A Dark Night in July (I've fallen for the guardian of the undead)

I opened my eyes and yawned, stretching out my tired body. Above me metal mesh formed the base of the top bunk bed. I grabbed my watched from under my mattress and glanced at it. 9:50 am

'Huh,' I stood, pulling out a change of clothes, towel and toiletries bag. I headed for the bathroom.

The bathroom (like everything else at the Academy) was huge. Around fifty tiled, gleaming shower cubicles and toilets. A row of sparkling vanities covered the wall to my left. Floor to ceiling mirrors covered the wall opposite. Impressed, I staggered over tothe nearest shower.

Usually, I'm a morning person, but for some reason, I hadn't been able to sleep last night. Okay, I knew the reason, but I wasn't going to admit it to myself just yet.

I showered, dressed and did my hair and make-up. I hate not looking my best, even in front of my family. Mum always used to say that I was 'self conscious'. Not really. I was just vain.

My hair took forever, on account of I have a fringe, and if I blow dry it before it's finished drying, it flicks away from my face at the end, which looks ridiculous. I do everything with surprising care today.

It's not Jack, I insisted to myself. I just want to look nice today. That's all.

Liar! A voice in the back of my mind accused. I ignore it. I dress in the clothes I pulled out. I didn't pick them with any intention; they just happen to be my favourite mini-skirt, black tights and a low cut baggy tee. I ignore the voice again.

Flirt! It screeches.

So what? There's nothing wrong with that.

I shove wax and hairspray in my short hair, muss it a little and leave the bathroom.

I opened the door to my dorm. Elyse is awake, still dressed in pyjamas, her hair carelessly jammed into a bun. I turn away and grimace. Half awake, with no make up on, she still leaves me in the dust beauty-wise.

I tramped downstairs, heading for the kitchen. The kitchen light is one, and once again the door is open. This time though, I hear shuffling and the clatter of metal on china. I peer cautiously around the corner.

No fry pan this time.

Instead I see Jack, dressed in boxer shorts and a tee that swamps his tall, thin frame. He hasn't noticed me yet. A radio sings in the corner, fairly quietly. I can't make out the words, but I don't need to. Jack's belting out the chorus.

'No one ever had much nice to say, I think I never liked you anyway, Oh take me from the hospital be-ee-ed, wouldn't it be grand, it ain't exactly what you planned and wouldn't it be great if we, were, dead, oooh, dead.'

He continues singing, using a butter knife as a microphone.

I slip back around the corner, and walk noisily into the room.

He gets such a surprise he drops the knife. It lands on the floor with a metallic clatter.

'Il-Ily...' He manages, his beautiful eyes wide.

I give him a smile. 'Hey,'

My, my how the tables have turned,I reflect, amused. Now who's flustered and tongue tied.

Jack bends and retrieves the knife. When he straightens, he has the audacity to look calm. He doesn't look embarrassed at all. It's as if girls walk in on him screaming out the words of a song everyday.

He smiles. 'Good morning, Ily.' His toast pops up and he turns away. 'Did you sleep well,'

'Yeah. How 'bout you?'

I said it casually, all the while congratulating myself on coherent speech around this perfect person.

'Meh,' He shrugs. 'Not really.' He turns back and grins at me. My knees go weak.

'Not that I ever really do.'

He takes a bite of toast and leans forward. 'You know, you never really answered my question yesterday.'

I raise an eyebrow. Gooood. I encourage myself. Let him do all the talking.

He remains silent, looking up at me through his hair.His eyes bore into me. I swallow.

'What...question.' I ask slowly.

'What are you studying?'

'Oh, that,' I said, giving myself time to think.

Think! Think! What are you studying. My brain ignores me, moving at a snails pace.

'Uh, English Lit, poetry and art general,' I blurt out.

He continues to smile. 'Cool. I'm doing poetry as well. Maybe we'll be in the same class,'

I had two responses to that. The first one that I wanted him to hear, the second that I wanted just to think. Unfortunately, they got mixed up.

Cool. I thought.

'I hope so,' I said.

I silently called myself eight kinds of fool as he laughed. I smiled pleasantly, my heart racing.

I stand and shove a piece of frozen bread in the toaster.

'Spreads are in the top left cupboard, in the corner.' Jack informs me from the table.

'Thanks,' I mutter. Am I that predictable?

'What are you doing today?' He asks.

I look over at him, trying to gauge exactly what he means by that.

'Nothing,'

Jack grins. 'Good. I'm kidnapping you for a tour.'

I shake my head, not wanting to appear too eager.

His smile doesn't even falter. 'C'mon Ily, please?'

I turn back to my toast, and hear the scrape of his chair on the floor as he stands.

He comes to stand just behind me. 'Please?'

I turn and look at him, keeping my face deliberately blank. His eyes dance wickedly as he gazes down at me.

He leans closer. My heart decides that I'm running a marathon and begins to pound.

'Please?' He whispers, his smile gone, but his eyes laughing.

I turn away so he can't see my bite back a smile. 'Okay.'

'Cool,' He turns and walks out of the kitchen, throwing over his shoulder, 'Meet me in the common room in an hour, 'kay?'

'Okay...' I hug myself. This was going really, really well.
My toast pops up.
'Shit,' I mumble.

It's burnt to a crisp.