"Non," I answered.

"Um, tu es de New York?" He's asking if I am from New York.

We've been studying French for an hour and I'm over it. So I've decided to answer all of his questions with no.

"Non," I shrugged.

"Menteuse," he smirked.

Calling me a liar now, is he?

"Ne m'appelle pas une menteuse," I scoffed.

Don't call me a liar.

"Mais tu es une menteuse." He cocked a brow at me.

But you are a liar.

"Je m'ennuie," I said slowly.

I'm bored.

"Oh, je vois. Qu'est-ce que tu aimerais faire?" Really? Now he decides to ask me what I would like to do?

"Non plus de français."

No more French.

"Fine, an hour is enough as it is," he sighed in defeat, closing all the books and putting them away.

I sighed in relief, standing up and stretching. "Finally, can we do something?" I groaned.

"What do you want to do? Everybody is still in class for another hour at least," he said, glancing at the time on his phone.

"Let's go somewhere on campus. I'm sure there are still parts of it I haven't seen. Will you show me?" I asked, hooking my keys onto my jeans.

"I'm sure there are restricted parts of it that you haven't seen." He stood up, dusting his jeans off. "But yeah, I'll show you," he smirked. He started gathering his things but I snatched them away and threw them on my desk.

"You can get your stuff later, come on." I pulled him outside with me and started going to the staircase.

"You want to see a spot on campus that no one else knows about?"

"I'm convinced that you know this place more than anybody else. Take me away," I laughed. We went to the library, walking upstairs. "Why are we here?" I asked, keeping my voice down as per the rules.

"There's a secret staircase here that leads to the highest balcony. It's practically a rooftop."

I gasped, "Can we go?"

"We can, but we're not allowed to. I go there sometimes to clear my head," he nodded, pretending to look through the books. "Come on." He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the very corner.

It seems like a dead-end to me. "This is just a wall," I mumbled.

He reached up to the top shelf and pulled one book out halfway before putting it back in its place. The wall jutted out and he pushed it further, making it open.

It's a door? Are you freaking kidding me?

"Hurry," he whispered.

I walked through and he followed behind me, closing it shut. "How are we going to get out?" I asked, looking at the door.

He froze momentarily. "It opens back up, uh, don't worry."

Then I trailed behind him to the glass door which had a clear view of our surroundings and a small view of the Ilea outside of our campus. I forgot Ilea is an entire kingdom, not just our school.

"Whoa," I mumbled, walking to the edge and grabbing the railing. "Ilea is beautiful," I said softly. It really was.

"You know, sunsets around here are always very bright. It's a very pretty kingdom," he said, walking over and taking the spot beside me.

"I can't believe you've lived in such a pretty place your whole life," I chuckled. "New York is either sticky or you get yellow, dirty snow."

"Yeah, but Ilea could never light up at night like New York. It could never have buildings tall enough to make a skyline like New York. Each place has its own benefits. You get the best of both worlds," he replied.

"You know, I really didn't want to leave New York at first. I was scared that with my old house, I would be leaving all my memories with my mom behind," I stated.

"And now?"

"Now I think about how much she would have loved it here. It's just the kind of place she always wanted to live in."

"Then how did New York happen?"

"University," I answered, turning to him. "She studied there. My dad was there on a trip, that's how they met."

He nodded in understanding. "I'm sure she visited Ilea sometime. Before or maybe right after they got married."

"Yeah, plenty of times. She visited when she was pregnant too. Sometimes I feel like I've been here before. But I don't remember anything like that and my dad never said I have. So maybe not."

"What does it matter? It's your home now," he said, bumping his shoulder with mine.

I smiled, staring at the view. "What's that?" I pointed far out into the distance.

"The bridge?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"That's Ilea's bridge," he chuckled. "It's built right over the lake. It's Ilea's best place. Most beautiful. The sunset looks amazing from there. I went a couple of times."

"With someone?"

"No, alone, actually. I tend to stumble into weird places when I'm in need of space to clear my head."

"It sounds like you need to clear your head a lot," I snorted, looking at him. "What thoughts race through your head, Prince Callum?"

He chuckled, ducking his head down for a minute. "You know, I really don't understand why the hell you're friends with me. Or why you even talk to me. There's a reason Wyatt's my only friend."

"For the record, you're the one who refused to leave me alone since the principal asked you to on my first night here. And anyway, it's hard to dislike someone who's there for you and there with you twenty-four/seven," I smiled. "But why don't you make more friends?" I frowned in confusion. "Everybody is scared of you. Why?"

"Cause I did some shit last year."

"What did you do? Don't say you killed someone, please. That joke is getting old."

He shook his head, sighing. "I did a lot, actually. And I would have gotten kicked out if the principal didn't know the truth."

"Which I'm sure you won't tell me just yet, right?" I asked knowingly.

"Right," he nodded.

I gasped, "A kitten! Oh, it's so cute, look at it!" I gushed, pointing at it. It was walking along the railing and then it jumped from the balcony to someone's window and then it disappeared somewhere. "Kitty cats," we both said in sync, mocking a British accent.

He stared at me in shock. "Say that again."

"We call them kitty cats. Okay, kitty cats," I laughed. "Wow, you grew up watching Wizards of Waverly Place too, huh? Who did you watch it for?"

"What do you mean?" he chuckled.

"Everyone watches it for a character, come on."

"Alex Russo. Selena Gomez was cute," he answered. "What about you?"

"I watched it for Justin. Mason almost swayed me. But then I saw him as a wolf."

"Did that scare you?" he laughed.

"No, it just... was weird. I never thought any guy would have that much hair on their face. But he was a werewolf so, I guess it makes sense. That was a good joke though. Kitty cats," I laughed, mostly to myself. After a short moment of silence, I asked, "Callum?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you tell me what happened that night?"

"Which night?"

"My first night here." I turned, leaning my back against the railing and facing him.

"I walked into your room when you were already screaming. I just woke you up," he answered.

I watched him carefully. I noticed how he wouldn't really look at me. Not longer than five seconds anyway. "Are you lying?"

"Why would I be lying? What else could have happened?"

"Something you're not telling me could have happened," I huffed. "Callum, it's important for me to know what happened that night, even if I'll never know what that stupid dream was about," I groaned.

"I'm being honest. Everyone was awake because we all heard screaming. I came out, realized it was coming from your room, broke into your room—"

"Why did you do that? Nobody else got that worried."

"You could be dying, for all I knew. I had to do something. When Daisy, Wyatt, and I got there, you were sleeping. But you were screaming, maybe even crying, all in your sleep. Someone had to wake you up to make it stop. So I did," he shrugged.

"I was screaming?"

"Yeah, like you got hurt. Like someone got hurt and you were crying. Like you... like you lost someone," he mumbled, staring ahead instead of looking at me. "I think it was about your mom and the crash."

"It could be something else," I shrugged, trying not to appear too bothered.

"You acted very calmly after waking up for the way you were screaming, which makes me think you get nightmares often. Other than the accident, is there anything else you get nightmares about, Clara?"

"No," I admitted, turning back around and staring at the view to ignore his eyes on me.

"If they happen often then why is it so important to remember it? It might just be the same."

"It probably was. Which is why I need to remember. Because how can I forget something that I don't even remember but I just know of? It's really hard. I just wish I could control my fucking dreams. Every time I dream about it, it's like I'm living it again. I hate it."

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