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The lunch time hall is as busy as usual.
The buzz of hundreds of voices with occasional bursts of female shrieks and thunderous roars of boys’ guffaws vibrates the walls and floor in the hall. An occasional argument will ignite without a warning but will be extinguished just as promptly by a PE teacher, who tells boys to take it outside or to the headmaster’s office.
I’m relieved when I see my table remains empty in the corner of the hall. I sprint to it, hoping that my presence will discourage anyone else from joining me and the nearby rubbish bins will finish the job for me.
Basking in a brief feeling of relief and freedom, I slowly peel my orange while looking around the hall, watching free shows of macho competitions and Miss Popularity contests, when a new group walks through the doors.
Sam, with Daisy by his side, and her girlfriends with an array of school athletes as their boyfriends. The group stops by the doors for a few seconds, long enough to scan the hall for the best table and to give everyone a chance to appreciate the beauty of Sam and Daisy together.
I’m about to roll my eyes and get back to my orange when Sam’s eyes meet mine and a wide gorgeous smile takes over his lips, highlighting that irresistible dimple on his cheek. My hand with the orange freezes midway to my mouth and I gape, mouth open, as he turns on the spot and decisively makes his way towards me.
It takes Daisy a few steps in the opposite direction before she realises that her trophy is no longer following her, and as Sam approaches my table, more heads turn in our direction and slowly the chatter in the hall dies to a murmur.
Everybody’s stunned. Daisy, me, every student in the hall. Everyone but Sam. Relaxed and graceful, he pulls out the chair next to me and reclines his big frame in the most elegant and confident manner, stretching out his long legs.
Still with my mouth open and my orange segment suspended in mid-air, I stare at him, scrambling in my brain for something smart or sassy to say.
Keeping his tranquil smile, Sam reaches for my orange and, with the refined elegance of a king, separates a segment and sends it into his mouth. I’m transfixed by the motion of his beautiful and long fingers touching his full lips. Mind blank, I follow his motions with my eyes like a mouse caught in the gaze of a cobra.
“How you doing, babe?” His velvety voice pulls my eyes finally from his lips. Snapping my eyes to his, I plead with myself to muster the cool, although I fear that that miserable train left the station long ago.
“Hum...” The sound coming out of my mouth is mousy and scratchy. I clear my throat and try again.
“Fine. You?” My voice is more audible but still sounds pathetic.
“Oh, thank you for asking. I’m perfect. Your orange is really sweet and juicy by the way. I like it”.
He gives me his charming half smile and a conspiratorial wink, and a feeling of an unspoken innuendo floats above the table.
I clear my throat again.
“Why are you here? Daisy is waiting for you”, I say, waving my hand to where Daisy still stands, frozen to the spot.
“Well, maybe I don’t want to eat lunch with Daisy today. Had you thought of that?” A twinkle of mischief bounces in his eyes.
“Sam, everyone is looking. Why don’t you go and make up with Daisy? Whatever spat you two had, I really don’t want to get in the middle of it”, I say, glaring at him.
“There’s no spat, Mermaid. I never said that we are in a relationship or even worse, exclusive. She follows me around like a puppy and I let her. I’m just a friendly kind of guy”. He idly reaches out to my orange and takes another segment.
“You are a player kinda guy”, I say sternly, sounding too much like a teacher, even for my ears.
“That I am”, he says as a wide grin spills across his face, blinding me for a second.
“I hope you are not here to practise your ‘player’ skills. I’m not interested. In any of it”, I do another sweeping motion with my hand to include the entire lunch hall, slowly gathering its previous mojo.
“You are not interested in lunch?” he raises his eyebrows, mocking me.
“You know what I mean. Drama, boyfriends, cliques. I’m not interested in any of it. I’m here to study and get out as soon as I can”, I remark.
“I’m here to study too”, he pouts his beautiful lips like a toddler, looking at me from under his thick, black lashes.
I can’t help but laugh and he gifts me with another one of his dazzling smiles.
This must be the last straw for Daisy’s humiliation, as with a furious scowl, she stamps her foot, spins on the spot, and almost runs out of the hall. Suddenly awakened, her girlfriends follow her in hot pursuit, leaving their forgotten boyfriends to meander and find places to sit.
“You know I’m going to pay for that, right?” I sober, already imagining the crap I’ll get tomorrow.
“Eh, don’t worry about it”, he dismisses my worries with a wave of his hand and then reaches for another orange slice.
“Would you mind?” I lightly slap his hand before he has a chance to grab the rest of my fruit. “Get your own lunch”.
Slowly the lunch hall returns to its busy, loud self and nobody pays attention to us anymore.
“Ariel, we need to talk”, Rafe’s familiar voice says above me, bringing the smell of the ocean with him.
Resigned, I lift my eyes to find Rafe, standing expectantly next to our table. He is wearing a cheesed off scowl on his face. I don’t know what his problem is, but I’m definitely not going to let him take it out on me.
“I thought we agreed to stay away from each other”, I sigh, dropping my eyes fast, as the memory of the vortex still disturbs me.
I shoot a careful glance at Sam, who’s closely watching the furthest side of the hall and doesn’t make a move to participate in the conversation. Only the tension in his posture tells me that he is aware of the company.
“Ariel.” A calmer plea of my name sends shivers down my spine and raises the hair at the nape of my neck.
Why do I react to him like that? This sensitivity to him angers me.
“Rafe. Please. Enough”, I say, desperately trying not to yell and not to run. I’ve given enough entertainment to the lunch hall for one day. “You’ll force me to stop coming to school”.
Carefully Sam unfolds his long legs, turning in his chair to look at Rafe.
The air freezes a couple degrees as they stare each other down. The fierce scowl on Sam’s face changes his perfect features into something animalistic, while Rafe meets Sam’s glare with the stoic expression of an ancient marble statue.
Neither of them is backing down and the speed, with which the situation has escalated, feels like these two have been in this position before and they’ve simply picked up from where they left off.
The silent intensity of this standoff radiates its heady energy in wide circles, like ripples from a stone thrown into a lake. A few closer tables sense an upcoming fight and blood lust lightens the boys’ eyes, while girls squirm in their seats with excitement, murmuring something in hushed voices to their girlfriends.
“Rafe”, I call.
I’m doing my best at a stern voice, but the sound escaping me is more of a plea. When his eyes finally meet mine, he somewhat relaxes, settles, and after a few long seconds, exhales. I didn’t realise he was holding his breath.
“I’ll try to speak to you later. Trust me, you need to hear me out.”
And with that, he leaves the hall, dumping his entire tray into the bin on the way out.
Now it’s my turn to breathe out, only mine comes out with the high pitched farting noise of a rapidly deflating balloon.
“That was intense”, I mumble, eager to fill the quiet and as a way of apology.
“What was his problem?” Sam asks, returning to his cool and elegant self.
“I don’t know. He keeps saying he wants to talk, but the problem is I don’t want to talk to him”, I say.
“Some guys, huh? Don’t know how to treat a girl”, Sam winks at me.
“Well, thanks for all that excitement. I’d better go now, before lunch hall gets any more drama performances starring me”, I say as I get up, gather my bag and am about to pick up my tray when Sam scoops it in his big hands, dumping it for me on the way out.
“Thanks”, I say.
“Always a pleasure, Mermaid”, he smiles at me.
“Okay, let me walk you to your next class”, he says, once we are in the corridor, scanning it in every direction with exaggerated vigour like a professional bodyguard.
“Why?” incredulous, I look at him.
“So nobody else tries to talk to you while you are avoiding them”, he chuckles.
On the way to class, more curious glances inspect this unlikely duo, following us with a train of whispers and a fresh dose of gossip.
We stop outside my math class.
“Okay, Mermaid. I’ll see you after school, probably on the bus. Dad can’t give me a lift today so you’ll have the pleasure of my company on your ride home.”
Before I can interject with an excuse, Sam is off to his classes for the afternoon.