Matters of the Hart

Chapter 10 - Racoon-eyed O-limp-ic champion.

Life has a funny way of playing out. There are times when you think, 'oh this is barely anything bad' or 'oh, this is stupid, it'll blow over' and it actually does work out in your favour. Grey clouds don't stay for too long. They pour down and then fall back into the ravine. That's the law of nature. That's the demand of nature.

Now before you get the wrong idea or maybe even think that the chronicles of my life have been switching genres, let me tell you that I was not normally this mature. Certain people bring out the melancholic version of myself more often than I would like.

"Watch where you're going, bitch."

There. Now you know.

Claire Colton.

The wolfsbane to my inner Crescent Alpha.

The vervain to my true (and absolutely soothing) Damon Salvatore-like spirit. You can't blame me. I mean, have you seen him without a shirt?

Claire 'I-can't-mind-my-own-business' Colton.

I smiled back sweetly, adjusting the straps of my backpack ignorantly, unsure of what to say next. Not because she made me nervous. I repeat, she didn't make me nervous. It was just her scent that was nauseating.

Monday morning was supposed to be a happy day for me. New day, new problems. If old ones kept popping out of nowhere all the time, there wouldn't be any scope for new ones. I was already bored of my vanilla life. That sentence right there was probably the first screw up of my day and I just knew, that I was off to a great start. Ugh.

"Claire," I clasped my hands together in fake excitement, even bouncing on my tippy toes to garnish my words with some excitement.

"How very not nice to see your ugly self on a fine Monday morning, Thea," she gritted through her pearly white dentures. Yes dentures, because her central incisors had gotten dismantled in a cosmetically fatal accident which involved an angry punch and colourful vocabulary. Let's just say that it would do one good to not tread anywhere near Amelia Hart's hit-list.

Still, Claire's grin was contagious - fake and contagious - and if she expected me to return it, well...then I guess I would do just that.

"I wished for a lucky day too Claire, the Gods must have confused lucky with suck-y," I smirked, knowing full well I could potentially need dentures after this conversation. "Never mind."

Claire laughed. "Oh, the hate I have for you Harts," the evil glint in her eyes had started showing and I wasn't intimidated. Not even one bit. More focused on recollecting my self-defence moves.

"It's unbound."

Of course it was. I'd be worried if that hate was anything close to containable.

Claire Colton was second in command to Shantel Archibald, the head cheerleader of St. Theo's. They were everything glamour and then some more. Short skirts, low neck tops that gave boys a free boob-show, high heels and lots of Huda beauty three-in-one concealer. They were originally cheer-girls to the football team but sometimes their pom-poms landed on the soccer field too. Their scope for bird-watching, in addition to hot athletic boys in tight-fitting tights, had been extended to St. Theo's soccer Gods too.

But with Claire, it wasn't just that. It was never just that.

Claire had slept with half the boys in school, including the Broody Brothers (obviously on different occasions, I suppose). For the most part, she was Caleb's play-thing. She liked to sleep, he liked to sleep. So they decided to sleep with each other. Only, when they finally shared a bed, they did everything but sleep. They were a little uneducated on the concept of 'dating'; I had heard he even offered Noah a threesome. Who knows what happened to that deal. Yuck.

Moving on.

Claire hated me with a passion. The same Claire also hated Lia with a passion of equal intensity. Now let's see the reasons why she hated me.

One, since she was sort-of, maybe dating-not-dating Caleb. If Caleb hated me then you obviously wouldn't find Claire and I playing 'Ring- around-the Rosie' in the park.

Two, it always comes down to reason number one with her.

The reasons she hated Amelia - just one. Our DNA.

Walking down the halls on a Monday morning did not exactly make it on my list of 'The Ten Best Moments of My Life' but this, this was not even a close last on said list.

Gossip in St. Theo's spread faster than an epidemic of dengue. Several unknown eyes were already on me and now that Caleb's groupie and I were having a nice chat, onlookers had finally gotten their daily fix of entertainment because right down the hall, on the other end stood the grim reaper.

Nah. Just kidding. It was Caleb.

"Oh! there's Caleb! Come. Say hi, Thea!" she chirped, smirking like the devil that she was as she skipped in his direction, the natural crimson of my cheeks fading and now forgotten.

Racoon eyed (Lia sure packed a hard punch), all time O-limp-ic champion (let's just say, his tact at copulation would suck for a while) Caleb Ridgewood. Man, was he a sight. But the fact that he was marching painfully towards us didn't exactly give me butterflies in the stomach.

As much as I didn't want to see him, I didn't want him to see me more. But let's face it- when had I ever gotten what I wanted? N-E-V-E-R. I had earned his murderous glare all to myself and by that I mean if looks could kill, I would be dying on repeat. He was staring hard and straight, stomping his foot and probably planning the two hundred and twenty ninth way he could actually wipe out my existence. Claire's ombre hair bounced up and down as she tried to latch on to him, only to be pushed away. The guy had his priorities set - I just happened to be it.

Not going to lie, this was getting creepy now. Thankfully, the 0.001 per cent luck that I actually did have sprang up in the form of Lucas Roe who slapped him on the back of his head, creating a subtle distraction. Luke's little lingering smirk was my indication and I scampered away, throwing him a grateful smile. This was just Monday morning.

By the time the day came to an end, I desperately wished that I were an animagus - a rat to be specific, so that I could dig myself a hole to lie in comfortably. Please don't judge me because I like Harry Potter. I promise I'm a cool girl.

Tuesday was a little more relaxed. No Claire.

No Caleb. World History with Noah was surprisingly bearable and no, we didn't slip into detention again.

Nathaniel Knight acknowledged my presence every now and then, his little smile that he threw my way was enough proof of that surreal fact. But of course, that's not why Tuesday was a good day. It just was. I'd say Nathaniel was an added bonus. Apparently, letting him pay for my waffles was the best decision I had ever made for myself. One, I didn't have pay a dime. Two, I had four pieces, four. Covered in Nutella, dripping in chocolate syrup, strawberry, whipped cream and, *drum roll please*, ice-cream!

Silly nicknames, timid smiles. What next?

Slowly, way too slowly for my liking, Wednesday approached - a bland morning, Nathaniel, no sign of the evil bunnies, a tutoring session with Noah. Nathaniel.

The graph of the number of appearances Nathaniel made in one day plotted against my better judgement was disproportionate and didn't make sense to me at all. I wasn't saying that I was happy to see him everywhere I went, but for some odd reason I wasn't exactly minding it either.

Noah and I were sitting in the library- the usual tutoring. But obviously that's not what we were actually discussing. Our topic of discussion was the end of my spectrum of intelligence - him distracting me with stupid questions like 'why the f**k is Starbucks so expensive' and a tired version of me trying to explain to him that he was rich and that he need not worry about it. Let's be honest, his father could buy him the whole franchise for his birthday if Noah asked for it.

"It's offensive, how I remember your birthday and you don't remember mine," he pouted playfully, dropping his pencil on the wooden table in front of us.

"Shut up."

"Truth hurts, Hart," he sniggered as I pushed his arm away at the same time I turned my head to the sound of a throat being cleared right behind me.

"Mind if I sit here?"

Nathaniel Knight. My eyes collided with the calmness, in his stormy grey eyes, all questions forgotten. Every part of him demonstrated confidence. I didn't even think he realised how intimidating he was sometimes. Obviously, I wasn't as intimidated. That would actually mean that it bothered me. But we know that that was just ridiculous, right?

My ECG just peaked and I didn't know if it was medically possible for a human to stay alive if my heartbeat was faster than Sea biscuit, the horse.

Wait. Sea biscuit is dead.

Ugh. Bad analogy.

Right now, if you asked me, I wouldn't know what sense I was making. In my defence, general knowledge was not my cup of pumpkin latté.

I was just glad this never made its way out of my mouth.

"There are other tables around," Noah's voice pierced through the lubb-dupp ringing in my ears. Noah was exactly like I had left him before I dived into my mind - sniggering, smirking and totally asking for a black-eyes

"Empty ones," he said, going heavy on the teasing smirk.

And that lasted for only five seconds. Five seconds was record time; at the end of which, Noah Stark had achieved more targets than a dartboard. Nathaniel glared at him so hard that poor Noah has already moved his backpack aside, a sullen look now plastered where his smirk had previously laid. His eyes were permanently stuck to page eighty-seven, re-reading the same sentence over and over again, refusing to look elsewhere. All because of one murderous glare from a certified jerk.

Nate plopped down in the seat right opposite Noah and I, working his way coolly as he retrieved his homework from his black Nike backpack. Now I wasn't staring or anything, but his hair was gelled perfectly - no man bangs, a perfectly done quiff that didn't stand too tall on his head, just the right height for his oblong face. His fingers looked rugged and delicate at the same time, holding a pencil in between the index and thumb.

The light, almost unnoticeable creases on his forehead was a clear indication of how concentrated and frustrated and bored he looked. Believe it or not, his perfect pink lips even formed into a small pout every now and then. Noah had already left, so it was just us now. The pages of my novel were sitting exposed in front of me - just not good enough to hold my attention right now.

"Quit staring."

Blood rushed to my cheeks in embarrassment, as his pink lips smirked that annoying smirk. One that I always had a hard time wiping out of my mind.

"I am not!" I shot back, picking up the remaining pieces of my self-control. I leaned back into my chair, hiding me face behind my book. Okay, fine. At first I was staring at him for like two seconds, but then I slipped into my thoughts and forgot to move my eyes away. Period.

"It's okay, I stare at you too sometimes."

Quick. Someone get me a strawberry milkshake. I need to choke on it so I can die a sweet death. At least then my post-mortem report would give cause of death asphyxia instead of 'arrhythmia due to the antics of a cute jerk'. That was a lapse in judgement, feel free to eliminate 'cute' from said statement.

For ten whole minutes, I avoided looking out of the scope of the book which was held right in front of my face. My cheeks just wouldn't stop flushing every time his words played in my head.

A little peak wouldn't hurt, I guess.

So I did. To no surprise, I found him still very much focused on his workbook, but the only glitch was that moronic smile on his stupidly handsome face.

Handsome? I think I meant horrendous.

Yeah, yeah. His stupidly han- I mean horrendous face.

"What's that smile?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows in suspicion of what he would say next. Not anything cute, I hope. Too much niceness from him in a day was bad for my health. Hell, this was too much for a whole month.

"What smile?" He looked up, throwing the 'I'm-such-an-innocent-little-boy' my way, the smile still put. I knew better than to fall for that little glint of innocence when I could locate a chest of mischief behind those grey irises.

"That smile," I pointed out to his lips, placing my fat book on the table, a little too loudly for even my liking. It slipped out of my hand; I didn't do it on purpose.

"Geez Shortcake, it's a library," he winced playfully, the mischief now emanating towards me. I smiled back sarcastically.

"Like you care about library ethics."

"Don't be surprised if I do," he shrugged, scribbling back into his notebook, the teasing smile not fading a bit.

"Face it, Nathaniel," I got up, shoving my book harshly into my VS bag, getting ready to leave. "You have no ethics."

"I knew this was a bad idea," he breathed out dramatically, muttering under his breath. Ouch.

"Happy realisation."

Even in all his rare playfulness, his words pricked my heart, which was more than the effect I thought they would have on me. I walked out, preventing a humiliating outburst of my emotions that he wouldn't care about, saving some of them from being walked on all over again. I was over-reacting, some would say. I knew I was; it was a joke after all. His tone, his manner, everything about it depicted the same. But some words can still hurl you back into the windstorm you have just made your way out of.

A hand yanked me back, Nate's fresh and familiar scent filling up my nostril. The scent that I was trying hard to abhor but in vain.

"It was a joke, Thea." He pleaded.

"A joke, alright," I snorted, jerking my hand away and stepping back. There wasn't a single living soul outside the library; it wasn't even dark yet but it still felt like it had been a long day.

"Speaking of jokes, pray do tell how our friendship turned into one for you," I narrowed my eyes at him, looking straight into his stormy grey orbs. I was looking for something in them, anything.

"Not now, Thea." His tone held an urgency, a touch of warning lacing his undertone as if asking me to take a hint. Like wind on a rainy day, his breathing subsequently picked up speed; irregular and a little deeper.

"Why not?" I took two steps, closing in on the space between us to make my point clearer and better understood. No matter how much I tried to get above and over it, the last two years couldn't just leave my mind. It sounded worse when I put my thoughts into words and conversations, but to me it was what it was. And it wasn't good, especially if it compelled me to pull out my sass card. "You were bad at making conversations anyway, right? So let me help you out a bit here."

"Here's how it'll go - you will either start with what had exactly happened that day, two years ago right now or until you can figure that out, we are nothing." I turned around, ready to walk away from him.

"But we aren't nothing," his whisper cut through the whoosh of the pacey breeze, making me halt in my tracks, just after I had taken two breaths into my new resolution.

"Nate..."

"Thirty days."

His calloused fingers burned my skin, turning me around to face the distress bluntly written all over his face. I furrowed my brows, waiting for the words to be explained. He sucked in a deep breath, one of many he had had, before continuing.

"I want you to give me thirty days. Thirty days of us - you and me, exactly like we used to be. Ice-cream dates, picnics in the park, anything and everything we used to do before..." he paused, gauging the confusion on my face before continuing.

"If, at the end of these thirty days, you think you can forgive me for being such a royal f**k-up, then...then I promise...I promise I will tell you everything. The truth. Whatever you want to know."

"But, if you think that I don't deserve a second chance with you, then I promise you that...I will never show you my face again."