Crazy but Sweet, Sweet but Crazy

4: a priest and a strategy

I froze- didn't know for how long- like my logic had been blacked out with the flash of the camera.

The sharp peppermint cologne, the texture of his lips and the taste and scent of coffee were all my mind was wrapped around, before the buzz of my phone.

Coming to my senses, I pushed Elliot away, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. This was a Lockwood. I was supposed to feel disgusted, revolted.

Then, I surveyed our surroundings. No student was in sight, and no camera man was in sight. Of course.

After taking a snap he would've disappeared as quickly as the flash of his camera had come.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded hotly.

Elliot calmly took a baseball jacket from the backseats, put it on, and zipped it up- like nothing had happened.

All the while, blood beat thick and fast in my temples. It was like I'd been drugged- my senses felt numbed, I felt dazed.

"As you can see, putting on a jacket," he replied with the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice. "You spilled- I mean poured- coffee on my shirt."

"Cut the crap." I glanced at my phone, hearing my heartbeat grow louder in my ears. Bianca was calling.

"Your father hasn't really been contacting you, has he? Well congratulations. Before the end of today, your father will probably call you with much thanks."

Elliot opened the car door, and with a pause, looked back at me with that sweet smile of his. "By the way, was that your first kiss?"

"W-what? No-"

"No problem. I'll teach you next time how to do a proper one," he said in a reassuring tone, sarcastic amusement in his eyes. "I thought I was kissing a statute."

I stared at him, flustered. "What proper-"

Before I could finish my sentence, he shut the door behind him, slinging on his bag on his shoulder.

"Player," I muttered, getting out of the car.

Elliot was waiting for me outside the car, glancing at his watch. "We'll have to walk a little fast."

"No, no. This is where we separate ways. You to your class and me to my class. My head's already sufficiently messed up because of what you said."

"Sorry to disappoint, Clare, but I'm not walking you to class. I'm walking to my class. Your first class is History with Mrs. Smith. Mine is too," he said, clearly enjoying my reaction as we walked briskly across the parking lot.

"You know my class? Wow, I applaud you for the detailed background check," I muttered, as we went up a flight of stairs.

"I guess your ex-journalist, and ex-press company CEO father didn't teach you much about observational skills," he muttered under his breath, his face breaking into a bright smile as he acknowledged the greetings of a female student passing by. "You're holding your timetable in your hand."

I didn't know whether to be creeped out or amazed by the swiftness of the change in his facial expression.

It was like a completely different face he put on. With the sunny smile, he was almost unrecognizably different.

Feeling my cheeks flush, I retorted, "Why would you look at my timetable?", feeling foolish as soon as the sentence was out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry I have eyes," he said coolly, as we walked down the corridor, slowly.

It was truly a talent, to choose words that irked me, every single time.

"Tell me. Why you're so sure it wasn't my father."