the Dancing one | O4E 3

Chapter Seven

I sat in the library Wednesday evening, waiting for Landon to arrive after Group. I'd seen him walk passed me about three times already and assumed he was trailing some poor unfortunate girl around, and would join me when he deemed it appropriate.

His lack of enthusiasm for Context was already a bane to my existence. And, his and Carmen's chorie the lesson before had done nothing to make me think this was going to get any easier. Especially when he was thinking with his mating head.

My phone vibrated and I looked down to see Landon was calling me.

"Yeah?" I answered, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear only to feel it spring free again. I stuck my pencil in my mouth as I swapped the books in front of me.

"Where the hell are you?" he spat.

"What?" I answered around the pencil.

"I've looked everywhere for you, where are you?"

"I'm near the 820s."

He sighed heavily, "fine," and hung up.

I looked at my phone in surprise, as though it had any answers for me, and went back to my work. A few minutes later, Landon arrived in a serious huff, dropping his books onto the desk next to me aggressively.

"Are you still in a grump?" I asked, not deigning to look at him.

"When we say meet at five, I expect to meet at five, Kira," he said.

I looked up at him through my fringe. "I've been here since I got out of class, Landon," I replied, surprised he got my name right.

He spluttered. "Well, I didn't see you here."

"You walked passed me three times," I stated, waving my hand backwards and forwards and giving him my 'none-too-impressed' look before going back to my books. Seems his ability to see me had disappeared with the resurfacing of his ego.

He dropped down beside me and leant over, but I slammed my chorie book shut.

"What are you working on?" he asked. "Some poetry crap?"

I rolled my eyes and found my Context reader. "Sure, Landon, why not."

"Uh..."

I looked at him, waiting for him to finish that which he'd started so eloquently.

"Uh, how has was your weekend?"

I blinked a few times. "Let's not pretend you give a stuff about this tutoring thing, shall we?"

"It's a part of my scholarship, thank you, I have to give a stuff, as you put it."

"Well, you're doing a wonderful job of it," I answered sarcastically. "I'm doing fine, you don't need to involve yourself in my studies."

"If you fail, I fail. I might not do poetry, but I can help with what I can," he said, and there was almost a note of sincerity to his voice that reminded me of Max.

I sighed and looked at him. "My discipline work is going fine, thank you. My final assessments could do with some work, but otherwise, I'm doing fine. How's your Context?"

He looked at me like he was waiting to see if I was lying, then shrugged. "It's a load of wank, as usual." He gave me a smirk that I would have thought was charmingly cheeky if I wasn't so annoyed by him.

"Yeah, well, you might have beaten Max with that load of wank if you'd paid enough attention," I muttered.

"And, what would you know about it?" he demanded.