What is it with this goddamn girl?
Clara had been everywhere I’d turned since the beginning of the weekend. Everything from the Marine banquet, to the bar afterwards, to Father’s little family get-together…
I realized the seat next to her was available, and a sly smile crossed my lips.
Fine. Challenge accepted.
Narrowly, I squeezed into the seat before some other guy could snag it. Clara quickly glanced up, her breath catching in her throat.
“Hullo, love,” I grinned knowingly.
“What. The. Fuck.” She trembled. “Are you, like, actually stalking me now? Why can’t I fucking get away from you?”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right,” I conceded mockingly. “I specifically called you in to work my banquet, trailed you to the bar, hooked our parents up, and somehow got your schedule and put myself in your class.”
“Ugh. Actually, that last one is me,” Clara sighed. “I transferred into Psych at the last second. I wasn’t on the attendance until this morning.”
“See? It’s destiny,” I told her.
“Destiny?” She looked at me like I was crazy.
“Of course! Either you and I are the butt of some cruel, cosmic joke… or something really wants us to give each other a chance. You can’t deny that this is pretty bizarre.”
“The only bizarre thing about this is that our parents are dating,” she spat out in a hushed tone.
“So you’re fine with us, then,” I countered without skipping a beat. “It’s just our parents that are the problem. Good to know.”
“No, that’s not what I said at all,” she insisted.
“You said, and I quote, the only bizarre thing about this is that–”
“I know what I said.”
I smiled, watching her grow more flustered by the second. Clara shook her head at me, the very picture of exasperation; valiantly, she tried and failed to hide a faint smile, hinted at the corner of her lips.
At that moment, the profession stepped into the room. A thin, gaunt figure with thick, snow-white hair and a matching, magnificent beard, he set down his briefcase on the podium and glanced up at us through thick, black-rimmed spectacles.
“Good morning, students, and welcome to Psychology 1001. My name is Doctor Thaddeus Pritchard. You may call me Professor Pritchard or Doctor Pritchard; either will do. Now then, I’ll be guiding those of you here next week for the following several months. Please pull out your textbooks and flip to page 108 while I call roll…”
“Shit,” Clara whispered. “I totally forgot to pick one up.”
“No need,” I replied casually, pulling out a thick, heavy copy of The Realm Inside: A Beginner’s Psychology Guide. “We can share this for the moment.”
She bit her lip and raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t overlook that this book was, used, still over a hundred bucks. “Just for today.”
“Oh, of course,” I shrugged. “Just today. You’ll get your own copy after that, assuming you stick out the class, that is.” I let my slight smile carry the tone as I challenged her. “I hear this guy’s kind of tough, after all. You might not hack it.”
“Is that so?” Clara replied, slipping a few strands of hair behind her ear. She was watching me with an eyebrow raised. “We’re assuming, of course, that you won’t be intimidated by him either. A guy like that looks like he belongs behind a podium at Harvard, not here.”
The professor smacked something loud against the podium, drawing our attention.
“I’m sorry, is your flirtation more important than my class? If that’s the case, feel free to excuse yourselves,” Doctor Pritchard airily cut in.
“Apologies, Professor,” I replied with dignity. “I was merely offering to help a fresh transfer with reading materials for today.”
“English, hmm?” Doctor Pritchard observed keenly. He adjusted his glasses against his nose and peered towards me. “What part of England are you from?”
I was surprised by his sudden interest.
“Uh, South London.”
“I see,” he murmured. “Interesting. I spent a decade teaching in London. Awful food, too much drinking, but it was, overall, a pleasant experience.” He turned to Clara, who seemed amused by this assessment. “Is it true that you joined in the last twenty-four hours?”
“This morning, actually,” she answered.
“Better last minute than a week late,” he nodded with a tentative smile. “What’s your name? You won’t be on my attendance sheet unless I pencil you in.”
“Clara Campbell,” she answered.
I smiled privately. Alliterative. I like it. Also, not a far cry from ‘Clara Carlyle’…
With a brief moment of horror, I banished the thought away. There was no reason to have thoughts even remotely like that… until I realized that, if our parents married, that could possibly wind up becoming her name, anyway…
Once he made the corrections, Doctor Pritchard continued the roll call, leaving me plenty pleased with my thoughts. Well, maybe he’ll be a little easier on me with the grade.
The rest of the class wound up fairly straightforward. This professor didn’t employ casual starter days – we were already reviewing material and assigned homework at the end of the session.
It was hard to stay committed to paying attention to him with Clara right there. I felt myself enamored by the way she focused on the material, biting her bottom lip when she was heavily concentrating or perplexed.
She was so effortlessly beautiful.
That’s when I knew I had to take things seriously with her… that I had to try. I could have just written her off, but honestly? All that destiny stuff I had told her?
I believed it.
It was weird to me that I’d seen so much of her in such a short period of time. We were definitely supposed to be paying attention to each other, and the more that I did so, and the longer that I watched her out of the corner of my eye, the more I felt a little something tug inside me for her.
It was small and easily overlooked, but from that small flicker in my heart, I could build the foundation of something much bigger.
I knew my soul could burn for her if I let it.
That’s why, when class was over, I followed her outside and redirected her towards the nearby overhang. It was a covered seating area; other students mostly filled the available tables, so I leaned against a pillar instead.
“Yeah? What did you want?” She asked impatiently. I could see that she was slightly on edge, nervously looking around and absent-mindedly sliding her hair behind her ear… something that only encouraged me further.
“You and I need to talk,” I told her.
“I, uh, we don’t need to talk.”
“We definitely do,” I smiled softly.
“No.” She was trying to put her foot down here, but her hesitance gave her away. Sure, she knew what I was going to say… but she wanted me to say it.
“I’m just going to go out and say it,” I sighed, choosing my words very carefully. “Clara, you’ve had my attention since the moment that we first met, and I want to see where that goes.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll remind you that when we first met, you were publicly humiliating me in front of your Marine friends, and making horrible sexual passes at me.”
“So I came off the wrong way,” I shrugged. “I know that I fucked up. You were only going to be a harmless little bit of amusement, but then I ran into you immediately afterwards, and you seemed so…”
“So what?” She asked with feigned apathy, poorly disguising how she was clutching onto my every word.
“So… wildly attractive,” I conceded. “Seeing you there by yourself, outside of your banquet serving attire, as just a girl trying to buy a drink… it compounded inside me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. I had to get to know you.”
Clara scoffed. “So, you see me in my street clothes, and suddenly everything changes? Real smooth, bucko.”
“That’s not wh
at I meant,” I insisted. “Once we were alone and back in our elements, we clicked. Sure, you pushed me away a little, but I deserved that. And once we got to talking, I felt a spark grow.”
“A spark? You’re a real walking cliché, you know that?” She muttered, shaking her head. Her hair falling forward didn’t hide the smile that I saw developing across that beautiful little face of hers.
Testing the waters, I reached down and lifted her chin. Instead of flinching or recoiling, her eyes went wild with fear, gazing deeply into mine like a frightened animal… but Clara didn’t dare move away.