Alfie POV
Tick...Tick...Tick... the clock droned, twitching ever closer to 11. 11 meant lunch time. 11 meant 45 minutes with some of Alfie Michael Kaplan's favorite people: The FHS Photographers. He toyed with his new Canon 5DS R, just like he did in almost every class period. After nearly 80 years of high school, it was hard not to focus on his new tech. By his logic, as long as he pulled A's, he could focus on whatever camera he had at the time.
The bell squealed, bringing forth a loud shuffling noise from the AP Calculus class. As Alfie stood, a swish of fiery red hair caught his eye. He didn't recognize the ginger attached to it. She was tall and lovely, with pale skin befitting of an immortal and large green eyes. God, she was beautiful. Ridiculously so.
Okay, maybe "didn't recognize" was inaccurate. He'd seen the girl before, on a photography job at some dance studio. She was some tall ass dancer heralded as a prodigy. Alfie wasn't quite sure what to think about her. It wasn't like he'd actually met her. Was she really the crazy redheaded dance prodigy Jansen and Lindy said she was?
By the time he was done musing, she'd already left. In fact, pretty much everyone had left. He cringed, tossed his stuff in the bag behind him, and headed out the door. He adjusted his backpack as he walked, powering through all the FHS students that mulled about the hallway. It was finally time for Alfie to unwind for the week, doing what brought him joy.
Alfie reached up and slapped the top of the doorframe as he walked into the art studio, per custom. Lala and Garrett, two of the other photographers, lounged on one of the large, bar-style desks. They were probably everyone at FHS's favorite "will they, won't they" couples. He liked her, she liked him, but neither of them would admit it. They'd been voted "most likely to marry" all 3 years of high school and were expected to win yet again. Lala, or Lauren Rockwell, was probably the most intelligent student at FHS. She'd won numerous awards for almost every academic competition around and people loved her. Garrett Quentin was another intelligent, geeky, yet awesome guy who had earned the jealousy of every other male student in school because he "had" Lala.
Juliette Wills was seated near Lala and Garrett, reading a page book that was undoubtedly sci-fi fantasy. Her latest obsession—a series called "The Awakening of Kinds" was displayed across the grey t-shirt covering her non-existent chest. Juliette could've easily been described as every teacher's favorite. She was so sweet and innocent I could vomit. Her annoyingness, however, was somehow bearable.
"Mama's home!" Roxie Hart called, slapping the doorway in true Alfie fashion. She replaced the pencil formerly grasped between her teeth and traipsed in. Roxie took a seat on a table adjacent to Alfie. Her lavender-colored hair was piled on top of her head in some sort of elaborate bun, and she held in her hand a single copy of "My Name is Hanna, and I am Dead" The book haunted all of the FHS Photographers, but especially Roxie.
Hanna Meyers was a girl from FHS who had committed suicide. She was one of Roxie's best friends, that is, until prom night. A few of the seniors pulled a Carrie on her, and that was the end of Hanna. Later, her older brothers published a novel from her journal entries a la Anne Frank, but much less inspirational. Hanna was the reason they'd moved rooms. Hanna was the reason they did a lot of things now.
Roxie, Lala, Garrett, Juliette, and Alfie sat back and grinned at each other for the first time that week. Their sanctuary had begun. Or at least... that's how it seemed. But it wasn't. Not yet. The heavy oak door squeaked open slowly, revealing Mrs. Lannister, their sponsor. Behind her was the girl. The goddess-like redhead from earlier. She toyed with an old Polaroid camera hanging from the Button Poetry lanyard 'round her neck. "Guys, this is Elsie Cullen. She's a new student here. Since she's also a photographer, I wanted to let her in on our spring project. Is that okay?" Lannister explained, keeping a hand on the girl lest she run away, as had happened far too many times before. The club glanced among each other, collecting opinions. All agreed, and nodded to the woman in the doorway. She smiled and guided the girl in before shutting the door behind them.
"Okay, now that there are six of us, this project will be so much easier. We'll be in groups of two, and the subject: each other. Thirty photos each. You have three months. Go." Lannister explained in her blunt-as-could-be way. The group nodded and grouped up: Lala with Garrett, Juliette with Roxie, and Alfie was left with the girl. Aphrodite. Elsie.
She made it hard for him the breathe. No girl had ever even piqued his interest and now...Now his instant love for her was hitting like a ton of bricks. Love at first sight was a myth until happened to him. They walked over to a table and she smiled and he found himself tumbling to the floor with no warning. Dammit, Alfie. Why are you such a spaz? He reprimanded himself as he shoved hoisted his stony body from the stony floor. No vampire had ever been this damn clumsy, so why did this one girl make him tumbled like a... like a... human?
His musings came to an abrupt halt when Elsie tilted her head and spoke. "Are you okay?" she asked, a glint flickering across her lovely green irises. Up, down, Up, down. He told himself, bobbing his head along with it. She smiled a tiny bit and he was somehow blessed with a moment of clarity. They were the only ones not working. Lala and Garrett were across the room laughing and smiling at each other, looking into each other's eyes just as Alfie wished to do with Elsie. Roxie and Juliette were arguing over black and white vs acid washed finishes, Roxie using expletives that could make a sailor-or Elsie's legendary brother, Emmett-blush. And, of course, Lannister was grading papers. Elsie and Alfie were the only ones idle.
She sat at the table and took out a notebook. Her slim hand slipped under the smooth cover and snapped it open, exposing a pristine page. At the top, Elsie Cullen, Poet was scrawled, or more engraved, in a loopy script. "Nice journal," he commented, silently cursing himself the moment it slipped from his lips. A light flush wafted across her cheekbones, accented by an almost pearlescent sheen. It was like diamonds covered in canvas; it was almost...immortal. He was shoved from this thought by her wind-chimey voice. "Thank you, Alfie. My m-mother did the monogramming. She's been monogramming everything as of late." she said, stumbling a bit on the word "mother" he shrugged it off, wanting desperately to change the topic. Luckily, she did it for him with an artful dodge of, "So, how should we theme this?"
Alfie thought for a moment before replying, flipping a pen between his pale and nimble fingers. Suddenly, and idea struck him. "You're a dancer, right? I think I saw you at a shoot." Alfie asked as his eyes lit up like saucers. She smiled and nodded, looking down at her legs, "Yeah, I take at Seattle Elite. Why do you ask?" He grinned. "Well, I've learned that dancers make for great photos. Maybe for my side of the project, I could get some pictures of you dancing? I mean, if you want to. It's not a big deal if you do't." Alfie suggested, tiptoeing lightly around the subject. "No, yeah. That sounds great. Um, I have a little studio set up at my place if you want to come over tomorrow and get in some shots?" She replied, the same smile from earlier still gracing her perfect face. "Fantastic." Alfie said, grinning. As always, the villainous bell shook them both from their little photography heaven.
She packed her things hastily and has left before Alfie had the chance to say anything else. He laughed a little about the perfect girl who rarely spoke. His nonchalant attitude quickly faded, however, when the reality of his situation hit him. He had a quasi-date with Elsie, likely the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. Alfie's palms got all clammy and he shivered, but those feelings were quickly pushed away. Three more hours and he could go home and freak out as much as he wanted to. "3 more hours..." he muttered, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and sauntering from the class room, slapping the doorframe on the way out. This was going to be interesting.
