Recap of the last chapter for your own sanity:

Slater finds Quorra passed out over her desk after overworking herself. Slater calls Lara over Skype and tells her about it. The call ends mysteriously as Lara reveals that there is something she has been meaning to tell Quorra. Slater and Quorra have a long chat about her unhealthy situation and Slater makes Quorra agree to eating one meal per day with him. The chapter ends as they get in an argument where Quorra insists that he can't relate to her because he has always had the perfect life. Slater leaves the room quietly.

Okay, read on! I'm sorry if you still don't remember what has happened so far.

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I comb through my eyelashes with a final coat of mascara before putting the wand back in the tube, applying a swipe of lip balm, and turning around to face Hannah.

"Okay, how do I look?" I ask, plastering a grin across my face for a moment until I spot her expression.

I stop pressing my lips together and look at her warily.

"What's wrong?"

Her glittering, emerald eyes have lost their sparkle as she stares at me, as if trying to decipher a complex code. After a thick silence, she speaks, "I should be asking you that, Quorra. Your parents are coming to visit, but you don't need to impress them. If you're working hard, it should be for yourself, and besides, your definition of 'working hard' has gone a little too far."

"Hannah, don't you dare go there. All I've been doing lately is getting lectured by everyone. I thought you were my friend," I repeat for what feels like the trillionth time in the last month, "Every single day is just argument after argument. Can no-one just treat me like a normal person?"

She looks twice as upset as me.

"I am your friend," she insists, the hurt laced in her tone telling me that she took offence that I would even suggest otherwise, "that's why I'm so worried about you, Quo."

My unfiltered reply comes straight after, sharp as a knife, "Don't be, I can take care of myself. Leave if all you want to do is trick me into reverting back to my old, worthless self."

And she does.

"For the record," she says, hand resting on the doorknob, as she turns back to me with faltering light reflected in her eyes, "You look beautiful."

The door clicks shut behind her, a bitter reminder of her absence.

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I fiddle with the bottom of my plaid dress nervously, the ruffled edge doing little to distract me from the anxiety in my blood.

My parents will be here any time now.

Their instructions were to get dressed in something pretty yet casual and meet them in the park near the university.

Eyes fixated on my chainmail watch, I barely blink as the seconds dawdle by, every tick! of the tiny device audible, even amidst the background chatter of the children surrounding me.

My mind can't help but wonder to the events of yesterday. They make me feel sick to my stomach as I recall Slater leaving the room without a word.

"Quorra, honey?"

I look up, snapped out of my daze as quickly as lightning strikes, and offer my parents a dazzling (-ly fake) grin.

"Hey," I greet, standing up to meet them, "How are you?"

They seem startled by my friendliness, and I am too, as I stop the voice in the back of my mind from uncovering my true reaction to their proximity.

"We're doing fine, but, darling - you look gorgeous! Have you lost weight?" my mum asks, eyes wide with excitement at my 180 degree personality rotation.

I abruptly beam, glad that someone is appreciating my recent efforts, and realise that my fake smile has turned genuine.

Wow, my initial drive to prove them wrong has only turned out for the better.

They like me now.

I reply gratefully, "Thank you, you and dad look good too."

We head to a local restaurant, both my parents gushing over my 'feminine and casual' choice of clothing's perfect match with my 'newly-sophisticated' personality. By the time we arrive, all three of us are laughing and catching up with recent events.

"Yeah, we have been Skyping often. She seems to be doing well," I state, filling in my parents on my relationship with Lara.

They reply with a wordless smile, and we soon find ourselves seated at a circular table towards the back of the restaurant. It is considerably quiter here, and not many others are seated in this dimmed area apart from a sparse few. I take advantage of the comfortable silence between my parents and I, and glance at the individuals.

A young couple resides on the table next to us, their elated expressions mirrors of each other as their eyes twinkle with the excitement of newfound love. The dark-haired male leans over the small rounded table to whisper something in his partner's ear. I find myself half wanting to place a hand over my heart and half wanting to place one over my mouth - aw.... but ew.

An elderly man sits a few more tables away from us, relaxed in a cushioned booth. A grey-haired woman, who I presume is his wife, sits across from him. He shares a sweet smile with her. I can't help but reflect the same expression. Love really is timeless, I think to myself.

Maybe it's about time you find yours, my conscience prods.

I roll my eyes internally. I'm only eighteen.

So? I'm getting bored, you know.

I zone back in on my own situation as my dad speaks up, "So, Quorra, I must say I'm quite impressed. I expected to visit today and see you crumbling under pressure and your own... well, stupidity. I'm glad to see you thriving in your work environment. It looks like all you needed was a push from us."

Slightly surprised at his admission, I reply with authentic gratitude, "Oh, thank you. I agree, I'm really happy that you pushed me to do this. My grades are really looking up, I'm sure you'll see for yourself soon."

A waiter approaches as my parents skim the menu and I leave it aside, but just as he is about to greet us, he turns around, called by someone at the table behind us.

"Ah, excuse me, could I get another glass of..."

I mentally tune out the rest of the sentence as my brains pinpoints the owner of that smooth-as-chocolate, velvety voice.

This is the last thing I need right now.

Especially after yesterday.

I look up and, as expected, meet the gaze of Slater. He looks shocked, and barely manages to finish his sentence as the waiter walks off to fetch his glass of who-knows-what.

Just as he begins to mouth the beginning of my name, I shake my head and try to communicate my desperation with my eyes.

Don't you dare come over here, I try to telepathically tell him.

He just looks confused and slightly disturbed at my concentrated expression, and pursues his initial plan of getting up and wandering over to my table. His gaze locks on my parents and the tenacity in it only grows stronger as his eyes narrow.

He shows no signs of bringing up yesterday, but appears to want nothing more than to shred my parents to pieces.

Oh, fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Someone is about to get a lecturing and it's not going to be English related.

I turn back around quickly and paste on a neutral face as my parents give me a suspicious look.

"Are you alright, Quorra?"

"Oh, I'm perfectly-"

Slater stops beside me.

"-fine..."

Really? Of all places we could have gone to eat, we chose this place? Why? And him, of all people, it just had to be him...

"Hello, Mr and Mrs Neversea. Quorra," he addresses, the formality in his tone not unlike his usual approach.

My parents look puzzled for a few seconds, before the jigsaw pieces connect in their heads.

Wait.

Wasn't the last time they saw him when-

"David," my dad crosses his arms over his chest haughtily.

This day could not get better.

My cheeks grow as heated as my palms as I nervously pin my hands under my legs, eyes darting between everyone in front of me. I wish I could just disappear into the walls.

Slater appears confused at the name but I shoot him a glare composed of daggers that I hope stabs awake some of his memory. Recognition glimmers in his eyes.

"Ah yes, about that," he begins, as I gape at what is about to unfold, "See, that event was rather-"

"-spontaneous," I quickly fill in, standing up and slapping a broad smile onto my paling face.

I rise to my feet and stand next to Slater, trying (and failing) to look like anything but awkward.

"David and I have been-"

"Caught up in a misunderstanding," Slater intercepts, something I know he hates doing, as the glint in his dark eyes tells me that he's just as determined to get the truth across as I am to keep it buried.

"My actual name is Professor Slater Hartley. I teach at the university your daughter attends," he states before I can throw myself off the aide of the nearest cliff.

My mum is the first to react.

"Excuse me? Quorra, is this not the David we found in your bed on our first visit?" she demands incredulously, looking at me for answers.

I remain speechless, jaw unhinged as my eyes flit from person to person.

Luckily, or rather, unluckily, Slater is prepared with a response.

"I appreciate that this may be confusing. If you allow me to sit with you I shall explain everything to my greatest ability," he offers professionally, his passive expression the polar opposite of my numbed state.

My dad scoffs in disbelief, "Are you serious right now? Why should we let you sit with us?"

"Actually," Slater replies as I silently dare him to say what I know he is about to say next, "Quorra and I have a formal agreement that we will eat one meal together per day, therefore I feel somewhat obliged to seize this opportunity."

If not already taken aback by his unique personality, my parents are stunned into a silence by the reveal of our one-meal-per-day deal.

Slater takes the lack of a reply as his permission to take a seat, and politely seats himself in the chair next to me.

"Please, allow me to explain," he begins while I take in a deep breath and prepare myself for what may be the longest evening of my life.

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I angrily shut my dorm room door behind me, kicking off my stupidly dainty shoes and falling onto my bed just as the door reopens.

"Quorra, I-"

"i just don't get why you had to butt in at all!" I growl, fingernails digging crescents into my palms as I push myself back against my bed's headboard and cross my arms.

Slater slips off his shoes carefully and sits down on his bed, "Believe me, it was necessary, Quorra."

"Okay, just stop! First of all, stop with the whole patronising 'Quorra' tone! It's so infuriating that you think I'm so beneath you. Second, stop assuming that every thought that pops into your mind is pure gold and is automatically the correct decision! Third of all- oh my god, can you stop?! Stop looking so calm when I'm clearly not, because you're making me look immature! Ugh!"

I throw myself back against the wall with enough force to send a middle-aged man flying.

"Ow," I mumble.

A silence passes for a while, the only sound I hear being the throbbing heartbeat resonating in my ears like the buzz of a bee. As usual, Slater chooses his words carefully and selects each syllable from his limitless vocabulary with ease.

He lifts his eyes to mine as I maintain my sharp glare.

"I don't want every conversation of ours to be a fight, Quorra. I intercepted because I know, almost for a fact, what they were telling you at that table," he says, exterior completely serene even thought part of me knows that he is fuming inside.

I seethe audibly, "Oh yeah? What then?" I prod accusingly.

He ignores my attempts at provoking any real emotion from him, "They were telling you that you look better than ever and studying a lot harder is doing good for you."

I don't know why I feel so surprised. I also don't know why I let it show on my face. And yet, not one gram of smugness resides on Slater's chiselled face.

"That conversation with your parents needed to happen. It's good, now they know the truth. This, if anything, will allow you to grow even closer to them later on," he tries to convince.

I try to breathe through my frustration, "You don't get it. They are never going to want to call me their daughter ever again. All of this was for nothing."

"Why are you trying to prove yourself to people who ask so much of you?"

The question takes me off guard. I don't have a snarky reply prepared.

"Well that's been my entire life."

Slater looks at me, my words sinking in. For my sake, he pushes them aside.

"Things will look up now. I want what is best for you, Quorra," he promises.

I break our locked gazes, dull eyes fixating on the wall beside me, "Yeah, just as you would any other student."

I bite my tongue as soon as I say it.

"Sorry," I mutter.

He remains wordless, and I start to wonder if he even understands the meaning behind my sudden confession. Why did I even say that?

"I just feel like everyime we talk, we end up in a deep conversation, or one of us ends up hating the other. So pretty much, we just come out of it exhausted and feeling shitty as fuck. Maybe we should just not talk then," I force out through a tight jaw, the sinking sensation in my chest telling me that that is the last thing I truly want.

"We both know that is not what either of us want."

Oh thank god.

I look over at him, seeing my internal battle reflected in his own eyes.

"Yeah, I know," I mumble reluctantly.

Slater sighs and runs a hand through his hair, "Alright then. Let's be civil from now on, like how we used to be."

Something about that sentence irks me, urging me to reply bitterly.

"Fine then, Professor Hartley."

●（=｀～'=） ●

My exams are over!! YAAAAAAAAY. I only did terribly on some of them, so that's an achievement lol.

I'm hoping to update a lot more frequently now, but I'm actually going on a long holiday this Friday so I might be too busy to write often. Nonetheless, you won't have to wait another 7 weeks for an update for sure.

I just really don't want writing to become a chore for me, and I don't want to be only writing to please others. I still love writing but I also adore playing my instruments and all my other hobbies too, so I must come up with some sort of timetable for all of them.

Thank you so much for your patience - yes, you!

I love you guys, I'll try update as soon as I can but no promises

Over and out,
Agent Spud 🥔

P.S I should probably start packing lel