. A blush spreads throughout my whole body. My face begins to heat, my ears ring.

"No, I wasn't. You must be mistaken."

"You can continue saying that, but the only person you're fooling is yourself." He crosses his arms, leaning on the desk in my direction, and a smirk spreads across his face.

"It's okay if you were; I'm used to the constant attention I receive from girls like you," he chuckles to himself, seemingly pleased with what he's said.

"Even if I was looking at you, I was only doing so in an attempt to see what all of your 'fangirls' see. And I've come to the verdict..." I pause, enunciating every word now, smirking, "They're all delusional. I've seen far better than the likes of you, to be honest."

I look into his eyes again, this time in defiance, as if asking him 'what do you have to say now?' Shawn says nothing. Ha! That shut him up real good, didn't it? He glares at me as if finally realising who he's talking to, and turns back to his work with a huff.

I start to wonder why he reacted in such a harsh manner. Maybe I struck a nerve? Hundreds of thoughts bounce around in my head, all surrounding the same elusive figure sitting inches away from me.

'RIIIIIIIIING"

Shawn grunts before I can get a word in edgewise, and leaves as soon as possible, glaring at me as he leaves the classroom.