I huffed through my nose as I continued running full speed. My steps thumped hard on the cement and my hand was gripping hard on my bag's strapper. Glassdoors came at my view and quickly I opened the doors and rushed in through the long hallway filled with papers cut in heart shape.
Rays of sun hitting through the windows on the pavement were making it hard for me to see where I was going but that didn't stop my breathless self from rushing through the empty corridor. I didn't enjoy the situation that I was late for class as to the fact that I have a reputation to keep and a scholarship to get.
The classroom door was being closed and I hurried even faster to stop it from closing.
I reached just in time, panting tired from running.
I fixed my uniform as I observed the room for a free spot to sit preferably close to the window. As my eye catches the perfect seat I start walking towards it and seconds later the young teacher enters the room taking everyone's attention. Her steps cover the silence of the room while the white floor sounds so loud under her red pointed-toe pumps.
"Good morning! Hope you all came prepared today, and I am not talking Valentine Day-wise." She spoke loudly and sharply, the scolding was evident in her voice.
She threw a glance towards the classroom and inspected everyone as a warning that this is a classroom and not a room to discuss Valentine's Day presents.
You could see people hiding their pink packets in their bags soon after they felt under a threat coming from Ms.Laret. Her gaze moved from the terrified students to the book on her hands.
"Let us begin then!" she began handing out a blank paper to every student but not before signing and shaking her head at the terrified teenagers who just kept staring at her.
Blank papers mean writing exercises, my favorite I thought and the ends of my lips lifted slightly to form a proud smile.
I love the quietness of a classroom full of students trying to find the right words to impress with their ideas and I think it's just me who sees how loud the classroom is when everyone is writing.
I fidget with my pencil impatiently waiting for the instruction from our teacher and most importantly the topic of what all those minds are going to reckon for this week.
"I am tired of those pink and purple hearts," the teacher finally remarks quietly, it appears that she has stepped on the purple heart and now the paper is stuck on her heel, making a face that agrees with her sentence she frowned continuing. "As you all seem to love those" she gestured to all of the red paper hearts while observing us, including me. I wanted to tell her that I wasn't a fan of the hearts either but I wasn't sure that would lighten her mood. "I want from you all to write a two paged essay on, "What does one do for love?".
With those words, magically the class erupted and everyone had their reactions, while some idiots snickered at the idea of writing about love, some found this a great time to tease their classmates with mentioning their crushes, some didn't need a reminder as they had that lovey-dreamy face on, their eyes were lighting up with desire and I am sure, they were ready to write not just two pages but a book.
I, on the other hand, was not excited about the topic but my vision was plastered on the white paper and one would think I was commanding the text to be written. I love writing and surely I was more than your average good student, worked harder than anyone here to keep my scholarship because everyone here was filthy rich and all they cared about was passing their classes.
This reputation made me kind of well informed in every subject but that doesn't include love. I had the worst idea of love. Love was a storm on my mind and whatever thought of love angered me. So I know that whatever I wrote would be a cry for help or just straight insults.
Lost on the thought that whatever I would write would sound like a robot trying to explain love, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Through the time I was lost in myself, someone entered the classroom, kindly smiling at Ms.Laret he took the seat next to mine. My troubled thoughts prevented me from hearing him enter the class and now I was a bit straddled from his hand on my shoulder, his radiant smile, and the morning messy hair. The heavy navy uniform that seemed so light on him and the messy tie I was looking at right now showed just how careless this man in front of me was. I wanted to ask if he spent his night sleeping somewhere in the school instead of his king-sized bed.
He needed a few seconds to stare at my face to get that there was something on my mind.
"Why the long face?" he asked while reaching for his notebook from his black backpack which was a present from me for his birthday.
"Why are you smiling so widely?" I asked immediately not wanting to discuss love with him. He was the last person to discuss love with!
"You were staring and frowning at the paper and the last time I was here you were writing like crazy. I don't forget you were so close to elbowing me because I tried to read your text, so what's up? Why are you mad?" He leaned in closer to my face as if that would make it possible for him to read my thoughts.
"Kadin would you kindly explain to Bellamy, what his assignment is" Ms. Laret's sharp voice compelled Bellamy to stop staring at me.
"I am not mad, just thinking" I answered in a lower voice, picking my pen up to just put it down again and sigh. I had zero ideas on what to write and
My struggle caught Bellamy's attention as he smirked knowing I am stuck.
I was close to him because he was different, while everyone's head here touches the ceiling every day, Bellamy is on the same level with me not financially of course as he is filthy rich but he understands I am here too and that's enough for me.
Like at this moment seeing my distress, he just turned his notebook towards me and there was written, "don't worry I can write the essay for you :) "
What's it about? he asked this time vocally with a soft voice. Fuck.
I quietly repeated whatever our teacher said earlier and watched his reaction to the topic. We are close enough so I knew what reaction he was going to have but still wanted to watch him.
"Ironic isn't it" I observed him lower his head and from his breathing, I questioned if I should help him or not.
He raised his head and it was visible that he was mad, he was trying to control his breathing so hard but the moment his eyes laid on my wrist his rage came back.
He abruptly stood up and grasped my hand and showed my bracelet on my face.
"This is ironic, this!" he gritted under his teeth and shoved my hand to my chest.
He got up and grabbed his bag aggressively and left slamming the door in the process making the class erupt in gossips about what just happened.
