Her

09

PHOENIX

Aza clicks her pen a few times in all of the following classes. I don't know if she does it to annoy me or to try to get my attention or something. But either way, I don't react. One of the teachers asks me a question, which I can't answer. Aza whispers the answer, but I refuse to use it. Somebody else answers the question with the exact solution Aza gave me. It's right.

I manage to avoid seeing her at our lockers by simply not going there. At lunchtime, I hide in a closet - ironic, I know -, which is used as a storage room for old books and which I have discovered years ago. It's not as cramped and uncomfortable as it might sound. The closet is actually my favourite room in this building that is my school. It is in here that I have learned that books are greater company than humans.

After lunch - or avoiding humanity by hiding in a closet with books -, I go to drama class, which is one of the few classes I don't share with Aza. And after drama class, I leave the school building, about to go home.

Then I see her again, accompanied by her friends, walking towards a black old-looking car. Without really thinking about it I say, "Aza Ainsworth. Where do you think you're going?" With a quick movement I put my sunglasses on my head and a hand on my hip. I hope I look cool and sassy and not stupid. Aza's mouth falls open. I grin on the inside, knowing I've succeeded.

"I was just - I -"

" - forgot that we were meant to meet? Yeah, I've noticed."

Her mouth is still slightly opened. It makes her look a little silly, but also - I could slap myself - kind of adorable.

"I didn't forget. I just - just -"

"Just what? I really don't feel like wasting time listening to you stammering. Let's go."

"Well," Ky says, "have fun, you two."

"We most certainly won't," I say, turning around.

I start walking towards my car. After a while, I hear Aza's steps behind me. I unlock the car and enter it on the right side. I fasten my seatbelt and fix my sunglasses as well as driving mirror. A moment of hesitation later, Aza opens the other side of my car and sits down beside me. For a while we just drive in silence.

"Can I turn on some music?"

"I don't know, can you?"

I see her rolling her eyes, even though I'm looking at the road. She turns on the radio and skips through the stations. She's reminding me of Xander, who would do that too, sometimes with the purpose of annoying me. Annoying me was one of the things he loved doing. Sometimes it made me laugh, sometimes it made me mad. But I'd give anything to have him here now, annoying me. I wouldn't get mad, I wouldn't complain. He'd be alive, and it would make me happy.

"What are you staring at?"

We have stopped at a traffic light, and I'm staring at Aza, thinking about Xander. I'm also thinking about her pink-brown hair, how shiny it looks, how much I'd love to touch it, take that one strand of hair which is half falling into her face and tuck it behind her ear. Because I can't possibly say that, and because I don't think before talking, I say, "You", which is basically saying all which I don't want to say.

There's an almost familiar electricity in the air. Valentina Vos would lean forward now, take that one strand of hair and tuck it behind Aza's ear. She would grab Aza's face and lock lips, touch tongues. She would nibble Aza's ear, touch Aza's neck, kiss Aza's neck, suck Aza's neck. She would slowly let her hand travel, let her pale fingers travel over Aza's caramel skin. She would slip them under Aza's shirt, where it'd be warm, and finally she would let them slip into - a car honks. I remind myself I'm Phoenix LeFlore, not Valentina Vos. I clear my throat and go back to driving.