In our midday class, mathematics, Mianna and I watch Klaer closely, wary of her every move and her murderous glances back at us. She flicks her hair every three and a half minutes, looks at her talons- sorry -nails, instead of doing the equations on the board. When the teacher class on her to answer, she knows it nonetheless.

"How does she do it?" I wonder, staring at an incorrect answer on my page.

"She was copying off Tremayne's," Mianna whispers back, "Klaer tells us she isn't dating him, but they always sit next to each other and flirt in maths."

"She flirts with every guy," I mutter under my breath, "so saunter, flick hair, look at nails, copy answers and flirt relentlessly?"

"Is how not to get a guy," Mianna coughs, scribbling down answers.

"How do you then?"

The teacher turns around and stares at us, she must've heard our whispering, "Do you have something you'd like to share with the class, Mia? Tria?"

My eyes flicker to Klaer and she rolls her eyes at us, again.

"Yeah, the answer to question seven is incorrect, it's actually point two eight, not point three three. You asked us to round as we go, not at the end," Mianna replies confidently.

Klaer's answer was to Question Seven, I feel slightly happy in the wrong way.

"Why yes, Mia, you are right," Ms. Nxych (pronounce Nich, yes, it's confusing) replies and looks disappointingly at Klaer.

Mianna sighs, "Must she call me Mia?"

"You never corrected her," I say and she clucks her tongue.

The bell finally rings and we are dismissed. Klaer cuts us off, sashaying out of the classroom, bad on one shoulder talking to Clarke Torelli. He looks awkward and made an excuse and leaves her. She flicks her hair and walks (saunters) away as if nothing had happened. But she looks just as annoyed as she does when I dare open my mouth in her presence.

My eyes wandered to Clarke, who is sitting down on his usual bench by the Big Oak Tree. He's chatting away with one of his friends, Christopher Marigold. Chris looks back at Klaer and Clarke shakes his head and mimes vomiting. He catches my eye for a second, and a smile flashes across his face. His eyes are endlessly brown. So brown and endless they captivate my very soul... (I must've inherited my Mum's love for eye colour). His smile lingers for a few more moments than usual.

"Tria?" Mianna touches my forearm and I take off in the direction of the Big Oak Tree, "Tria where are you going?"

"I know who it's gonna be now," I always did.

"Tria come back!" Mianna yells and I don't listen, "Petria, stop!"

Other 9th graders look after us and I ignore them, my eyes set on those brown eyes... endless.

"Petria Kafka!" Mianna screams, she looks around wildly at the bench and spots Darrin. She immediately goes quiet, blushing, just as I reach where Clarke sits.

"Petria?" Chris asks.

I take a

D E

E P

B R

E A

T H

"Clarke Torelli, will you go out with me?"

My face goes hot, my body follows. At the right moment, his friends 'oooh' and hit his back. Red patches form on Clarke's cheeks and the tip of his ears go pink. His endless brown eyes grow wide. My innards tie themselves into a knot, I find myself blushing and getting fidgety as I wait for an answer.

Mianna stands open-mouthed next to me, head turning from Darrin to me, to Clarke. Clarke stares at me, chocolatey eyes almost as wide as Mianna's mouth. I look down at my feet and observe the fact that one of my laces on black school shoes was loose.

"Petria," my head whips up, "Petria Kafka," he smiles.

"W-will you go out with me?" I repeat.

"Yeah will you, Clarke?" Darrin asks, standing up and leaning his elbow on Mianna's shoulder, causing her to blush (the pigment said 'he's so smooth!').

"Come on, Clarke," Chris laughs.

Clarke looks at them, glaring. His gaze turns towards me, with the endless eyes. He frowns. He stands up.

"Yes," he suddenly blurts. I blink.

"I'm sorry?" I'm shocked he said anything, more like.

"Yes. I, Clarke Torelli, will go out with you."

I search his eyes for an element of humour, but his face was nothing but deadly serious. Mianna does a little clap, hugs Darrin out of pure happiness (forgetting she likes him) and smiles, all white and dazzling.

His friends laugh at him and slap his back, he falls right into me and I get a whiff of his sweet, unforced scent. My stomach bubbles with excitement and (not thinking straight) I wrap my arms around him. I feel his arms embrace me and I ignore the exasperating teases coming from his friends.

We break apart and I'm nearly breathless. My face is hot and my palms are slightly sticky with sweat. Clarke is all smiles, and I have an urge to run my fingers through his hair, a similar colour to ANZAC biscuits, or roasted almonds that haven't been cut up yet. It looks so soft, so perfectly wavy.

Mianna grips my forearm and I turn my head in the direction in which she tugs. It's Klaer. She is staring at us, gaping at us and the look on her face is absolutely priceless. She's disgusted, jealous. But it doesn't give me the accomplished feeling I thought I'd get. In fact, the only emotion I feel is fuzziness. Clarke said yes! Clarke! Clarke Torelli, the Badminton captain. Clarke Torelli... the boy with the endless chocolate brown eyes.

"You two can sit with us if you want," Chris smirks.

Clarke looks back at Chris, he nods and sits back down. He pats the area between him and Theodore Hosking. I sit down and Mianna takes the only empty spot, next to Darrin, which makes her even happier. They go about eating my lunch and I look down at my wrist.

"You eating anything, Tria?" Clarke asks me after two minutes of silence amongst the whole group.

"I'm good," I whisper and take a sip of water. The boys begin to chat, but Clarke is just looking at me, almost worried. Mianna and Darrin are in some deep conversation with each other. I feel the need to say something to Clarke.

He beats me to it, "H-how did you get that scratch on your cheek?"

"Great conversation starter," Chris teases.

"No it's okay," I defend, "I walked into a tree," I'm already lying to him, "I'm uh... really clumsy."

He laughs, it sounds raw but bell-like, he tilts his head to one side, "I'm more mentally clumsy. If you know what I mean."

"Or socially," Theo remarks.

"It's okay," I commiserate, tapping him on the forearm, and we both flinch with sudden sparks. He looks up at me and we giggle (or chuckle in Clarke's case).

Clarke's cheeks are still red, and the tips-of-ears pink. He scratches the back of his neck and he catches me watching him and goes darker in the cheeks. I smile at his flustered state, he looks so adorable I want to cuddle him again and smell the fresh and unforced scent. Musky, rich but not overpowered. Natural.

"What?" he grins. I look down at my hands, smiling myself.

"Well, I would say nothing..."

"I get it," he chuckles.

The realisation hits me that asking him to be with me was not forced. He has been in the back of my mind all the time, and it annoyed me how Klaer always attempts to talk to him. My heart flutters whenever I see him, I felt on top of the world... but all this time I hadn't been accepting it. I was unconsciously crushing on him.