I was sitting on her bed, reading. She was beside me, also reading.

"Are you still thinking about what happened this morning?" I asked, glancing at her.

"Kind of," she mumbled, biting her thumbnail while reading, trying to focus on the book. "I just can't understand how he doesn't know that she manipulated him," she said, turning the page, rolling onto her stomach and tucking a pillow under her chin, lifting her legs and rocking them back and forth.

My eyes drifted to her legs and then I checked out her clothes. She's wearing black shorts with a simple red tank top. But she looks beautiful, she always looks beautiful.

She glanced at me, closing the book and putting it on her nightstand. "How is he so brainwashed? She's gone but it's like he's doing everything like she would have asked."

"That's because he is," I answered, standing up and grabbing a pen from her desk before sitting back down. "He's doing it for her."

"Doesn't he think about himself? I understand that he loved her but how can he do everything so blindly?" she asked while I grabbed her hand, doodling on the back of it. "Is he really going to let her intentions ruin his life?" she mumbled absentmindedly. Her eyes flickered down to where I was doodling. "What are you drawing?"

"A jellyfish," I answered, drawing the tentacles before giving it eyes and a little smile. "Hmm," I said, letting her hand go.

She looked at it, chuckling softly.

"Can I draw on your back?"

She stared at me in surprise.

"On my back?"

"It's the easiest to draw on," I shrugged.

"How am I going to wash it off?" she retorted.

"I'll wipe it off later," I offered.

"Okay," she shrugged, grabbing the book and resuming her reading. I shifted, sitting behind her. She sat up, throwing her hair in a bun, and kept reading, crossing her legs while I kneeled behind her. "They found the body!" she exclaimed, zoned in on the book.

I tucked the bottom of her top into itself and then drew a single rose on her tailbone. Then I moved up to her shoulder blade, drawing around the thin strap of her top. I started sketching in a butterfly.

"That tickles," she mumbled, glancing at me over her shoulder.

"Deal with it," I said absentmindedly, drawing in every little detail of the butterfly. Then that one butterfly was followed by other butterflies, each one smaller than the last. And I shaded in each and every butterfly carefully and slowly across her shoulder blade, making it look a little realistic but still simple. After that, I spent a good thirty minutes adding more detail.

"What are you drawing?" she asked.

"A butterfly," I mumbled, wiping away an extra smudge of ink.

"A butterfly? For the past forty-five minutes?"

"Butterflies," I mumbled, biting on the inside of my cheek, drawing the details of the wings. And then I drew little stars around them delicately. I closed the pen, sighing and leaning back to look at it properly.

"Can I go see?" she asked, turning to me. I nodded and she stood up, going into the bathroom and turning around. I followed behind her, leaning against the doorway while facing her to get her reaction. She gasped, "That looks so pretty. I didn't know you could draw like that." She turned to me, grinning. "I love it. I would get it tattooed," she nodded, looking back at it. "Don't wipe that off. It'll come off on its own after a few showers. I like it," she smiled and then giggled softly before turning back to me. "I love it, actually."

"Really? Sounds like a bit of a stretch," I smirked, stepping closer to her.

"No, I love it, really," she laughed, leaning against the counter.

"Do you want to go paint with the art class? It will start in a bit," I said, putting my hands on the counter, either side of her.

"But I'm hungry," she mumbled, her hand going to her stomach as it growled.

I chuckled, "How about you go to the cafeteria and buy something and I'll go to the art room and bring it over. We can paint it here too, whenever we want."

She nodded. "Sounds good."

"Great."

"Perfect," she beamed.

I tilted her chin up, pressing my lips to hers in a soft kiss. When I opened my eyes and pulled away, I noticed that her grip on the counter was tightened and she was somewhat out of it. I didn't know kisses do that to her.

"I'm going to die doing this," she mumbled to herself, pushing past me and grabbing her wallet and keys so she could buy some snacks.

I grabbed her wrist, turning her around. "Die doing what?"

"My heart beats so fast around you and it's not just when you kiss me, it's all the time. That can't be good for the health of my heart, can it?" she asked, looking up at me quizzically. "What if I really die here?"

I blinked in confusion. Is she talking about the kisses or Atticus? "Die how?" I questioned.

"Either one of the two ways I could die here," she groaned. "By your kisses or... Atticus."

"He can't kill you." She looked at me unsurely. "I won't let him. I promise." I put my pinky up.

She smiled, locking her pinky with mine.

"I like you too much to let you get hurt. And I hate him too much to let him hurt you. Don't worry about it, okay? And anyway, don't you think death by kisses is a great way to die?"

She rolled her eyes but she was smiling. "Totally," she scoffed, going up on her toes and kissing me. She grabbed my shirt, pulling me closer.

Oh. This is what she meant.

Yeah, it is scary. My heart is pounding suddenly and I might go into cardiac arrest.

She pulled back, grinning. She knows well what she just did. "Bye." She walked out after that.

I sighed, putting on my shoes and heading out to the art room. I walked in there while the class was entering.

"Hey, where's Clara?" Wyatt asked, dropping his bag in his seat.

"She went to get something to eat. I'm here to take the bowl," I answered, walking over to the window where all the bowls were sitting on some parchment paper. I started looking for ours.

"Is she coming here to paint it with you?" Daisy asked, taking theirs.

"No, I'm going to take some supplies to her room. I'll drop them back," I replied, picking ours up.

"You can sit for a while, the teacher isn't here today," Wyatt said, gesturing to the seat beside him.

I walked over, set the bowl down on the table, and sat in the seat. The students began removing their tables and placing their pottery wheels in place but I'm not here for pottery. I put one arm over the table, having it dangle off the edge, and then put my head down on my arm, staring at nothing in particular. Just zoned out.

"What are you doing?" Daisy asked while she and Wyatt began moving their table and bringing in the wheel.

"Thinking."

"What's on your mind?" Wyatt asked, glancing at me.

"She's on my mind."

They stopped and looked at each other. "Why are you thinking about Clara when you can just go to her?" Daisy questioned.

"I'm thinking of her because I don't know what is going to happen to her," I admitted. "I can't let anything happen to her."

"You won't," Wyatt shrugged. "It's just the way you are, man. Above and beyond type of shit."

I sighed, closing my eyes.

"Atticus, where are you headed?" My eyes snapped open and I looked up at the door where Nate, who also takes art, was asking Atticus that question as he passed the classroom.

"Cafeteria," he said and then continued walking.

I shot out of my seat, grabbing the bowl and rushing out. I made it out into the hallway and teleported into the cafeteria rather than running there. I had to get there before Atticus. I have to be with her at all times when he's around.

I stumbled a little when I made it there, my head a little woozy.

I spotted her at the counter table grabbing some lemonade and chips, talking to the lunch lady. "Thank you," she grinned and then turned to leave, spotting me. "Hey," she smiled, walking over and linking her arm with mine. "I thought you would go back to the room from the art room, what happened?" She turned to look at the door when we heard rushed footsteps.

I followed her gaze and found Atticus coming in. He spotted me and mumbled something under his breath before walking around us and buying a pack of chips.

"How did you know?" she asked, bringing my attention back to her.

"He was going by the art class when I heard him saying he was coming here. So, I teleported to beat him to it," I admitted.

She stared at me for a second. "Are we really going to have to be this way? Always scared for my safety?"

I don't have the heart to tell her that the answer to that question could very well be a yes.

She sighed, reading my face as the answer. "Let's paint that, come on," she said halfheartedly.

"We'll paint it tomorrow," I said. "We're going to do something else right now."

"What?" she asked while we started heading out of the cafeteria.

"We're going to the library. Come on."

.

.

.

.

.