Disclaimer: I've got some pocket lint, and a few paintbrushes. I do not own any rights to the Breakfast Club, though.
Chapter 2
John settled into his seat and plopped his notebook on his desk. He'd already taken this course at Shermer, but UC wanted him to take their version of it. Well, they were paying for him to be here, so he'd do it. He'd even take notes.
With that thought, he cracked said book open and smoothed his hand over the first page, dating it neatly in the corner and noting that this was 'day 1' beneath the date.
He was a little early, but didn't mind. Being early, and sitting high up in the back of the study hall allowed him to look down at the other people arriving in class. He noticed a few that looked like his kind of people and a few that didn't. Nothing new, nothing radically exciting. Besides, he was here to work, not play. He wondered, briefly, if there was enough time before class to step out and have another cigarette. A glance at his watch told him no. He put his pen in his mouth and gnawed on the tip to ease the oral fixation.
Glancing down at the secondary entrance door, his interest suddenly perked at the sight of the next girl into the room. He couldn't make out much of her face, but her outfit was pretty much out of sight, her hair was a brilliant red but streaked with blue, and her sunglasses hid just enough to make him want to take them off for her. He watched her walk to a seat in the front row and drop into it, arranging herself. She followed almost the exact same ritual he had, even gnawing on her own pen as she waited for the professor. She didn't look around, didn't assess anyone, just stared ahead at the board. So, a bit of a nerd, but John still thought she looked as exciting as hell.
He indulged himself a minute and wondered what she looked like under that ridiculously puffy skirt. He bet that her legs were nice, and that they'd feel nice around his hips.
The professor walked in, and the lecture commenced. Today was mostly an overview, so John took notes when something sounded important, but mostly he kept his eyes on the exciting red-head in the front row.
He finally decided that it was the hair that kept drawing his eyes to her. It was so much like Claire's, except for the blue, and she would stroke it back over her scalp every now and then, just like Claire used to do.
The thought brought back his memory of the last time he had stroked Claire's hair, after they had made love for the first time. Her eyes had almost been closed, and her hot as hell lips were pulled up in that languorous smile women only got after orgasm. He had reached out his hand and run it through her hair, letting it tug just a little at her curls as he pulled her in for another deep kiss.
She'd been the most amazing sex of his life. Once her hesitation had fled, she'd turned into a wildcat. Even thinking about her skin under his lips, his hands, his tongue, was enough to get him instantly hard. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to think about something else. Today was the day to get over her. He had no right to still be thinking about her. He'd been the one to fuck things up, in the first class way that only the John Benders of the world were capable of.
The other students were getting up, and he realized he had idled all the way through the 90 minute period. He stood up and decided he was going to go down and introduce himself to the girl in the front. Maybe they'd go out for coffee, or a beer. He'd ask what kind of music she liked, and was pretty sure somewhere in there would be The Clash, or Maiden, and that'd be cool. They'd talk, hang out, and if he was extra nice, maybe he'd end the week with finding out just how good her legs did feel.
He grinned and walked down the stairs, already hot for her.
"Hey there, Red," he murmured.
Nothing could have prepared John for the shock when she turned to face him.
Claire ended up arriving with just a few minutes to spare before class. She had stopped and grabbed a coffee at the local café, and that had thrown her time off a bit.
Thankfully, when she arrived in the hall, there was still a seat available in the front row right across from the board. She pulled her notebook out of her bag and put it on her desk and cracked it open. She smoothed the first page down, and idly gnawed on the tip of her pen while she waited. Around her, she heard students greeting each other, whispering about their summers, what they'd done on vacation. She tuned them out and began tapping the rhythm to "London Calling" with her nails. She wasn't here to socialize, and she had all the friends she needed in Alison, Brian, and Andy.
When the professor walked in, she straightened up, her pen poised over the page that she had neatly dated and labeled 'Day 1'. She wrote down as much of what he said as she could. If she didn't really understand everything yet, at least she'd have an almost verbatim record of it to pore through later.
She tried, really, to focus all of her attention on what her professor was talking about. Things like "zoning laws" and "potentially disastrous design flaws" sounded pretty damn important. Unfortunately, her mind refused to let go of the dangerous area of thought that she'd been pursuing earlier today: John Bender, and why he was the best and worst person she could have ever met.
Even the thought of his name made her get hot under the collar, and she squirmed a bit in her seat, hoping no one noticed. No wonder she hadn't really gotten into another relationship since. If just thinking about something so simple as the gloves he had always worn made her practically writhe, he'd be a hard act to follow.
Claire had finally realized, some time around the second semester of her sophomore year, that she should just give up and declare celibacy. She had found herself comparing every guy that she went on a date with to John, and she'd found them wanting every time. She was really happy for Alison and Brian, they had fought the odds and come out on top, still happily in love after two years. But her being happy for them didn't stop her from being really jealous once in a while.
If only he hadn't been such a fucking jerk! Claire felt her mouth form into a hard line and shook her head to clear it, dragging her hand absently through her hair.
Ok, Standish, Focus! She instructed herself. This was an important year, and statistically, one of the most difficult for the average college student. No use dredging old waters, hoping for a different result. She was simply going to die an old, celibate, horny lady who'd only ever been touched once. That was just the sad fact of her situation. She'd probably have a bunch of cats, too.
She noticed that the students around her had started getting up and filing out. Well, that hadn't been too bad, class wise. Her professor had a good voice, and a way of explaining things that she could understand. She stalled, waiting for the room to clear a little more. She hated getting caught in the inevitable bottle neck that occurred at the small doors to the lecture halls.
Claire, Claire, Claire...What are we going to do with this? She shook her head, not sure she could answer her own question. Maybe this year she'd finally be able to meet a nice guy, who wouldn't fuck her raw then be all over some other girl the next day. Maybe the moon was made of cheese, too.
She packed her bag readying to leave, when she heard a soft throat clear behind her.
"Hey there, Red," an achingly familiar voice murmured.
She felt her spine stiffen while her belly filled with unwanted heat. If she stood, her legs would shake. If she turned to face him, her heart would shatter all over again, and she wasn't sure all the glue in the world could put it back together again. She bit her lip, refusing to cry like part of her wanted. She bunched her hands into fists, refusing to throw herself at him like the other parts wanted.
Steeling her resolve, Claire Standish, richie-cum-trendy rocker turned to face John Bender, first love-cum-total asshole.
"Hey there, yourself," she heard herself saying. She was pretty proud of the fact that her voice didn't tremble. She was even a little proud at the glimpse of lust/hurt/anger/joy that crossed his face.
John's jaw had dropped just a bit, and he was staring at her. He looked like he was about to say something, and she knew she couldn't handle it.
"Well, see you around," she said lightly. Grabbing her bag, she fled the classroom, leaving John and everything he represented behind her.
By the time Alison and Brian made it to the lecture hall that Arch. Theory was taking place in, the professor was there, and class had started. They walked around the outside of the hall to an enclosed cat-walk where they could see in through the clerestory windows.
Alison looked around intently, worried more about Claire than Bender, obviously. She spotted Claire sitting, as usual, in the front row, hand scrawling intently across her note book page. Alison looked her question at Brian, and he pointed to the back row, just a few feet below them. There sat Bender in all his badass, Doc Marten wearing, trench coat sporting glory. Other than the facts that the Doc's were new, the pants were neat, and the trench fit closer to his body and highlighted his arms, Alison didn't think his look had changed much.
Unlike Claire.
Claire's look, over the past three years, had evolved from Preppy Princess to every badass boy's wet dream.
That thought gave Alison a pause, and she looked at Brian, seeing the same thought cross his mind.
"You know, really, I think they'll be fine," he said.
"Well, not fine. I seriously doubt the possibility of fine being anywhere in the near future for the Claire and Bender hour, but…I'm thinking that, whatever happens, it needs to happen on it's own," Alison responded seriously.
They nodded, both looking in, both hoping that this wouldn't turn into a disaster.
"So, you ready for lunch? I'm starving and I'm pretty sure today is International day," Alison offered.
"Mmm, tacos," Brian agreed.
Arm in arm, the headed back downstairs to the cafeteria, both pretending they weren't hoping that this whole Claire/Bender interaction might just lead to a wedding.