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This isn't the first time I've been to Clarke's house. In fact, it's the second. 

The first time was two years ago, in my first year of high school, Year Seven. It was before Clarke had his major growth spurt and before his voice broke. Straneg thins is that I can't think of it anything but the way it is now, deep. We had our geography project on mapping, longitude and latitude. It was due the following week and we had both agreed we'd more done with more room and a quieter environment.

Mum dropped me off at the end of the Torelli's driveway. I cautiously walked up carrying the large maps in my arms, having to peek around them to see where I was walking. Mum drove off, saying she'll pick me up at five after her shift at the Hospital. I made my way to their large red door. I rung the door bell and it emitted a couple notes from Jingle Bells. It was only October. I straightened out my skirt as I heard footsteps approach.

His dad opened the door, smiling cheerfully.

"Ah, this must be Clarke's study buddy!" he welcomed in an Italian accent. I didn't know Clarke's dad had an accent, Clarke didn't... so I naturally assumed that the Italian accent was higher up in the tree.

"Hello, Mr. Torelli," I replied, trying to be as polite as possible.

"Please, call me Alberto!" he ushered me in, "Clarke! Petria's here!"

I stood by the entrance nervously, having no idea what I was meant to do next. Clarke came racing down the hall, sliding on his white socks, "Hey Petria!"

I poked my head around the maps, "Hey, Clarke."

"Let me help you with those," Clarke said and grabbed all the maps from me. I was quite short back then, a little over 145cm, but Clarke had a good 10 cm on me, even though he hadn't hit his growth spurt yet. His house was quirky but clean, cute family photos and elaborate paintings donned the walls. Arches gave the house some character. Open space living gave it a modern look. It made my apartment look lonely.

"Thanks," I squeaked, unsure of myself.

"Mum's made biscuits for us," he said, "But Nell and Aless took like, eight."

Nella and Alessandra, are Clarke's older twin sisters by four years. They are identical, but each unique in their own way. Nella has long wavy burgundy Ombre dyed hair whilst Aless stuck to her natural toffee brown hair. Nella is quiet but funny in a subtle way. Aless is more out there and extroverted. I knew this because Nella and Aless were on the Student Council and did all the announcements at the start of each morning.

"Wow, what type?"

"Orange and dark chocolate," Clarke replied, as we entered his room.

"Yum," I sighed, and that time I actually meant it, back in those days where I actually enjoyed food.

His room smelt really nice, like mint and ginger. His bed was pushed into a corner, a blue and white checked bed spread clad over it, and the floor was surprisingly clean. Badminton gear was tucked away into a corner and above his desk he had Star Wars posters decorating the wall. Everything had a place, it was all in some sublime order and if I were to disrupt that the earth would crumble.

I've must've been staring at something, because Clarke spoke up, "What?"

"...It's just really... clean."

"Well you didn't expect me to make you work all over my shuttlecocks, did you?"

I couldn't help but laugh, "I don't know..."

"Put your stuff down on my bed and we'll go get the biscuits."

I put down my bag on the bed and Clarke leans the maps against the wall. The wall was painted a light neutral grey.  He led me into the kitchen, sliding on his socks again. He caught Aless and Nella taking more biscuits from a decorative plate. The twins looked as guilty as humanly possible. 

"Hey!" Clarke laughed at them, "mum baked them for us."

"Just one?" Aless asked, then smiles at me, "hey, Tria!"

Nella put the biscuits back, "We'll save them for you, Tria, not Clarke-y here."

"Thanks," I grinned, and Clarke took the plate, rolling his eyes at his sisters, but grinned. 

The twins hurried off laughing with each other to the lounge room. 

"Now for the real fun," Clarke sighed, "don't you just love calculating the longitude and latitude of European capitals?"

"Hey, it's my favourite past time!" I commented sarcastically.

He screwed up his nose on my direction.

Once we were back in his room, we laid the maps on his bare floor and ate a biscuit each. They were delicious, one of the best biscuits I had ever eaten. We set to work on the maps, using rulers and every bit of information written on the sectors and lines. We joked the whole time about the latest songs and issues on the news, and chowed down on the biscuits.

"These are actually amazing," I moaned in delight and my mouth was filled with an explosion of flavour.

"It's the Torelli's secret recipe," he whispered, "been passed down from generations to generations."

"Ha, the Kafkas have a quinoa salad recipe," I scoffed, "not sure if it's secret though, Mum and Dad love it so much they give it to practically everyone who comes over."

Clarke grinned,"But it tastes good, right? That's what's counts."

"Oh, it's delicious," I promised, "I'd eat it all day if I could."

If only I couldn't feel so guilty and raw when I swallowed glass shards (whoops, food), now.

"I bet, I'd like to try some," Clarke grabbed another biscuit.

"I'll have to sneak you a bite sometime," I laughed.

"Yeah," he replied, and looked at me for a moment longer than I found comfortable. He suddenly looked away with the tips of his ear turning pink.

Something confused me back then, whenever our hands touched he would suddenly jerk his away and look away. I didn't get it because I was naïve and innocent, didn't worry about crushes or wrapping myself in the race to get the 'best boy' first. It was the time where Klaer was poking and pinching me with subtle acts, rumours and whatnot. I hadn't started bothering me yet, I brushed it aside. I only wish I could go back in time and asked my past self how I did it, how I ignored her.

We finished working on the longitude and latitude (after two hours of slaving away by a map) of the European capitals and started working on the PowerPoint. My hip cracked as we got up, and Clarke poked his tongue out at me and asked if I needed a hip replacement. 

"Would you like a cup of tea? I'm parched," Clarke asked after we had done the title slide.

"Yes please, who knew title slides could be so exhausting!" I smiled.

"Come on," he put out a hand and without thinking I grabbed it and he pulled me up. His fingers were extremely cold, but his palm was warm and inviting. The tips of his ears turn pink again and I pat him on the shoulder before he shook back to reality and led me out.

He smiled as he filled the kettle, "What type of tea do you like?"

"Uh, whatever you're having?"

"Italian Earl Grey?" he asked.

"Isn't it 'French' Earl Grey?"

"Nah this stuff is from dad's most recent visit, it's got bergamot orange in it."

"What's bergamot orange, a glorified orange?"

"They're kind of like limes I guess," Clarke shrugged, and we waited in silence until the kettle boiled.

We took our cups of tea to his room and sat on the floor, leaning on his bed, forgetting about the project. I took a small sip of the tea, getting a burst of citrus and pain, "Ah, it's too hot."

"Don't burn your tongue, if you do, don't stick it in ice, it deepens the burn,"

"Oh um... yeah Mum told me that, she's a nurse."

Clarke's eyes widened, "Your mum is a nurse, that's so cool!"

"Yeah, I guess it is," I shrugged.

Clarke took a sip of his tea, "Nah, it's amazing!" he looks down uncomfortably, "I want to be nurse, when I grow up, you know?"

"You'll have a messed-up body clock, with day and night shifts," I replied.

He traced a pattern on the carpet,"I know, but I just want to help people, and medical science really intrigues me. It's amazing how the human body works, I don't know how God-"

Clarke stopped dead in his tracks and I nudged him, "You believe in God?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, "I'm a Christian. You couldn't tell?"

I shake my head, forgetting my manners as I was so intrigued,"Not really, was I meant to?"

"No, I guess not," He taps his shoes together, "Are you religious?"

I hesitated, not wanting to offend him, I searched for the right response placing my cup of tea on the carpet, "I wasn't raised to be religious, but I was taught to accept people and their religions. I guess I'm open to joining a religion if I believe what they believe."

"What do you believe in?" Clarke asked, his fingers trailed to a small thin goldenchain around his neck, he untucked the necklace, with a small golden cross. I moved closer to him so our hips were touching and took the necklace between my fingers, I looked into his eyes, and for the first realised how breathtakingly deep and brown they were. 

"I don't know how to explain-"

"How do you think the world formed then?" he interrupted, his eyes filled with some sort of eagerness. I placed the cross back on his chest. And he suddenly exhaled as if he were holding his breath. 

"I can't believe in the 'Big Bang' theory because I struggle with the fact that out of completely nothing, everything just appeared," I clicked my fingers, "just like that. And I feel it's safer just to have no opinion, because the society's a bit like, 'express your opinion, but not if it's the wrong opinion!'. And then you're stuck in a corner so it's best if you just shut up and say nothing."

Clarke nodded, "yeah exactly, I'm scared that, I don't know... in a couple years' time something will happen that us Christians don't agree with and we're criticised and hated because of it. But it's not fair if we're scared into silence."

"You shouldn't be scared, Clarke," I replied in a small voice, my hand starting to shake. "Society is so stuck in concrete with their choices and opinions, sometimes it's hard for others to make them budge." 

He was silent for a moment, then picked up his cup and took a sip of tea, "So, what do you want to do when you... grow up?"

I feel suspicious at his sudden change of subject, but brush it off, "When I was little I wanted to be a police officer."

He smiled at that, "What do you want to be now?"

"That's the problem," I took a sip of my tea, my hand shaking again "I don't know anymore, sometimes I wonder who I am because I tend to forget."

"Like you have existential crises?"

"Yeah," I sighed, "But I've been loving our economics unit, I wouldn't mind being an economist of sorts."

Clarke laughed. A genuine, warm, hearty laugh, and my hand stopped shaking. I couldn't help but realise when he laughs he has the slight dimples in his cheek, barely visible but still there. I anted to reach out and touch them.

"Does it sound boring?" I asked.

"Of course not, just, I don't imagine you sitting at a desk all day, I imagine you doing something more exciting."

"So you do think it's boring," I laughed.

His lips pulled into a smile, "You know Tria, you're the only girl I feel comfortable talking about this stuff with. All the other girls in our grade are strange, you know?"

"My best friend Mianna isn't so bad," I argued, "but none of the other girls really like me."

"I don't know Mianna very well, I just see her with you all the time. But I feel like I can tell you anything and you won't judge me or think I'm weird."

"Why would I think you're weird?"

"Most girls do, because I'm shorter than other guys."

"Well you'll taller than me, and plus, you'll have your growth spurt," I assured, nudging him, "And it can't be as bad as me, one boy in my Primary School refused to speak to me because he was afraid if he breathed too hard he'd blow me away."

Clarke laughed again, and the dimples appeared, the small, barely visible dimples, "Who was that?"

"One of your friends, Christopher Marigold."

"Really? Well actually, I can believe that." 

"What time is it?" I asked, growing wary of the fact it was getting darker outside.

"Almost five o'clock. I'm pretty certain we'll get the project done by Wednesday. Your mum is picking you up in a couple minutes, right?"

"Yeah, unless she tells me otherwise," I glug down my tea, "We've done well today, Clarke."

"Thanks for coming over, I hope you didn't have any other plans today," he smiled at me, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Nah, I have my weekly documentary tonight though, at six thirty."

"The David Attenborough one on channel ten?"

"Yes, do you watch the series?"

"Of course, that guy is genius!" Clarke's chocolatey eyes lit up like a firework.

"It's science-y though," I grimaced.

"That's why I love it!"

I screwed up my nose, no, I didn't like science even then. Aless sticks her head through the door, "Sorry to break up your party, but your mum's here, Tria."

"Okay, thank you," I grinned.

"I'll look after the maps if you want." Clarke suggested.

"Thanks, I guess I'll see you on Monday then," I stood up and Clarke followed, "What would you like me to do with the cup?"

He extended his hand, "I can take it," I passed him the mug, our fingers touched for just a second, and the were slightly warmer from clasping his cup, and grabbed my bag.

"Thanks for having me over Clarke."

"Anytime," he beamed, "...I mean, it was fun. Thanks for just listening to me."

"You have a nice voice," I blurted, I could feel the heat spreading over my face, "I mean, you have good things to sa-"

He brings his face close to mine and I can feel his breath on my nose, "Don't fret, Tria."

I gently push his face away, noticing how warm his cheeks were, "I won't, Clarke."

He walks me out, dropping the cups off at the kitchen and taking me to where Clarke's dad and my Mum.

"Nah, she was good Samantha, barely heard a peep from the two."

Clarke side eyes me suspiciously, "They're talking about us."

"At least it's good things."

Mum greeted me with a forceful hug, and I got a face full of her hospital scrubs, "hef mam."

"You ready to go?" she asked as I stepped back away from her clothing. 

I looked back at Clarke, "Suppose I have to, huh?"

"Well we've got the laundry to start, the vacuuming, dishes..."

I groaned, "Yayyyyy..."

Alberto laughed, "Don't worry, Clarke and the girls will be doing the same here," he ruffled Clarke's hair.

"Yayyyyy..." Clarke groaned.

As mum and I left, I couldn't help but feel overly excited. Something about that day made me feel over the moon, like nothing better has happened to me before. That was the day when perhaps I started developing feelings for the half-Italian boy, my mind just didn't register for a couple years. I remember having one single thought: maybe I've got two friends now, Mianna and Clarke.

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Above I have attached the trailer for the documentaries on Africa which Clarke and Petria watched, if you are interested. 

I thoroughly hope you are enjoying the story so far, because I'm enjoying writing it. I really wonder if these characters have been with me all along and just fighting to get out of my head and into these chapters instead?