Apricity

School

Why are you the way that you are? Some might say it's nature, other say it's nurture. I don't really care, either way. But I really do have to question as to why a certain red-haired girl is sitting at my lunch table with a rather stubborn look on her face.

Oliver twisted his fork uncomfortably, and I sighed. The last time we spoke with her, she accused me of forcing Oliver to hang out with me. Which was untrue, of course. I'm someone you can't help but hang out with, not the other way around. But still, there she was. Sitting at our table as if she hadn't caused a ruckus and spread rumors about us.

Clara, the red-haired girl, sighed.

"You guys don't mind, right? It's just that I have nowhere to sit...." She started, and I shrugged. Her perfume still smelled nice.

"I'm fine with it," I tapped Oliver on the shoulder. "Are you fine with it?"

"She can stay," He briskly mentioned. His eyes were still focused on the food.

That's not what I really asked, but I didn't want to argue with him in front of Clara. She kept stealing glances at Oliver, and I kept stealing glances at her. She really was beautiful. Red curly hair like red coral on the sea floor, and green eyes that seemed to shine when you looked at them. Damn. Oliver's pretty lucky to have someone like her crushing on someone like him, but then again, she is pretty obsessive. Maybe he's not so lucky after all.

"So you're not really Oliver's girlfriend, right? It was pretty unclear on whether you two, you know," she suddenly spoke. I raised my eyebrow. Quite frankly, I was unclear about that too. We told people we weren't, then we told people we were, and then we told people we weren't again.

"We're off and on," I said, quite confidently. At this point, I liked tricking people. Oliver was fine with it too and merely shrugged. Although, I don't think he got the same enjoyment as I did whenever I tried to confuse people.

"Oh."

I glanced at her painted nails and tilted my head. They had various figures on them. Painted mushrooms, I think?

"I like your nails. Where'd you get them painted?"

Clara blushed and grabbed her fingers, almost protectively.

"I painted them myself."

"Well, they look nice. Unique." I pointed at her bracelets. "Did you make those too?"

Clara nodded. Oliver subtly rolled his eyes. I smiled.

"It's always nice to see a fellow artist such as myself," I exclaimed with a sort of pride in my voice. Her work seemed nice and expressive. I mean, making bracelets may not seem hard, but they still looked nice. I don't make my own jewelry. But I can appreciate someone who does. Clara looked up in surprise.

"You're an artist?"

"I paint when I can. And quite well, if I do say so myself," I smirked. Clara nodded her head again and glanced at Olive for the millionth time. Oliver didn't seem to pay her any mind. In fact, it seemed like he was making a very active effort not to look at her.

Then, all of a sudden, he hit my shoe under the table. I glared at him, but he just ignored my silent demand for him to stop. Once, twice, three times, he stepped on my shoe. I stepped on him just to get back at him. Finally, after a small war took place, I smiled as I turned to Clara.

"Hey, sorry Clara, but I just remembered that we have a club meeting that starts right about now. Don't we, Oliver?"

"Yeah, I was just about to tell you that. We really need to get going."

Clara narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but smiled anyway and waved us goodbye. Oliver and I walked away, and when were far enough from her, I rolled my eyes and sighed dramatically.

"God, I get it. Did you really have to bruise my toes?"

"I didn't bruise your toes. I was merely signaling you," Oliver said quietly as we walked behind the school.

"Why though? I mean, I know you hate her and all, but the quite painful signaling seemed quite desperate."

Oliver looked at me and then looked at the ground.

"You were getting too comfortable with her. I needed to get you out of there."

I hummed quietly, and then shrugged.

"Like a mission? To save me? Damage control and all that?"

Oliver didn't answer this time. I was scared he would never reply, but then he sighed. A tired look crossed his face.

"Clara's just not.....Good for you, that's all. There's no point in making friends with her."

"I wasn't making friends with her! I was just being polite," I refuted. I mean, what's wrong with being polite to people? Did I like her? Not by much, although she is pretty cute. She didn't even apologize for accusing me in front of everybody, so I'm still not very fond of her. Still, though, there's nothing wrong with being polite.

"Politeness and wanting to be friends are the same thing with Clara."

"Ok, alright. I mean, I don't really get what you're saying, but that's fine. No befriending Clara."

"No befriending Clara..." Oliver repeated to himself.