We were looking around the library for the book she came here for and had been doing so for fifteen minutes but found nothing yet. 

"Is this book really here? What if someone already took it?" I asked, both of us moving to the next aisle and looking through the next shelf of books. 

"There's only one copy. The teacher said the poems were printed out for you," she huffed, scanning the shelf. She grabbed the stool, climbing on the second step, and started looking at the shelves that were too high. "What do I do if I can't find it?" she asked, trailing her finger along the books. 

"I probably still have the poems in a folder somewhere. We could look for those," I suggested, looking up at her. I leaned against the other shelf, folding my arms across my chest. 

She went on her toes, reaching on the shelf that was even higher. 

"Be careful," I warned. 

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, still searching for it. "Oh, is that it? No," she whined, reaching even higher. 

"Clara, be—" 

"Oh!" she gasped, the stool slipping out from under her. 

I pushed myself forward and grabbed her, steadying her on the stool. "I thought I said be careful," I huffed. 

"I thought I was, sorry," she cleared her throat and then tried again. 

"You know what, get down. I'll check." 

"No, it's fine," she said, brushing me off. 

I glanced down at the stool. It had two steps and she was standing on the second one. I shrugged, standing on the one right below hers. 

She froze when my chest brushed against her back. "What are you doing?" she asked without turning to look at me. 

"Helping," I mumbled, reaching up and starting to look for the book. 

She pulled one book out, nearly dropping it but I caught it, putting it back. "Thanks," she said softly. 

I looked around the room, trying to see if we could find the librarian and just ask her but she was nowhere to be found. Come to think of it, we didn't even see her when we got to the library. 

She huffed, retracting her arm. "I'm getting off. There's no way we can find it like this." 

I grabbed the waistband of her pants and pulled her closer. She froze again. "Just stay still for two seconds," I mumbled, reaching up higher. I found the book, my finger reaching the bottom of it. "It's right there," I huffed. "Take it." 

She went back on her toes, struggling but she pulled it out nonetheless. The books around that almost fell on her head. She squealed, covering her head and looking down but I caught the other books, putting them back in place. "You're good," I laughed, looking down at her. I stepped off the stool and she turned around, sighing in relief. 

"God, why isn't there another copy of this? Or why couldn't I just get print-outs?" she groaned, stepping down and kicking the stool away. "Stupid poems," she frowned, glaring at the cover of the book. 

I chuckled, looking at her as we walked to the front. 

"What?" She raised her brows, looking at me. 

"Nothing," I shook my head. "You're just cute, that's all." 

She abruptly stopped walking. "Huh?" 

I turned around, standing in front of her, and crouched down so I was in level with her, eye to eye. "I said, you're cute," I said slowly, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

She blinked once. Then twice. "Thanks," she nodded. 

I took the copy from her and headed to the front where the librarian was now sitting. Funny how she wasn't here when we needed her. She stamped it for us and then we left. 

"You just called me cute back there, right? I wasn't hearing things?" 

"No, you weren't hearing things. I called you cute. Aren't you?" I looked at her as we walked to the staircase. 

"Cute," she mumbled to herself. 

I walked ahead of her on the staircase, reading her thoughts. 

Cute. 

Is she just going to keep repeating it? 

Cute. 

I think she is. 

Cute, huh? 

Yeah, she is. 

I halted and turned around to face her, causing her to bump into me. "What?" she asked. 

"Why are you having such a tough time comprehending this? You. Are. Cute. Hmm?" I tapped the book on her head, watching as her cheeks turned crimson. I smirked, turning back around, and then continued walking on the stairs. 

Oh my god, kill me now. 

"Why should God kill you now, Clara?" 

"I said that out loud?" she asked from behind me. 

"Hmm," I nodded without looking at her. I know she won't know that I'm lying because she's too lost in her thoughts right now. 

"No, I didn't!" 

I stopped, turning around when we climbed the first set of stairs. "Yeah, you did," I nodded. "How else would I know?" 

"Maybe you read minds," she shrugged. "Maybe they do exist and maybe you are a darkling," she folded her arms across her chest. 

"Maybe," I retorted. "Why?" I stepped forward and she stepped back, leaning against the wall. "Is that a problem for you?" 

"No," she whispered. 

"We should get back," I said. 

"Hmm," she agreed. And then we quickly went back up to my room. 

☆*･ﾟ✫ ✫*･ﾟ☆ ✫*･ﾟ☆ ✫*･ﾟ☆

"Come on, no one's going to know," I whispered in the dark. We're both lying awake just like last night. Except right now, I want to go to the balcony but she doesn't because I'm sick and she thinks we'll get caught. 

"I'm not worried about someone knowing," she scoffed. 

I turned to look at her, even though I could barely see her silhouette. 

"Okay, maybe I am worried about someone knowing. But I'm also worried about you getting sick again. I'm tired of taking care of you," she whined, kicking her legs around. "Turn on the lamp." 

I obeyed and did what she asked. I turned to look at her as she rolled onto her stomach, kicking the blanket off in the process, lifting her legs and dangling them back and forth, her sweatpants hitching up to her knees. 

"I liked it better when you were taking care of me," she sighed, holding her chin in her hand. 

"I'm still taking care of you," I deadpanned. 

"You say that like you don't want to anymore." She narrowed her eyes at me. "Which is a lie." 

"Why is it a lie?" I asked, amused. 

"Because... you like me," she smirked, poking my arm. 

"What?" I sputtered. 

"You. Like. Me. Don't you?" She scooted closer, looking at me, eager for my answer. "Why would you think I like you?" "Because I'm not stupid. You're calling me cute, you're hanging out with me, you're reading the books I recommend, you're worried about me all the damn time. What else could it be?" 

I stared at her. 

Is she being serious? 

"Oh wait, I know! The principal," she huffed, rolling her eyes. She keeps giving me heart attacks like this. "I know that you're being so friendly with me because it makes it easier for you to take care of me and that's what the principal asked of you. But do you even want to do all that, Callum? Or are you only doing it because the principal asked?" 

"What do you think?" I asked. 

"I wouldn't be asking if I had a guess," she retorted. 

"I'm not doing it because the principal asked. I was at first," I admitted. "But not anymore. You know what, I do like you. And you are my friend. And it has nothing to do with the principal," I answered honestly. 

"I'm your... friend?" 

"Aren't you?" 

Does he treat all his friends like this, Jesus? 

"How do you treat your friends, Clara?" I asked. 

She blinked. "Um, the way I treat Daisy, Wyatt, you know," she shrugged. 

"And me?" I questioned. "You don't treat me how you would a friend?" 

No. 

"Yes." Her mind says one thing and her lips say another. "I do." 

"So... how do you treat me?" 

Like I would a crush, for god's sake. 

"Like a friend," she chuckled. "Why do you ask?" 

"I don't know," I sighed. "Friendships are platonic, right?" 

She nodded in response. 

"This doesn't feel platonic to me." 

She straightened up a little. "What do you mean?" 

Am I really about to do this? Really saying what I want to? 

"I don't think you're my friend." 

"But you just said—" 

"I think you're a little more." 

She stared at me silently for a beat. Then two. Then a dozen more. "You barely know me," she finally said. 

"We—" 

"Have plenty of time for that, I know," she nodded with a smile, finishing the sentence for me. "You always say that," she chuckled. 

"That's because it's true, isn't it?" I lifted a brow at her. 

"Callum, why does everyone here say you're so dangerous?" 

"I'll tell you that another time. After we know each other a little better. And anyway, there's something I need to figure out about you," I sighed. 

"What?" she grinned. 

"That's for me to know and you to—" 

"Dot, dot, dot," she smirked. 

Of course, Damon Salvatore. 

I just have a feeling... maybe I'm wrong. But I don't think she's a human. I think there's something about her. Or she has some role being here. 

The humans here aren't just here because they can be. They're here because they're all connected to a rare one in this school. It's in their fate. It's as if it's all written for us. If she's human, then she's here for a rare one. I just need to figure out who that is.

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