07 | many thanks to the magnanimous twat.

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JANNAT'S P.O.V

     I STORMED AROUND THE CORNER, my eyes frantically searching for the scrawny kid. Finally after what seemed like forever, I found him tucked away in a dark corner of the library, reading some book. I peered a little to catch the title written in bold gold letters — The Secret History.

"Heard you thrashed a guy."

He finally tore his gaze from the book, his steely gray eyes boring into me. I continued, eyeing the bandage on his chin. "Heard you got beat up in return too. He got you on the chin, huh? How did it feel being punched by someone who was not me?"

His lips crooked up ever-so-slightly at the corner, like he wanted to smile — but didn't give in. I grinned. "Ah. Missed me that much, huh?"

"Shut up, Divagirl." He shook his head, whipping out a bookmark quickly from his pocket and slipping it in between the pages before pressing the book and tucking it underneath his arm. He motioned for me to sit down.

"It's dirty. I will not let my skirt get ruined."

He rolled his eyes, then took out a mat from his backpack. My eyes widened. "You casually run around with a mat in your bag?"

He gave me an incredulous stare as he bounced the mat to me. I caught it in time, and then crouched down, spreading it on the floor before sitting down on it quietly, instinctively getting into Lotus position. Sinclair's eyes followed my action, and then tried to copy it, but gave up — scrambling back to his initial position — legs stretched forward, out on the dirty floor.

"Well, a mat is one of my necessities. I like sitting on the floor."

"Weirdo."

"Not as weird as you, miss ma'am, you casually carry around a hairdryer in your purse."

I frowned at him. "I mean, duh, do you think I am barbarian or what?"

"See what I mean?" He said, his mouth twisting in a smirk. "We all have our, er, differences which set us apart. Just so happens, yours are the weirdest ones."

"I really really want to punch you," I said.

He let out a low laugh. "I bet you do. Must have hurt you to be informed that someone else other than you actually had the audacity to inflict violence on me, yeah?"

"Shut up weirdo," I said, rolling my eyes. "Also, wait, before I forget it, I was here to ask you something very important."

"Ask me something important?" He repeated, cocking one eyebrow. "If you're already asking me for prom, which is ages away — with a heavy heart I have to deny because as much as I love being around you—"

"Ah, ah, ah," I interrupted before he could do more verbal shitposting. "I wanted to ask — how do you know what my perfume smells like?"

His face contorted into a confused expression at first, but then the confusion vanished away and a smirk crawled up on its way towards his mouth. "Essential oils."

I scrunched up my nose. "What? That doesn't answer my question."

"You don't use perfume, you use essential oils," He said, grinning at me. "You mix essential oils with your body lotion. Remember, during our school captain election campaigns, to get back at you for gluing my favorite flip-flops to my feet — I snuck in your room and mixed itching powder in your essential oils? You had to give your speech on stage with your whole skin itching. One of my fondest memories, truly."

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