THE ARISTOCRATS #1

00:10

Clementine tried to stay away from trouble to the best of her abilities, but sometimes she couldn't help but chase after it like a moth to a lamp. Trouble was inevitable, just like many other things in life. The thought ran through her mind as she walked to Elijah's room at around 5:30pm on a Tuesday afternoon. The school was still buzzing with students enjoying the company of their many peers.

She didn't know who else to talk to after her fight with the three other boys.

Clementine was gutted. They had been friends for less than two weeks, and had already broken up.

When she reached his room, Clementine breathed in, filling her lungs with crisp air. Her smooth knuckles rapped on the door, and she tried to ignore the nervous churning of her stomach.

She waited a good five minutes, tapping her foot impatiently. Exhaling in irritation, she rapped harder on the door, her knuckles beginning to ache.

The door opened, revealing a dishevelled looking Elijah. Clementine didn't want to admit that her heart skipped a beat, and then continued pounding as if she had run to hell and back.

He was always so beautiful. A small part of her died every single she time she laid her eyes on him.

"Hi." She breathed, suddenly unsure of what to say. "Can I come in?"

Elijah gave her a haughty once over, blocking the entrance to his room with his body. The waves of his ebony hair stuck up in different areas, giving a whole new meaning to bed head. He wore a crumpled white shirt with the Saint Laurent logo branded across the chest. He looked like he had just woken up. Was he wearing that shirt to bed. She would've laughed if she wasn't feeling so anxious. She wondered if he was aware of his beauty, but how could he not?

"You've got some nerve showing up here," he drawled, crossing his toned arms and leaning onto the frame of the door.

Clementine fiddled with the edge of her skirt. "You heard what happened," she winced.

"Of course I heard, you think they wouldn't have told me?" He snorted.

"I didn't know who else to go to," she murmured, feeling as if she had been stripped bare.

"So you came here," Elijah raised an eyebrow. "To me."

He had a point. And he wasn't giving her anything to go off of.

"Yeah. To you," she spoke softly. "I don't have anyone else to talk to," she pleaded with her eyes, holding his flinty gaze.

"Don't give me those eyes, sweet girl," Elijah crooned mockingly, shaking his head in disappointment. "You trying to guilt trip me?"

"Is it working?" Her tone bordered on exasperation.

He sighed, moving aside and letting her in. He almost looked furious with himself for giving in so easily, his eyes dark and his brows furrowed.

"Thank you," Clementine breathed.

He didn't reply, waving his hand dismissively and scowling to himself,

She paused, unsure of what to do. His bed was rumpled, the sheets in an unmade mess, his pillow halfway off the bed and onto the floor. The rest of his room was clean enough, his desk was scattered with textbooks, and multiple designer shirts lay on the floor.

He glanced at her as she hovered awkwardly around his desk.

"Just sit on the bed," Elijah said, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

"Right, yeah." Clementine sat on her hands, nodding at the awkwardness of the room.

"Do you want to explain to me why you're here?" He took a seat at his desk, lounging in a way that screamed power and arrogance.