"Everyone. I'm sure you'll all be glad to see the return of an old student. May I reintroduce, Danny Fenton?"
It's amazing how much someone can change in four years. He had gone from a scrawny, small is cute preteen boy to a teenage hearthrob. Spiky black hair had softened to a messy fauxhawk, a long stripe of white the only remaining constant that could be compared to the last time she had seen him. Gone were the baggy jeans, white and red tee with ugly clunky sneakers, replaced by ripped skinny jeans, a leather jacket with a Bowling For Soup tour tshirt and tightly laced converse.
At least they were still red.
His face was thinner, eyes hidden behind sunglasses as he surveyed the classroom, a haughty and bored look curled around the corner of his downturned mouth. He drew pale lips into a sneering smirk as he corrected in a deep, low voice, "It's Daniel Masters now actually,"
In the silence that echoed Sam swore she could hear her own heart beating in her chest. Lancer turned, a curious look in his eye as he glanced at his old pupil, "I apologise, Daniel," He looked away again, glancing down at the seating chart he held in a chubby hand, "Would you like to take a seat next to Miss Manson?"
And just like that, the silence was broken for a split second. Danny - Daniel, a name he had always hated - stared at her through his black sunglasses and the entire class took a large, heavy gasp of air. Sam simply stared back, pursing her lips as though this was an everyday occurance. Inside, she was shaking like a leaf, her core cold as ice and her feet planted firmly and ready to run should she need to.
Thoughts raced through her mind as he walked towards her, wrapping around her like vines. Did he miss her? Did he think of her often? Would he acknowledge her? Would he shout, scream, kick, cry?
Instead of any of those things, he simply pulled out his chair and sat down, long and lanky in a small seat. He nodded at Lancer as if to tell him to continue and took out a small notebook and a pen.
His stomach was obviously not in the same knots as Sam's as he casually wrote down notes, Lancer continuing to drone on and on in the background. Her own hand cramped and she dropped her pencil with what seemed to be the loudest crash of her life.
Daniel paused. Then slowly, as if not to attract any attention, he leaned down and picked it up, with all the grace of a feline. He sat back up again, and leaned over, a masculine aftershave slowly hitting Sam as he leaned just slightly too close into her personal space whilst she stared, cheeks burning at her own knees.
He tapped her on the shoulder and she flinched, shaking with fear and things unsaid. Steeling herself, she turned, and saw his eyes for the first time in four years.
He grinned, one bright blue eye gleaming at her and one scarred dulled green eye glaring at her.
"Hello Samantha,"
