[Dame's Rocket]: deceit, rivalry

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The first two weeks of school pass so quickly I don't even notice, honestly. It's all too hectic - new professors, subjects, and assignments. A whole, exciting mess.

There is this unsettling and yet exciting tiny little thing though.

Turns out, my FORMER acquaintance aka the very infamous Connor Black and I have all the same classes.

Name any of my ARCH classes, and he's in it, but that's not all. He's in my minors too. He's everywhere around me.

So, I guess he IS still into architecture after all.

I still don't really know how I'm going to completely ignore his infamous ass (especially when it's a nice one, while we are at it), but I'm willing to try.

I walk into the auditorium of our last class and roll my eyes at Connor when I spot him. He's, of course, sitting at the very back of the class with two of his friends that seem to be around him a lot.

These two and that pair of redhead twins that remind me of George and Fred Weasley, seem to be the only people he actually talks to once in a while. Everyone else at school seems to keep their distance as if they're actually scared of him.

Well, except some older fangirls, that follow him everywhere. I've heard people whisper about him having sex with girls from senior classes during breaks, but I'm happy I haven't witnessed any of his conquests. I'd surely throw up at the sight, so for now, I like to believe that all those rumors are just that - rumors.

I walk up to one of the vacant seats at the very front of the room, trying to be as far away from him as possible.

We haven't talked after our so interesting and not awkward chat two weeks ago at the cafeteria, nor have we acknowledged each other with a simple nod when passing by.

We do really, completely ignore each other, as if we don't even exist. Except my eyes are always following him when he's alone. Which, to be honest, doesn't happen a lot.

He's showing up in my thoughts at random times though, and I can't count how many times I've sketched those eyes. It feels like I'm possessed.

He's that bad, unhealthy idea that won't leave my head no matter how hard I try to quit it.

Opening my notes I start to revise the material or more likely to pretend I'm doing it, to ignore his presence.

When the class finally starts I'm almost ready to stand up and sing "Hallelujah". Everything after that goes as it's supposed to. We discuss territorial planning and geography, and I bet he enjoys the discussion about destroying nature and building shopping malls in their place.

Monster!

I bet he loves destroying things, even more now.

The thought makes me want to see his face again (like I need any reason for that, duh).

Like the genius that I'm, I start to play with my pencil between my fingers. I pretend to drop it on the floor, and when it lends next to my feet, I bend a little, to pick it up. As I do so, my eyes casually travel around the back of the room, before they land on him.

And holy! He's already watching me. His green eyes sparkle across the room, as he raises a questioning brow at me.

This time, I decide to not back off, so I just hold his gaze, daring him to look away first.

He doesn't.

Instead, a small smirk crosses his face, as he leans back in his seat, and stares at me with a "be my guest" expression on his face.

I see his friends carry on with their conversation, quietly so the instructor doesn't notice. But he doesn't join them. He's just... looking at me with those haunting eyes of his like foreplay.

"Your friends," I mouth to him across the room, and he seems to read my lips because he shrugs relaxed.

"Your class," he says instead, pointing at the instructor with his chin.

I shrug the way he did, just when I notice the rest of the class gather their stuff to leave.

I look around the room confused, to see the instructor halfway out the door already, and I can't believe I was so into our... weird staring contest, that I didn't hear her dismiss the class.

What the hell, Mia?

I definitely need to clear my head tonight and get back on track.

There's only one way I can do it, but I haven't done it for a while for reasons, I'm not ready to say out loud even in my head. But HE... he, makes me want to do my ballet therapy again.

My heart beating violently under my chest, I jump out of my seat as if I'm on fire, gather my shit as ungracefully as possible, and run out of the room, my baby blue sundress floating over my legs.

Once I'm inside my car, I take a deep breath and rest my head against the steering wheel for a couple of minutes to calm down my heartbeat.

The scent of citrus that I keep in my car slowly help my feet touch the ground again.

After a couple of minutes, I turn on the ignition and am about to pull out of the parking lot, when I hear someone tap the window of the passenger's seat.

Looking up, I see Connor leaning on my car, knocking on the window with his pointer finger impatiently.

The whole point of it was to run away from him, and here he's again.

Is it his mission to make my heart burst out of my chest for good? Does he hate me this much?

I take my time to roll down the window slowly, curious as to what he's doing here.

His eyes!

What does he really want?

His eyes, goddamn it!

Does he think he wasn't clear enough the last time?

Look at those eyes, Mia! A complete swoon!

Why is he here?

His eyes, his eyes, his eyes! I need to take a picture of them, so I can paint them today and actually make justice to the view.

STOP, YOU DUMB PATHETIC FISH! My consciousness kicks my butt.

"Fucking finally," he mumbles under his breath, once the window is halfway down.

"For a guy who doesn't want to be seen with me, you sure as hell like stalking me." I snap at him as soon as the window is fully rolled down, ignoring my weakness that is his eyes.

"Big sentences aren't your thing. Unlock the door," he tells, me his voice cold, and yet so, so beautiful.

Oh, well, my head really should get the memo of him hating me.

"I don't let strangers into my car."

"Unlock the damned door, Mia. And I'm not going to ask twice."

"Do you think this is asking?"

"We have to talk." He ignores my question, going on.

"I'm busy, so feed your own ego somewhere else." I snap at him.

"My ego has been over the fucking clouds since forever. But that's not something I want to talk about with you."

I raise a brow, waiting for him to say more, but I never get anything. Instead he glares at me annoyed, his head tilted to the left and an eyebrow raised.

I give in, my curiosity winning again. But eh, who am I kidding, I always give in, when it's him.

He gets into my Mini Cooper gracefully and closes the door behind him, rolling up the window. His tall frame takes all the small space in my tiny car, making me realize just how tall he actually is.

"How the hell you drive this car?" he complains to himself, and I'm about to laugh at his annoyed tone, that I haven't heard for years. I remember I really shouldn't though, so I hold back.

He stares in front of him, his eyes wandering around the parking lot, as he cuts to the main topic.

"How long have you been seeing the dork?"

The second the words are out of his mouth, my eyes widen in surprise.

Okay, talk about awkward.

Never in million years, would I think this is something he'd ask now. Who does he think he is to even ask me this? To make me wonder why's he interested. To make me have hope.

"I don't think it's any of your business." I mumble.

He turns his head to me and looks me in the eye to make sure his next insult hits home.

"You don't think at all if you're still fucking him."

My mouth hangs open in disbelief, but again I don't back away. I've never been one to do it, especially when it's him.

"Wow," I breathe out, faking an amused expression on my face and clapping enthusiastically in front of his face.

He stares at me not-so-impressed, even mad now, but I don't give a damn.

"The rumors ARE true. You really are a world-class asshole." I go on, with my face serious for the next part. "But unless your name is Google, stop pretending you know everything."

"But I do, Mia." He says gravely, and his wicked glance actually makes me shiver for a second. "I know so many things about your little boyfriend, you'd be surprised. It's SCANDALOUS, I think you'll love it." He stresses the word I used to use all the time when I was a kid.

But what the hell? How and why in the world is he interested in Jack? And could he be really telling the truth?

Right now, I don't see a reason for him to lie, but I really don't know the mature him, so I'm not sure.

"You're not making any sense," I mumble confused. "If you know something, then spill it, if no, just get out of my car, Connor, and don't act like a boring commercial."

He doesn't say anything for a while, just stares at me with an amused expression on his face. I can tell, by the way he's looking at me, that his brain is working hard on something.

"I want to make you squirm a little." He says obviously proud of himself, before opening the door of his side and getting out. He slams the door on my face, as my eyes follow his back across the parking lot.

What was that? I keep seating still, processing his words.

Does he really think he can just show up out of nowhere and throw a question at me like this and then make me question Jack? Does he think I'm dying to talk to him and will get excited every time his attention shifts on me just a little?

It takes me another second to turn the engine on again and pull out of the parking lot.

My cellphone goes off once I'm on the main road, and even though it's an unfamiliar number, I decide to pick it up.

"I'm going to have so much fun watching you crash, Jones." I hear his dark voice on the other end of the line and swallow the lump in my throat.

Breathe Mia, breathe.

Count to ten, before swearing, count to ten.

Though I can always aim for infinity with him.

"Don't worry, once I'm down, I'm taking my childhood best friend with me, which, news flash, is YOU!" I tighten my grip on the wheel, waiting for his answer, my eyes on the road.

"Still trying to act all brave and mighty, aren't we?" He continues with a serious tone. "Wonder if you'll try to fake it when I see you break."

"I think you should know something, Connor. You can't destroy me. I destroy me. So, sure, be my guest. I can't wait to see you try."

And then I end the call and throw my phone in the backseat.

Did I just hang up on Trouble? Oh, hell yeah, I did.

Furious, I drive back home, almost skipping a couple of red lights.  I don't eat anything or dance the way my feet are aching to, instead, I decide to drown myself in my sketches again.

If our angsty back and forth is going to help me finish this project sooner, I might even thank him later.

But what did he mean by all of the nonsense he spat out about Jack?

What does Connor actually know? What is it, that he thinks will destroy me? And most importantly why does he want to see me crawl?

Is it because of the never answered calls and letters? Is it because I cut him off of my life without a word?

If so, then surely I can take responsibility for it, but he has a bigger role in this mess than he thinks he does. His role is major.

His voice keeps repeating in my head like a broken record throughout the whole day.

He remembers how curious I always am, and he threw me a bait to torture me.

And how in the world did he even find my number?

Luckily, I don't overthink it the whole day, since my favorite person in the world shows up with a pizza.

"Knock, knock." I breathe out in relief when I hear Syd's voice from the other side of the door. "I said knock, knock," Syd says again and actually knocks two times when I don't answer.

Well, I might as well go along with her favorite activity.

"Who is there?" I ask before starting to unlock the door.

"Some," Syd answers already prepared.

"Some who?" I open the door and as she gets in, she answers "Some bitch telling you a knock-knock joke."

I roll my eyes at her as we move to the living room.

"How did you come up with that one?" I ask throwing myself on the couch and so does she.

"You know there is this thing called the Internet. You would know if you checked your Facebook once in a while. Seriously," She goes on as I give her a look of disapproval. "You are like the most antisocial person I have ever known."

"I'm not antisocial, I'm anti-internet. Although, I'm quite active on Instagram."

"Yeah, yeah. You're my Instagram Queen." She says, meaning it. She's always been in love with my posts on the platform, and if I'm being completely honest with myself, I'm in love with them too. I love posting landscapes and some of my designs, as well as some aesthetics with greenery.

"Hey, by the way, have you heard the latest rumors?" Trust Syd to change the subject in a blink of an eye.

"Nope, and I'm absolutely not interested," I say opening the box, the smell of pizza making my stomach sing like a church choir.

"Rumor has it..." She starts, her eyes full of fire.

"I said, NOT INTERESTED!" I try to cut her off, but she ignores me.

"A couple of days ago, Trouble beat up some guy from our Modern Lit class. His name's Isaac. You might remember him - tall, broad shoulders, blonde hair, cute. One of the dudes that always sits in the back."

No, I don't. Because apparently, a certain prick's existence is all I notice these days.

"It's probably just a rumor," I mumble, taking a bite, but inside I'm burning. He couldn't have, could he?

"But Isaac hasn't shown up since then." She argues.

"Well, I don't know, he might just be sick or something. Look, Syd, if Connor did really beat him up so bad that he can't even show up to classes, don't you think he would already be locked up?"

"His father is a prosecutor, for crying out loud. He wouldn't let his son stay in prison. And Connor? Since when are you calling him by his name?"

"What? Can't I?" I try to answer without a pause. The thing is, Syd doesn't know him. She's never seen him before because when she first moved in to our school, he was already miles away from me. "The guy has a freaking name, Sydney."

When she stares at me, with one eyebrow raised confused, I glare at her.

"What?" I mumble, placing my pizza down.

Did she maybe remember him from the photographs in my room? Come on, she couldn't. He is almost unrecognizable, save for his haunting eyes.

"You're being suspiciously protective of him, Mia."

I chuckle, hoping it doesn't sound as desperate as I'm feeling. I don't want to share our story with her yet. I don't want to tell her things, Connor doesn't want anyone to know, so I won't let anyone know him. Even if I'm dying to share it with her.

"Trust me, I'm not."

"You're telling the truth, aren't you? There can't be anything going on with him."

"Absolutely. You know, I don't usually go looking for Trouble," I stress the last word, and she chuckles, appreciating my reference.

Yeah, Trouble usually finds me...