Her

04

PHOENIX

Thursday. 9am. I'm sitting in psychology class, another class I share with Aza and another class where I'm sitting next to her. It turns out that we pretty much have identical timetables. Xander sat next to me in all of our classes, which means the seat next to mine is now the one that has to be taken by Aza. So far she has sat next to me in all of my classes except for three. One of them was French, which Xander didn't take, another one was drama, which she doesn't take, and the other one was, well, gym.

I'm not sure what I think of her. Clearly she's quite a confident person, which, I have to admit, I find a little intriguing. However, she also seems to like to annoy me, which, well, annoys me. She's also unusually pretty, but that's a fact I try to block out. I'm also not sure what she thinks of me. Sometimes I get the feeling she really enjoys annoying me, and I can't tell if that means she doesn't like me or if it means she likes me, if that makes sense. I try not to think about it too much. After all, she's just a girl who sits next to me in class, a girl who, I'm sure, will eventually leave. In the end, they all do.

Right now, we're supposed to complete a worksheet together with the person sitting next to us, which means I am working on my own and Aza is also working on her own. All of the other students are working with each other, loudly discussing the text.

"Can you stop trying to copy my answers?"

"I'm not doing that, why would I? I'm smarter than you are, princess."

"Then stop peeking at my sheet."

Aza clicks her pen.

"And stop clicking that stupid pen."

She's been clicking her pen multiple times for a while now, trying to annoy me. So far I have ignored it, knowing that if I react to it, she won't stop doing it. Now that I have commented on it, she does exactly that. She clicks her pen, a smirk on her face.

"Stop it," I hiss at her.

"Or else what?"

Aza clicks her pen another time, thinking she has won. She moves her chair and leans forward, towards me, and rests one of her forearms on the desk. Her face is close to mine, her eyes are staring into mine. Once again I realise how pretty her brown eyes are. They remind me of dark chocolate. Bitter, but sweet. For a moment she just stares at me. I feel my heart beating a little faster against my chest. I'm sure it's because she's so close to me and therefore invading my private space. But if so, why do I not feel uncomfortable?

She holds up her pen so that it's right in front of my face. Then she clicks it. I stop thinking and slap it out of her hand. It lands on the floor, a row in front of us.

"Oops," I say. "My hand must have slipped."

"I think mine might too."

"Oh, you're going to hit me?"

"I might."

"Well, go ahead then." Now it's me who leans forward. "I'm waiting."

I have no idea what she's thinking. Maybe she's actually considering to hit me, and maybe she's actually about to do it. The only thing she does is stare at me. The air around us feels weirdly electrified. There's a heat, and with each passing second it's growing. It's like a fire, spreading, growing bigger and bigger. My heart is beating, fast and faster.

"You dropped your pen, Aza."

Sean Herrington has turned around in his chair. He sets Aza's pen on the desk, a grin on his face.

She blinks at him. Then she says, "Thanks."

"Anytime." A grin. "So," he says, "I'm having a party this Friday. You should come."