"It's like I'm living it again. I hate it," she groaned, running a hand through her hair.

"Don't think so much about it, Clara."

She chuckled dryly, shaking her head.

"Hey." I grabbed her arm and pulled her closer, spinning her around to look at me.

She blinked, her body crashing against mine while she tilted her head up to look at me.

"You're here for a new life. I know you can't ever really completely move on from it. But you can try. And just because she isn't here physically, doesn't mean she isn't here and she doesn't love you."

"I try so hard to move on from it, Callum. But it was very scary," she said softly. "I was going to die. How does someone recover from that?"

"I know it's hard, but—"

"Have you lost someone?"

I stared at her in silence for a minute. "No," I responded.

"Then let's not talk about this."

"But—"

"Please?"

"Fine," I sighed in defeat.

She moved to take a step back but I grabbed her waist, pulling her closer. "What?" she asked.

"You have a wish," I said, brushing it off her cheek and placing it on the back of her hand before letting her go.

She turned to the view, stared at it for a minute, and then blew the wish away.

"What did you wish for?"

"You know wishes don't come true if you tell them, right?" She shot me a pointed look. "But what I asked for can't come true anyway," she sighed. "I asked for my mom."

We stayed in silence for a little while.

"Clara?"

"Yes?"

"Have you really only had one boyfriend before?"

"Yeah, why?"

"It just... doesn't seem like that would be the case."

"Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?"

I cringed at the way that came out. "It's supposed to mean you're pretty. I'm convinced more than one guy asked you out."

"Well, I could say the same thing about you. Looking at you, you would think girls fall at your feet. They do, actually. They're just too scared to do anything about it," she chuckled. "I never had time for a relationship. Until I was fifteen, I was not very social. I had my friend group and that was it. And then at fifteen, I got with my ex-boyfriend and we only broke up right after the accident."

"So, you were really with a douchebag like him for two years?"

"He wasn't that bad with me. Or maybe he was and I never realized it. I don't know," she shrugged. "But how is it that you've only had one girlfriend?"

"I've only liked that one girl."

"Oh, picky aren't ya?" she laughed.

Does she know that a picky guy like me actually likes her?

"Has a girl ever asked you out?"

"Yeah, once or twice since then. I always say no."

"Why? Even if they have potential?"

"Every girl has potential," I replied. "I just... wasn't interested in being with someone again."

"Wasn't."

"What?" I turned to her in confusion.

"You used past tense. Are you perhaps interested in being with someone again?" she smirked.

"That depends. Who are we talking about?" I retorted.

"Someone like... what's her name? Bella, is it?"

"Brody's girlfriend?"

She nodded.

"No, sorry but no. She's um, not my type," I chuckled, scratching the back of my neck.

"Because she's...?" she trailed off questioningly.

"Blonde," I answered.

"Oh, you like brunettes then?"

I nodded.

"How about... Daisy?"

"I think she's better off with Wyatt. They have a good dynamic."

"True, very true," she agreed. "How about someone like—"

"You?"

She blinked in surprise, looking at me. "Me?"

I nodded slowly, shrugging. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" she chuckled, raising her brows at me.

"Maybe," I smirked.

"Why? What was your ex like?"

I rolled my eyes, "Crazy bitch."

"Whoa, okay," she laughed. "Wow. Really?"

I nodded in confirmation. "Crazy bitch."

"Jesus," she chuckled.

"We should get out of here. Classes will be over soon," I suggested. We both started heading inside and I started thinking of how we'd get out. I normally teleport. But surely, this stupid door opens. Unless this place is only meant for people with magic, shit.

"What about me?" I asked, trying to distract her.

"Huh?"

"Am I your type?"

"Hmm, yeah. Why not? You're nothing like my ex. He was blonde, you're not. He was a dick, you're not. It's highly possible," she chuckled.

I looked up at the lights, dimming them out.

"Oh, what happened?" she asked, grabbing my arm.

"It's okay, these are always dimming out. Come on." I made sure she was still holding onto me. "Just give me a second to find the opening," I lied.

"You're telling me this happens to you on a regular basis? I think something just touched my leg."

"There's nothing here," I chuckled, bracing my hand on the wall. Then I teleported us through to the other side of the door.

Her grasp on my arm tightened as she stumbled. That's right, it makes us woozy.

"You okay?" I chuckled, steadying.

"What the hell was that? We just came through that door."

"Yeah, so?" I shrugged.

"No, like through it. Completely through it."

"You're probably dizzy because we were in the dark and now we're in a really bright room."

She looked up, squinting at the bulb. "Maybe," she mumbled.

I started taking her back to her room after that.

"Can I ask you something?" she inquired.

"Yeah?"

"That day in history, when we were here for the assignment. You said you knew me. How? Why?"

I can tell her this. Half of it, at least.

"You have been to Ilea before," I began. "I met you. When we were like... three years old, I think. Your grandfather was on the council board at the time and your parents and you were visiting. You came with your dad to the palace once. I met you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"We were really little, maybe that's why you don't remember."

"Desmond, Desmond, Desmond," she said as it dawned on her. "That's why you kept asking about my last name. Because you knew my grandfather and my dad. Isn't it?"

I nodded, confirming her doubts.

"So... I met you when we were three?"

"Yeah. We didn't really uh, like each other, per se."

"I see things have changed for the better then," she giggled.

"Yeah," I smiled, both of us heading upstairs to her room. We walked in and then I grabbed my stuff, putting it all in my bag and zipping it up.

"Are you leaving?" she asked, leaving her books on her desk.

"Yeah. Unless there's anything else you need? We'll meet at dinner?"

"Yeah. Oh here, don't forget." She held out the copy of Delirium.

"Right," I nodded, taking it from her. "See you later."

"See ya," she nodded.

"Bye darlin'," I blurted out.

She laughed, "Bye hun'."

I pulled my bag over my shoulder.

"See yourself out. I'm going to take a shower, bye." She went into the bathroom and then I left her room, closing the door from the outside.

I turned to go into my room but then I heard who I knew for a fact was Atticus, talking about Clara.

"What's up with her and Callum? Didn't you see her first?" That sounds like Ethan.

"Just because I saw her first doesn't mean she'll like me more than him," Atticus replied.

"Do you want her to like you?" Finn should just learn to keep his mouth shut.

"I don't know. She doesn't seem so special to me," he said.

"No, she seems special to Callum though," Finn said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I think he likes her."

"But she's barely been here a week."

"And they've spent every single day together. Think about it."

Atticus clicked his tongue, "So what? If she's so special to Callum then he can keep her. I don't want her."

"I know you don't want her. But Callum does."

"So?" Atticus huffed.

I leaned against the wall, listening to the silence.

"Are you saying I should steal her? So he can't have her?"

"Isn't it about time? After what he did to Kiara?"

I fisted my hands, holding my breath.

"Kiara has nothing to do with Clara. They're nothing alike," Atticus said. He's getting angry.

"So? Callum liked them both. And when Kiara chose you, he—"

"Enough, stop talking about this shit. What I do with Clara is my decision. You guys can stay out of it."

When their footsteps got closer, I went into my room. I set my bag on the floor and sat down on the bed, knocking my shoes off. I dragged my hand down my face.

The night is coming up next week too. I know for a fact that Atticus won't let it go without causing a scene.

"Shit," I mumbled to myself. I stared out the window where the sun had slowly started setting, painting the sky in bright oranges, pinks, and purples.

She has to stay away from him. I have to make sure of that.

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