I look down at the vulnerable Slater below me, laid out before me in his shirtless glory and lips painted a dark pink from our impatient kisses, and then zero in on the voice ringing in my ear. With all the self-control I have, I unstraddle him and fall onto his bed, thoroughly frustrated and still full to the brim with the heat of the moment.

"Hey, Lara," I sigh into the phone, brushing my hair out of my face as the remnants of memories dissipate into thin air.

Slater seems stunned beside me, reeling from the moment. All I can hope for is that he won't shut me out or regret what we did, because boy oh boy, I do not.

"You sound frazzled. Are you alright, sis?" Lara asks, genuine concern winding itself through her words.

I purse my lips and cross an arm over my chest, "I'm fine, just a bit out of it. Why did you call?" I question, hoping my eagerness to end our conversation doesn't show through.

"I'm hurt at your bluntness, but anyhoo," she thankfully brushes it off and I hear the flipping of paper before she continues, "I'm actually free tomorrow, so I was thinking I could come around?"

Instantly, my thoughts are dragged away from the half-naked adonis next to me, and I gasp out a comical, "Really?!"

She laughs the angelic laugh that I missed, "Yeah. If you'll have me? I have news for you too."

An ear-splitting grin replaces my grimace, "Of course I will! I haven't seen you in decades, Lara. Just call me whenever you arrive and I'll let you in, yeah?"

Our conversation ends soon after that, and I end up getting so distracted by the anticipation of her arrival tomorrow that as soon as I hang up, I forget what I was doing before the phone call.

Slater seizes my gaze.

"Are we going to talk about what just happened?" he slowly draws out, as if trying to process it himself.

My body already increases several hundred degrees at the reminder.

"What's there to talk about? It's not my fault. You said you were about anything happening between us, which is pretty much like writing 'KISS ME' across your forehead in indelible ink. I took the rare opportunity, and as far as I can remember, you weren't exactly opposed to-"

A pinch at my waist cuts my rant short.

I turn to face Slater, regretting my rash decision to build up a wall of excuses in my defence. He wears a small, amused smile - mind you, still very shirtless and still very appealing.

"I meant about what we're going to do now, not why what we did was so wrong," he expands, before adding, "Although, it was wrong according to..."

After catching my flat gaze, he decides not the bring up the topic of the university's cursed rules.

"Well, like you said, we'll just keep... this," I motion awkwardly between us and realising just how close we are, "on the down low. It's not like we interact much in lectures or anywhere outside this room."

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, "Perhaps, but there is the issue where you blush at anything I say."

I gawk at him.

"Are you teasing me, Slater Donovan Hartley?" I ask incredulously, "Don't act like you don't know you're the hottest thing that's happened to planet Earth since the Big Bang."

At that, he laughs. Eyes twinkling and pearly-whites on show, he tilts his head to the side. I cross my arms at his amusement, thoroughly unamused.

"Thank you, Quorra," he smiles to himself, "Nonetheless, you still have to tone down the blush."

I shrug him off, "I can't control it. Flicking a switch and turning into an emotionless robot isn' an option for me - unlike some people."

As soon as he rolls his eyes, I realise just how drastically things have changed between us over the past couple days. He doesn't stop constantly and think so carefully before he speaks, and even his posture and how he walks is much more relaxed. The smiles he so often wears nowadays are authentic and simply dreamy.

I feel the edges of my lips curl up.

Looks like he's keeping up his end of the deal.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

Prodding at my plate of food, I look up to see Slater staring at me from across the canteen. He narrows his eyes in warning.

I wasn't even going to come down for lunch but he's seriously enforcing my end of the deal now. Stabbing a baby carrot, I bite it off my fork and squint back at him in irritation. I've gotten better at the three-meals a day concept, but he's now making sure that my meals are big enough to constitute being a meal, and not a snack.

"Hey, Quorra," Hannah smiles in greeting, sitting down across from me and pulling me out of my glaring contest, "Sorry I'm late, I had to call my parents to confirm the payment for the lake trip."

I nod in understanding, trying to ignore the burning gaze in the side of my head by returning her contagious smile.

It soon fades as my brain makes the connections. The reminder of the lake trip hangs over my mid like a heavy curtain, clouding the rest of my thoughts. Hannah catches on right away, donning a frown to match mine.

"Do you still not think your parents will pay for you?" Hannah asks, maintaining a patient expression of empathy as she mannerly places a forkful of quiche into her mouth.

I shake my head and sigh, troubled, "I don't know at this point. I'm hoping they will - it sounds like fun. The last time I saw them they found out that I've kissed my English professor and then had dinner with him, so things aren't looking to be in my favour."

Hannah gapes at me.

"Oh, did I not tell..." I cut myself off, pausing momentarily before shrugging, so used to letting things slip at this point.

Ignoring her reaction, I continue, "So I think it's safe to say that the whole money thing is a little unlikely right now."

I sigh to myself, brushing a hand through my hair. Lara is coming around tomorrow; maybe I should ask her to ask my parents?

I wish I could just pay myself, but the student life is a barren one of borderline poverty.

"I'll try and convince them," I speak up, "But not promises. Hey, do you know if Slater is going?"

Hannah smiles and looks at me pointedly. I scowl, loathhing myself for my lack of a filter.

Really?

"We aren't together," I deadpan, although I can feel my confidence give way to uncertainty, "It's not allowed anyway."

Setting down her cutlery, Hannah looks me dead in the eye, "I'm telling you, Quorra, I see it. You two clearly like each other. Lucas thinks so as well."

I instantly turn the tables on her, the grin slapped across my face grand enough to challenge the Cheshire cat, "Lucas, eh? You guys are getting cosy."

Her jaw drops a little at my comment and she quickly busies herself with her food, "Don't turn this on me, Quorra. Lucas is just a friend."

"That you make-out with on a regular basis? Yeah, okay," I snort, leaving her alone.

All of a sudden, my eye catches someone else's behind Hannah.

I immediately grit my teeth and stand up, crossing my arms and staring down the 5'6 excuse of a human being clacking her way towards me in obnoxious heels.

"What do you want now, Martha-Maybe-Consider-Foundation-That-Matches-Your-Skin-Colour?" I sigh, picking at my nails and feigning disinterest.

Hannah's eyes widen as she looks down at the table, no doubt feeling very awkward at the arrival of her old, fake (in every meaning of the word) 'friend'.

Martha-May cackles like a witch, stopping abruptly and meeting my eyes with an unkind smile, "You are always so creative."

I return the plastic smile, dropping it as soon as she does.

"Okay, cut the crap," she snaps, abandoning her façade, "I need to talk with you. Outside. Now."

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

◈ѕlaтer нarтley◈

I watch Quorra from across the canteen, unable to help myself. Her reddened cheeks are dark enough for even me to see from over here, and I can only wonder what Hannah has said.

All I've been able to think about since earlier today was... well, earlier today. Every time I try to sit down and get some work done, my mind is instantly flooded with memories of her soft lips on mine and her arms around my neck. If I think hard enough, I can even taste the vanilla frosting lingering on her tongue.

Half of me can't believe I let myself lose control so easily, but the other half of me is just wondering when it can happen again. It's almost as if Quorra has me reevaluating the meaning of my entire life.

I don't know what I'm doing right now, but if no-one else, at least Lucas will be happy with me.

My phone buzzes in the table.

I pick it up, shaking my head. Speak of the devil.

"Hello, Lucas," I greet, accepting the call.

"Screw the pleasantries, did you find out?" he rushes out, as I stifle a laugh.

Yesterday, Lucas asked me to find out Hannah's stance on him, claiming that because his head (well, one of them) is on the chopping block now due to my slip-up, I now owe him a favour.

I stab at my caesar salad with my fork, "I'm not going to harass my student for your benefit," I sigh, as he gasps melodramatically.

"Slater Donovan Hartley!" he exclaims, an uncanny impression of a certain fiesty girl currently sitting a few metres to my left, "You owe me a favour! And I wouldn't exactly say that you aren't experienced in the field of harassing students. I mean, come on - poor Quorra."

I narrow my eyes at his suggestion, losing my appetite, "I'm not harassing her."

Lucas' familiar laugh rings through the phone as I sigh at his incessant stupidity.

"If you have nothing intellligent to contribute to the conversation, I'm going to hang up on you," I threaten, shaking my head at the mocking sounds of kissing that he makes.

"You know, I happen to know for a fact that you were making out earlier. Q called me."

I weigh up the chances of his sentence being true, before deciding to throw all reasoning out the window.

"What did she say?" I ask, intrigued.

There's only a moment's hesitation before he bursts out laughing all over again.

"I was kidding! Oh my god, you actually made ou-"

I end the call, sliding my phone into my pocket in irritation.

My eyes scan the canteen again, looking for Quorra.

I scan it once. Twice. A third time, slowly.

Where did she go?

● qυorra neverѕea ●

I tap my foot impatiently, "What do you want?"

We're now standing outside the canteen and around the corner in a quiet corridor. The wannabe barbie across from me smacks her gum, glossy, lipsticked lips stretched into a sneer.

"You need to give Hannah back now. She was ours first."

I quirk an eyebrow and shift my weight to my other leg, looking at Martha-May as if she's an extra terrestrial, "That's what this is about? She was never part of your pathetic posse anyway, M&M. Leave her and me alone. Hear me?"

I turn on my heel and go to march off, but a baby-pink-manicured hand grabs my shoulder. With a wince, I quickly tear her spidery fingers off me and whip around with a snarl.

"I said, leave me alone!" I snap, patience shattered like glass.

She glares back at me, tenfold as angry, "And I said, give back Hannah!"

Pause.

Listen attentively when I tell you this next part.

I swear to all that is holy, that I am a good person. I help others when I can, and do my allocated work. I say my pleases and thank yous, and I always greet my friends with a smile.

So you have to believe me when I say that my fist just did what it wanted too, with no permission from me.

Unpause.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Marth-May screeches, sprawled across the floor and clutching her bleeding, fake nose in agony.

I'm stunned for a moment. My knuckles are blanched white from how tightly my hand is fisted. I shake off my momentary shook and resume a furious expression.

"No-one, not even you and your gang, will ever say anything undermining about me or my friends and get away with it. Are we clear?" I seethe, hatred dripping from my every word.

She remains on the cold, hard ground, breathing unsteady and cupping her nose as a trail of bloods seeps through her fingers. I see the mix of surprise and unadulterated abhoration in her gaze, and tense every muscle in my body.

Apparently, we aren't clear because three seconds later, she launches herself at me and splatters bright, red blood all over my new shirt.

The. Audacity.