Due to Ivy’s rudeness back in the canteen when she asked for help she only received the same kindness. Therefore when she finally found her Media class she was the last one to arrive – late.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Ivy apologised, bowing. Shit. This is what happens when you watch too much Korean dramas. After quickly correcting her posture, embarrassed, she made her way to the available seat at the end of the second row. The class silently watched her like a hawk watches its prey, quietly sniggering to themselves. They chose her as the next meal and it would be a delicious one.
“We’ve already said our names, so would you like to introduce yourself?” the teacher asked.
He wore a green Legend of Zelda shirt and black jeans and his ginger hair was balding from the centre.
“You first.”
The teacher laughed at her proposal. “Okay, I’m Mr Green, now your turn.”
Ivy looked around nervously and twilled her thumbs. “Ivy.”
“Ivy what?” he asked.
“Must I give my surname, it’s embarrassing,” Ivy evaded.
“Yes, everyone has, wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t.”
Ivy huffed. “Ivy – Mayne.”
“I knew it!” the boy that approached her in the canteen exclaimed. “You’re her twin right?”
“No, we’re cousins.”
“Ivy if you don’t mind me asking but-” the teacher said but Ivy abruptly cut him off.
“Well I do, so don’t bother.”
An awkward silence ensued leaving him no choice but to move on. The lesson included questions that would allow him to get to know everyone in the class. Such as: Favourite songs, games, films and TV shows. Whenever Ivy would answer another student in the class would have more or less the same answer. His name was Francis.
Francis had a punkish style. His hair was spiky and dyed red and his ears pierced with a black ear stretcher. He wore a denim jacket and jeans with a Metallica shirt.
When she said her favourite TV show was Game of Thrones, he had the same answer. Favourite film: Suicide Squad, he said the same. For favourite video game: Metal Gear, she said the same. But the only thing that he didn’t agree on was favourite song, on which she answered: B.A.P – One Shot and neither did anyone one in the class. No K-poppers in here then. This is going to be a long two years.
The 1 hour 30 minute class end rather quickly than she expected and at the end of it she decided to talk to Francis on their way to the canteen.
“Hey!” she greeted. “Do you have a lesson next?”
“Yeah, Sociology,” he moaned and Ivy laughed.
“At least you have a lesson; I have to wait till 1 just for mine.”
“Your timetable sucks!” he teased.
“Tell me about it.”
Francis gulped fearfully as he opened his mouth, his palms becoming sweaty with the mere thought of how she’d react to what he’d say next. “I’m sorry for your loss, Ivy; it must be hard without your twin.”
Ivy was surprised to hear someone actually give her their condolences, so far she’s been pestered about her family and mocked by Damon. To actually hear someone that genuinely cared was refreshing.
“Thank you, every day is a trial but I’m sure I’ll get through it – somehow.”
When they arrived at the canteen they parted ways, leaving Ivy alone until lunch when they reunited and talked endlessly about video games and movies. To her surprise, not only was Francis in her Media class but her English Literature class too! Having a friend made it easier, especially when he’d defend her when people would continue to pester her about the crash and her family.
Though, she made one friend, Ivy was elated when college ended. In the car park, Damon was waiting, leaning against his jet-black motorcycle.
When he saw her he smirked. “Good afternoon, love.”
“I thought I said don’t bother to pick me up,” Ivy reminded but the light tone in her voice said otherwise.
“You’d rather catch the bus with all these filthy humans?” he offered, pointing to the bus stop across the street.
Ivy glowered at him with crossed arms. “Hey, I’m human too!”
Damon leaned in close to her, his warm, soft cheek touching hers. He sniffed at her neck and smiled as the sweet taste of conceivable sin filled his nostrils. “You smell better than them,” he whispered.
Ivy shoved him back embarrassed. “Don’t do that!”
“I can’t help being enticed by my food,” Damon moaned.
“I’m not dead yet,” she said offended with a hint of fear. “Now take me home, I’m tired,” she said as she got onto the back of the motorcycle. “Where did you get the motorcycle anyway?”
Damon hopped onto the motorcycle and started the engine. “I borrowed it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hold on tight!” Damon warned.
“Damon, no. DAMON!” Ivy yelled but her screams were hushed by the harsh wind, rushing passed them.
The boy in the expensive clothing watched as she sped off with Damon, a sparkle of anger in his eyes.
(The boy in the expensive clothing was introduced in part 2 of this chapter)
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