Chapter 5 — I Want Her

Eliana's POV

Now, I was already seated in my classroom waiting for the teacher to come in.

The room had that usual pre-class energy of low conversations, the sound of bags being unzipped, someone's playlist leaking through their earphones loud enough for the whole row to hear. As much as I know, that was normal and manageable. You know, it was the kind of noise that was easy to tune out when you had something to focus on.

I was still previewing my classwork, pen moving across the margin where I'd flagged something from yesterday's notes that didn't sit right with me, when the noise of cheers from almost the whole class caught me unaware.

I looked up.

Ms. Steph, our form teacher, was walking in — and the two guys were right behind her.

I set my pen down slowly.

Of all the classes in this school. Of all the form groups, all the possible classrooms they could have been assigned to … they walked into mine. Both of them. Together. Like the universe had looked at my morning and decided it wasn't complicated enough yet.

At this point, I could tell that there was more to this than just some coincidence or mere dream like I tagged it earlier. I just didn't know what to do with that feeling yet, so I pushed it to the back of my head and kept my face neutral.

The cheers hit a whole new level the closer the two of them got to the front of the class. It was becoming unusual … not the excitement itself, because new students always got a reaction at Bentley High — but the ‘intensity’ of it. Like the room temperature had physically gone up by several degrees the moment they walked in.

It was honestly distracting my concentration, the noise that kept building by the second, pulling my attention away from the corrections I was trying to make in my notes. I pressed my pen a little harder against the page like that would help me focus.

But, it didn't.

Ms. Steph and the two new guys were already at the centre front of the class, and she turned to face us with that expression she used when she needed the room to actually listen.

"Class." She let the word land first before continuing. "Please welcome our new transfer students … Darius Hills and Rylan Daman."

And that was all it took.

The side talk started right away. The girls around me were already losing it completely.

"Oh my God, they're even hotter up close—"

"Which one is taller? Wait, they're both tall—"

"Did you see the way he walked in? Who walks like that as if he is a god?"

I kept my eyes on my notebook and said nothing.

The form mistress raised her voice slightly over the noise. "So, they will need to shadow someone for the first week. I will need two volunteers … anyone interested?"

She barely got the sentence out.

Before she finished, I bet you that more than half the girls in the class had their hands in the air … if not all of them. Their arms were stretched up like this was the most important vote of their academic careers. And the funny thing was, the guys in the class weren't even left out. They raised their hands too, looking all kinds of eager about it, which was something I had to actively stop myself from side-eyeing too hard. I mean, you could see it written all over their faces in that specific kind of excitement that made you tilt your head and wonder things. Or were they some kind of gay, or something not far-fetched from that. Not that it mattered though. I just found it interesting.

Sara, naturally, went above and beyond.

She had her hand up so fast and so high it looked like she was trying to physically touch the ceiling. And even that apparently wasn't enough, because she shifted forward in her seat and added her voice to it too, like the hand alone might get missed out.

"Ms. Steph," she said, with that particular tone she used when she wanted to sound both reasonable and inevitable at the same time, "as cheer captain, I know this school better than anyone. So you should obviously pick me." She even threw in a light laugh at the end, like there was something charming about what she'd just said.

I genuinely didn't know what was funny. But that was Sara for you.

Honestly, I didn't give a single thought to any of this. I didn't care, for real. My hand stayed exactly where it was, which was on my desk, holding my pen — and I got my eyes back on my classwork, scanning through the section I'd flagged, making slight corrections in the places I felt needed it.

Let them fight over the privilege of ‘babysitting’ two transfer students for a week... for all I care. That was left for them to deal with and not even the least of my problems today.

I was mid-correction on a formula in my notes when the voice cut through everything else in the room.

"I want her."

It was calm. Not loud. But it carried in the way that certain voices did … the ones that didn't need volume because the room just naturally made space for them.

I wasn't sure who said it. But somehow I felt it, could bet on it to a fault, that it was one of the new guys — because this was their moment, their decision, and the weight behind those three words had that kind of authority to it.

Even with that, I looked up to satisfy the curiosity already rising deep in me.

And every single pair of eyes in the classroom was already on me.

Not on Sara, whose hand was still half-raised. Not on the girl in the front row who'd been angling for Ms. Steph's attention since the question was asked. Not on any of the many, many people who had very loudly and very enthusiastically volunteered.

Rather, it was on me.

'What the hell.’

I hadn't volunteered. I hadn't moved. I hadn't even looked up until ten seconds ago.

So, why do they want to drag me into this? I really don't know if the universe chose to work against me today…of all days.