It was now the next morning and Daisy and I were sitting at our usual table, having breakfast. The chair beside her screeched as Wyatt sat down and they both started exchanging photographs for their painting and whatnot.

I jumped when a book was slammed down on the table in front of me.

The Hating Game.

I looked up as Callum pulled the chair and sat down. "He left the job."

"What?" I chuckled.

"Joshua. He left the job," he said, pointing to the book.

"He just left that department. They couldn't be together if he stayed in that department. You finished the whole book?"

"I finished it an hour after leaving your room."

I raised my eyebrows, nodding because I was impressed. "So, you read like a lot, huh?"

"Yeah. And after reading that, I remembered why I don't read romance novels."

"Romance novels are the best, what are you talking about? And they had a happy ending."

"He didn't. He left that job. The job he was so good at and got paid so well for. And she kept going."

"The book isn't about him or her, it's about their relationship. He put her before himself."

"And she didn't."

"So?" I shrugged. "One person always loves more than the other. Obviously, that was Joshua. That's why he kissed her in the elevator, knowing well that she was on her way to a date."

"He shouldn't have left that job."

"So... he should have been selfish?"

"He could have gotten promoted instead of her."

"Yeah, but he wanted her to be happy. So he stepped back and let her have it. And it was so special for her because he made it. He gave her the chance she so desperately wanted."

"He wanted it too," he argued.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "She wanted it more than him, and he wanted her more than it. So he gave in and stepped away. For her. Because he loved her. He chose to be selfless for the girl he loved rather than selfish for himself."

"A stupid decision."

"People in love make stupid decisions all the time," I shrugged, opening my bag and putting the book away. Then I took out Serpent & Dove which I finished last night. "Here."

"What do I do with this?"

"It's a book, you read it," I said mockingly. "You liked this one too. It's different but I think you'll like it more."

The bell rang, signaling that the first period was about to start. I had French next and Callum did too, so we walked together. I know he isn't opening up that much, but we had a start yesterday. I want to know him, I want to be his friend or... something. Anything.

We settled in our seats and he sat behind me. "What's this one about?" he asked.

I turned in my seat to look at him. "Why don't you read and find out?"

He looked up from the book and his eyes met mine. "Will I be left frustrated?"

"Maybe a little," I chuckled.

He sighed, putting it in his bag as Mr. Robert walked in.

The class was going by like normal, I was a little more caught up on the subject. But I was busy doodling when he picked on me.

Have I mentioned how much I hate teachers who do that?

"Quelles activités le Cher aimait-il faire?" he asked.

I understood what his question meant.

What activities did Cher like to do?

But I wasn't paying attention when he was reading the extract out loud and I had no idea what the answer was. Because I was doodling. "Um, Cher—" I stopped talking when the chair behind me screeched loudly. I turned around, watching as Callum stood up with his pencil and a sharpener in hand.

"Sorry," he mumbled, walking to the trash can where he sharpened his class.

I watched him in confusion.

"Clara?"

"Yeah, sorry," I mumbled.

Then the stack of papers on Mr. Robert's desk fell magically, giving me more time to waste. He huffed and began picking them up.

Callum walked back, leaving a note on my table.

I looked down at it.

Swimming, reading, dancing, and painting.

Is that the answer?

"Yes, Clara?" Mr. Robert asked, leaving his papers at his desk.

"Um, nager, lire, danser et peindre," I answered, trusting that the note had the right answers.

"That's right, and what time did she swim? Callum?" he asked.

I turned to look at Callum. "Cinq heures et demie," he answered while looking at me.

'Thank you' I mouthed.

He winked at me while Mr. Robert continued teaching.

I rolled my eyes with a smile, turning back around in my seat.

After French, we were walking to English Lit together when someone behind me called my name. "Clara!"

I halted, turning around. I saw Atticus running over, pushing through the crowd.

He glanced at Callum and his gaze hardened but then he turned his attention to me. "The principal is calling you."

"Oh, uh, why?"

"You have a visitor," he said, his voice void of anything and then he turned around and walked away.

A visitor?

I turned to Callum. "Um—"

"You can go to the office. I'll tell our teacher where you are," he said.

"You won't come?" I blurted out, pulling my lips into a thin line when I realized what I said. "I mean, you don't have to. Nevermind," I chuckled awkwardly, turning to head to the principal's office.

He grabbed my hand, tugging me back. I raised my brows at him. "The principal's office is that way," he smirked, pointing ahead of us.

"Right," I said, walking with him. When we reached the staircase, I went down to the first floor, and he went up to the classroom we had English Lit in. I walked to the principal's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

I walked in, seeing my dad sitting in front of her. "Dad? Hi," I blinked in surprise.

"Are you okay?" he sighed, standing up and walking over to me.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why are you..."

Principal Michelle told him, didn't she?

"Do you want to come home, Clara? You don't have to stay here on campus if you don't want to after the incident."

I looked between my dad and the principal.

"What do you suggest?" he asked her.

"I suggest we take her opinion," she replied, turning to me.

"Do you want to come home, honey?"

God, he's so worried.

"Dad, I'm fine. It was just one nightmare."

"You screamed loud enough to wake everyone up. What was it about?"

"I don't know. I don't remember it. Any of it."

The principal blinked and it seemed like she realized something. "She's being taken care of, you should know, Flynn."

Why is she calling him by his first name? Do they know each other?

"By who? Who is taking care of her?"

"For starters, Daisy is with her whenever she can be."

"And what about the classes she doesn't share with Daisy?" he asked, a little angry from what it looks like.

"She has most of her classes with someone else. Trust me, she's being taken care of."

"Who is taking care of her, Michelle?"

"Callum Nikolai is taking care of her," she said sternly.

"Nikolai? The prince, Callum Nikolai?" my dad questioned.

She nodded. "Maybe you two should take some time to talk."

"Dad, come on." I left, taking him with me. We walked around the empty hallway while talking.

"You really don't remember what the nightmare was about?"

I shook my head in response. "Maybe it just happened and it was so bad because I was overwhelmed. You know with moving and meeting new people and everything," I shrugged.

"And Callum is taking care of you?"

"I can take care of myself, dad."

"Someone needs to help you here. At least for a little while. Is he taking care of you?"

"He's not my security guard, dad. He just keeps an eye on me and makes sure I'm okay."

"Is he doing a good job, Clara?"

"I would like to think so." We both stopped and looked at the staircase where Callum was walking down. He jogged over with a set of worksheets in his hand. "This is all the work from this class. Here."

I took it, looking at him in utter confusion. "Didn't you go for class? Why are you down here?"

"Class lasts for an hour. I couldn't leave you alone on campus for the whole hour. So I took the work both for you and me. We can do it later," he shrugged. "Hello," he smiled at my dad.

He never smiles so charmingly at me.

His eyes cut to mine.

"Dad, this is Callum. This is my dad," I introduced them to each other.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

Sir?

"Nice to meet you," my dad replied.

I turned to my dad. "Weren't you supposed to visit on the weekend?"

"Yes, but I heard about the nightmare. I had to make sure you were okay."

"She's okay." I looked at Callum, a little surprised that he said that.

My dad stared at him in silence and they both exchanged looks.

"She's okay," he repeated.

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