take your memories i don't need them.
He hadn't spoken to her in weeks.
But why would he?
It wasn't as if she sat directly behind him, just close enough to smell his Drakkar Noir but no where near close enough for conversation. She spent her fourth period trying to pretend he didn't exist, but truthfully, she looked at him more than she looked at the board. Doodles of his name and broken hearts decorated the sparse notes she actually took, resolving instead to copy Kristen's later. If she failed Algebra I, he would be to blame.
After all, he was the reason she took the extra time to straighten her hair, the reason she was regularly late to the Range Rover every morning. She wore "Massie-approved" clothing not for the alpha but to catch his eye. She'd even settle for the less-favored blue eye. And yet, he refused to even glance at her, avoiding even the slightest of contact.
Then, it happened.
After a full month and a half of silence- not like she was counting- he turned around in his seat and asked her for a pencil.
She smile-nodded, grabbing her nautical striped tote off the dusty floor. Rummaging through her purse, she dug deeper, despite the perfectly sharpened pencils lying on top of the bag. He raised one eyebrow, silently questioning her actions. If they were speaking, he would have asked her what in the world she was doing. As it was, he wanted to receive a writing utensil using the least words possible.
Grasping a pale yellow pen triumphantly, she handed it to him, while he tentatively avoided brushing her fingers. He quickly spun around, jotting down a random fact with his newly acquired pen. On it, the name "Claire" was embossed, and he realized why she spent an unnecessary two minutes searching for this specific pen.
Just so he'd think of her.
disclaimer: i don't own the clique.
this idea came to me as i was chopping up bananas for my cookie dough ice cream. so if you don't like it, blame the sugar rush. :)