Clara had always loved numbers. Numbers are consistent and predictable. They have rules and they never change. She had that in common with them. She found comfort in structure, and that is why she decided to take an advantaced coding class. While most students take art or pottery as an elective, Clara prefers to dive deep into advanced math, chemistry and computer science for a challenge. Most of the students in the class have a demanding major and strenuous workload.
But, if this class was mostly for engineers, techies, and the otherwise non-social types… Why was he here? Was he a brainiac like her? Clara's eyes twinkled at the thought. He didn't look like the techy type but in fairness, neither did Clara.
She watched the black haired stranger as he glided into the classroom and went straight to the professor's desk which was at the corner of the room, away from the murmuring of students. She leaned in and strained her ears but couldn't decipher their conversation. She formulated a quick plan and when she felt satisfied with it she made her way to the professor's desk.
She stopped when she was right behind the mysterious stranger. To a passerby, it would look as though she was innocently waiting for a chance to talk to the professor, not wanting to interrupt. What she was actually doing was watching and listening intently with her hands behind her back.
When he spoke, it warmed Clara's body with every word. His voice was deep and bassy- yet quiet. An unexpected English accent slipped through his perfectly white teeth and he pronounced every syllable neatly. His tousled, raven black hair gently brushed his neck.
"…ok, so you're a late add to the class?" The professor was mid-sentence when Clara arrived but she could figure out that the dark-haired boy was joining the class.
Clara observed that underneath his fitted black shirt, he was lean but not overly muscular, just her type. She sighed. The only article of clothing on him that was not black were his shoes that were a peculiar bright white, with not a spot of dirt or scuff mark on them. She also noticed that he was very well dressed but not obnoxiously so. Practical yet stylishly. Rocked on her heels softly.
The same heavenly fresh cedar and maple leaf smell hung around him, and Clara inhaled a deep breath of it. Even in his emaculantcy, he had an aura about him that spoke what he did not; he hadn't a care in world of what people thought of him. A bad boy in one of the most advanced classes available. Being in his proximity made Clara's heart skip a beat.
"That is correct, I would like to submit a request to add this class, shall there be any additional room for me, of course", his accent rang like old church bells. Professor Floz's wrinkled eyes scanned his roster and then to the desks, and met back with the dark haired boy's.
"Sure, yes.... Um, have a seat anywhere, there's no assigned seating." He waived his hand to the few empty chairs that were filling up with students. "The code to add the class is on the syllabus, you can use that to register for the class online if you haven't already." He rushed his instructions, handing the boy a green slip of paper.
"You'll need a partner for the upcoming project. Uh… Oh yes, Miss Lovesteen, just the person I was thinking of. Is your partner still out with meningitis? It might be awhile until they are well enough to return, you two can partner up."
Clara's eyes widened. Just as planned. She thought with a smile.
The dark haired stranger didn't notice Clara standing behind him until now.
She was patiently poised, waiting for an opportunity to introduce herself and complain about her missing partner but this was better than what she could have hoped for.
"Hi, I'm Clara Lovesteen!" she announced with a wide, pearly white smile. She knew from experience that no boy could resist her starlight smile and she undeniably loved this game. She loved the attention of boys and seeing them act nervous or sometimes parade around like peacocks. Even though she didn't actually have time for boys or relationships, she was too busy with school to even think about dating, she loved when they think they have a chance.
"What's your name?" She inched closer, still smiling with her eyelashes lowered while inhaling his aroma. She just now noticed that his eyes looked almost black under his thick eyelashes. She bit her lip to force down a sigh and continued to slowly and seductively move closer until she was right under his chin.
"It's Cyra" he said, seemingly unwavered by Clara's invasion of space.
"That's a strange name… Cyyyra" she sang teasingly, a flirty smile on her perfectly painted pink lips.
He leaned into her closely, putting his lips to her ear, his warm breath and his intoxicating aroma filled her with euphoria. Her heart leaped and she felt dizzy. She smiled, knowing that she had already won the game.
"And yours my dear- " he whispered close in her ear.
"Yes?" She whispered back.
"Is a basic one". He walked away, leaving her standing with her mouth gaping open.
"B… basic?!"
"Wait, What just happened? Did he really just call mebasic? What does he mean by that?!" Clara thought angrily as she stomped to her seat. She slammed her bag down hard on her desk. She was livid, not a single guy had ever turned her down before, and definitely not in such a rude manner as Cyra just had.
"He doesn't even know me, how could he assume that? Me. Basic. Does he think I'm just some bimbo or something?" She scrapped her chair loudly against floor and flopped down hard. Her anger was turning into hurt and a lump grew in Clara's throat. She was determined to swallow that down and focus on the anger instead. She fumed in her seat hoping for class to be over quickly.
"Ok class, we won't have time to work on your coding project in class today, since we are not finished with yesterday's lesson. So everyone take out your laptop and finish what you were working on. Please try to find time to work with your partner outside of class." Cyra looked over to Clara, who was still fuming with her arms crossed and he sighed. Begrudgingly he turned to her.
"Look, I'm sorry. I just, I know your type too well, and... well, you're just not my type. There's no point in leading you on if nothing will progress here, don't you agree? And since we have to work together in this class, we might as well try to be civil." He seemed frank but sincere in his apology, but Clara was too infuriated to hear him.
"Your type? What do you mean you're type?!" She was nearly shouting and students were starting to stare. Cyra raised his eyebrows. He waved his hands as a vein attempt to lower her voice. He sighed again.
"So tell me, do you think I'm just a pretty face without a brain then?" She didn't care about the onlookers, she was too enraged now. She worked too hard to be overlooked by a judgmental jerk.
"What? No." Cyra laughed. "You're a... a good girl, that's all", he shrugged.
Clara was put back by his answer.
She puzzled over it for a minute before answering. "So... that's why?" Her jaw loosened and she uncrossed her arms. "Well, I hate to break it to you but I'm not that good. I curse, I argue. I drink occasionally. I'm also a little conceited."
Cyra raised one eyebrow.
"Ok,maybe I'm a lot conceited but why would you ever think that I'm an innocent little goodie good?" Clara asked looking down at her mid-thigh dress and low bustline.She lifted an eyebrow and made a scanning hand gesture at her dress to show her point.
"Do I look innoc-" she started.
"Oh no no no, definitely not. I never said innocent!" he interrupted. "I said good", he laughed, making Clara's lips tighten and her cheeks burn. Cyra noticed her irritation and laughed even harder.
"Look, Princess" he mocked, "I know your type. You arrived to class 10 minutes early, your backpack is exploding with books, your teachers in high school probably loved you, and the screen saver on the phone, the one that never leaves your hand, is picture of your equally perfect looking companion, Im guessing your best friend for life? You're covered in pink and privilege. You are your parent's dream child, am I right? Straight A+ cheerleader, peaked in high school that never maked a fuss? The perfect little princess."
Clara's rage had risen to dangerous levels. She pierced her fingernails deep into her palm, clenching her teeth. Cyra thought she might actually hit him and was disappointed when she turned away sharply instead. She sat silently, biting her lip so as not to scream at him again.
Cyra leaned towards her with a half smile. "Prove me wrong." Cyra challenged.
Clara snapped her head quickly to see Cyra smirking. He gave her a wink. Her cold blue eyes burned through him.
"Go on a date with me tomorrow. Prove to me that you aren't a goodie good who's all work and no play." He stared harder, his dark eyes pierced into her like a blade of black ice, and just as dangerous. No hint of a smile was left, just pure intensity.
"I dare you."