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Chapter 4.1

Thirty minutes into the class…

"I didn't get your name," I said to him, not looking up and still scribbling notes in my notepad at the end of the class.

“Cassiel.” He didn’t break the word into syllables.

I took a long breath. I needed to extend this conversation. From the corner of my eye, I observed him. “Cassiel, what is that you are scribbling? Is it long class notes on Dryden?"

“It’s your name stupid, see.” He quickly took up his notebook and flung it up in the air for me to view. He retrieved it immediately.

“Well, that was fast.” I was speechless.

“It was.” His long hands formed a protective circle on the piece of paper he was hazing from my eye’s glance. I caught a peep but both of his shoulders moved too quickly and shielded again whatever he was working on. I sighed because he was so fucking agile and handsome. The kind of handsome that makes it difficult to breathe around him unless you were making a conscious effort to make your body function, and work properly.

I snatched the piece of paper from his fingers playfully, but then I saw that it really had my name on it. But it was not what you would expect at the very moment. I was surprised like someone had pulled the rug from beneath my feet. Good thing I was already safely seated on a metallic chair.

It said, “An angel from the clashing winds of a sea, with folded wings waiting to fly in those unabated skies.”

“Woah, you write... That’s-that’s beautiful!” I choked on the beauty of this perfect sentence, which sounded a lot like poetry. I haven’t met a guy before who writes poetry or anything creative.

“Yeah, sometimes I write just random things. They actually make no sense whatsoever, lol.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his freckled neck with long fingers.

“By the way, I forgot to ask your name?” He raised his eyebrows, crinkling his long, pointed nose, but there was a playful note in his light voice and everything fell easy, whichever way he was going around me.

“It’s Lee. It’s actually Angelique. But yeah, my parents are weird. They chose to name me as a messenger, aka an angel.”

“Haha, you got me on that one.” He added, “Because you are one. . . nice girl. Angelique. Beautiful name.” He started laughing nervously, rubbing the nape of his neck as Mr. Freyer walked out of the class, trying to attend to a call that had been ringing and interrupting the class a second time.

I nudged him on the shoulder and threw a crooked smile of my own, “No, really, it’s actually similar and simplifies to being some befallen god’s messenger. But who the hell cares, right?"

“Cool. Yeah. No one cares. That's such a pretty name unless you’re screwing with me here.” He smirked at me with his cool confident persona.

“I don’t just screw with guys the first moment I see them.” Sassy. Yes. "Especially after they spill hot coffee on my shoulder and try to give me third-degree burns. I'm not a masochist, ya know?”

“Well, that’s good to know.” His bemused face was on the edge of giving us away as we silently whispered back and forth.

“Why is that?” I bit my lip slowly and evasively.

“Uh, nothing.” He was trying to be aloof like every other guy I’ve ever met.

There was a sudden wall that built itself between us, and it was as if no matter how hard I would budge it, I won’t be able to get through. Better be sassy than sorry.

“Well, if that’s how you get in girls’ pants, then it must be a long journey down there.” Get it girl.

“The journey matters, not the destination.” Wow. I wasn’t expecting this. What do I come back with?

“You’re such a dork.” Lame. I started laughing and he joined me. His blue eyes were crinkling at the edges, and they were clearer than when I saw them an hour ago. I was at a loss of words for the first time in my life.

“I just had to throw it out there. Sorry, I had to.” He was wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m glad. Now I know I’m not the only weird one, and also, I have gotten enough stuff from this conversation that will give me constant nightmares. Especially, about you trying to find the said destination.”

“At least they will be of a good kind, angel?” He curved his right eyebrow, smirking.

My face turned red.

“I guess so.” I tried to bite away the small smile from spilling on my lips like a waterfall.

“I know so.” He smiled and threw a wink casually at me before going back to his notes as if that kind of shit happens every day. The Greek God, smoking hot, just winked at me. Hallelujah!

Mr. Freyer walked back in, tucking his phone in the back pocket of his corduroy pants, and grasping the blue marker, and getting back to scribbling notes and circling Dryden on the whiteboard. We kept mum for the rest of the class because he just took my breath away and he had no idea about it.

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