Hello friends! Here is the next bit. Hope that you enjoy, and if you enjoy, review! Also, had an issue with the last chapter. For some reason, the AN was appearing in the middle of the story. Should be fixed now, and sorry for the confusion!

A 57% on her first Chemistry exam inspired their next meeting. Fiona had been to the park three times since their first encounter, but each time she had found it completely empty. Each of those times, she had taken consolation in the swing, feeling free to swing as high as she could and laugh as loudly as she wanted to without any fear of judgement from the empty park. She was beginning to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing, just spontaneously dreamt up a handsome boy waving at her, but she remembered the feeling too clearly for it to have happened inside her head.

Since waking up that morning, she had every intention of stopping in the park on the way home anyway, hoping to see her boy, or at the very least, see her swing. She wasn't sure when she had started thinking of him as "her boy", but she certainly did. She didn't know his name, so it wasn't as if she could think of him in a proper way. It had been nearly a week since she had found time to stop by on her way home, as she had been busy spending every possible minute studying for her Chemistry exam, and she was thrilled to finally have the time. She had a good feeling about the day ahead.

Fiona's good feeling lasted until her Chemistry teacher handed back exams from the day before. Hers had come face down, with a stern look that clearly said "do better". Despite the look, she held out hope that maybe it wasn't that bad, and perhaps the teacher just had remarkably high standards. She had studied for this exam until her brain was numb, after all. The red 57 at the top of the paper dashed her hopes. It really was that bad, and she didn't know what she was going to do. After class was dismissed, she went straight to the nurses office and claimed menstrual cramps, which allowed her to leave for the day.

She managed to keep herself in check and hold back her tears until she was off campus. Her feet walked along of their own accord, as her brain was not up to the task of thinking at the moment. Her father paid an awful lot of money for her to attend an elite private school, and Andrew Larkin always had high expectations for his daughter, and Fiona was usually up to the task. She worked hard to maintain top grades at school, but Chemistry was something that didn't come as easily as the rest did. She had tried so hard, and she did not even want to consider what her father might say.

Before she even knew it, she was at the park. For the first time, she was genuinely glad to find it empty, happy that her mystery boy was not there to bear witness to her failure. She bypassed the swing, knowing that right now, the wind in her face and the sensation of flying would do nothing to solve her problems. Instead, she parked herself below the tree, where she had seen him for the first time. Sitting against the strong trunk, she hugged her knees to her chest, buried her face, and let the tears come, knowing that crying wouldn't solve her problems either.

The sobs racked her body and the tears flowed freely. Fiona Larkin hated crying; crying was weakness, and in her world, weakness was not tolerated. A failing grade and tears in the same day would have her father balking with shame, and she knew that she should stop this; knew that she should dry her eyes and come up with a plan to break this news to her father and fix her grades. The problem was that, right this second, all she wanted to do was cry. She sat there and cried until there were no more tears. Once the sobs had passed, she sat there with wet cheeks and thoughts filling her brain. She had no idea how long she had been sitting, when she was interrupted quite suddenly.

"You're in my spot," came an unfamiliar and distinctly different voice.

She looked up and came face to face with him. Of course this had to happen the one day she wasn't looking for him, the one day she had been glad to be alone. It was just her luck that he came along now, when her hair was an absolute mess and her tears had stolen any beauty she even might have had. Staring up at him, at this handsome boy who she had longed to see again, Fiona did the only thing she could think so do; she burst into a new wave of tears.

"What?" he asked, the panic evident in his voice. "Shit! No...don't...just, it's okay! Don't cry! I was just having a laugh! I don't mind if you sit here!"

Just like that, she was laughing. Of course, she was still crying as well, so it was a bit of a mess, but the laughter was genuine. The boy was fretting, shaking his head and flapping his hands around in front of him, clearly confused. The fact that he thought she was crying because of his joke and he was so concerned by that was incredibly endearing, and to Fiona, a bit funny.

"Sorry," she croaked out, shaking her head. Her tears and the stress of her current situation took away any nerves about actually speak to him, which, in a way, was a good thing. "I'm sorry, it's not you. It's just….it's just been a really bad day."

"Aye, I could kind of tell," he nodded in understanding, beginning to calm down himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hankie, handing it to her. "Here. It's clean, I promise."

Just like that, her blush came back with a vengeance. "Thanks."

He stood awkwardly for a moment, before speaking again. "Can I sit, or do you wanna be alone?"

Fiona was accustomed to men running as far away from tears as possible, so the fact that he still wanted to sit mystified her. Instead of speaking, she just nodded her consent and moved over a bit, making room.

"Ah, that's better," he said, leaning back against the tree. He looked over at her. "Name's Filip."

"Filip," she repeated softly, dabbing at the edge of her eyes with the cloth. "I'm Fiona."

"Fiona," he tested it out on his tongue. "Fiona. I like it. So Fiona, why are you crying?"

She tried to hide how absurdly pleased she was by the idea that he liked her name. It wasn't too difficult, as his question brought to mind the reason for her upset in the first place. She took a deep breath before answering. "Chemistry."

"Chemistry?" he asked, confused. "What do you mean 'chemistry'? Are you upset because you're not getting on with your boyfriend or something?"

"What? I don't have a boyfriend" she asked, laughing at the absurdity of his question and completely missing the glimmer in his eye at the prospect of her not having a boyfriend. "No, I don't mean that kind of chemistry. I mean my Chemistry class. We got our first exam back today, and I failed. Miserably."

"Ah, okay," he clarified. "Well, do you have the test? Let me see."

She hesitated only a moment before relenting and pulling the paper from her bag and handing it to him. She was an intensely private person and wasn't the type to generally share, well, anything with others, but for some reason she trusted him. Besides, he had already witnessed her crying, so could it get much worse? Fiona watched him leaf through the test, nodding here and there.

"You go to that private school down the street a ways?" he asked, out if nowhere, without looking up from the paper.

"Saint Frances, yes," she told him, wondering why he asked.

He laughed. "All that money for a fancy private school, and your lazy arse of a teacher uses the same tests that the poor public school uses. And we are farther ahead."

"What are you on about?" she asked, confused.

"I took this test, last week," he told her with a shrug. "This exact test. And if it makes you feel any better, you did better than I did, but then again, I just used the answer sheet to spell out dirty words."

She laughed at that. "That does make me feel better, somehow. But I doubt it will make my father feel better. He's going to kill me."

Filip saw her lower lip begin to tremble again, and he had no idea how to make her feel better, so he just shrugged. "Fuck him."

"What?!" she exclaimed, not really believing her ears. Fiona wondered if he was serious. She would not even imagine saying anything remotely close to that directed at her father. In fact, there were very few people in Ireland that would ever dream of saying these words to her father.

"It's just one test," he explained. "And I am guessing that you haven't ever had a grade like this before, so he can't be too mad at you for it. Tell him you'll do better next time, and it will be fine."

She rolled her eyes. "That would be a wonderful idea, except I don't think I actually can do better than this. I studied for this exam, hard. It may as well be written in Hebrew."

"Well, Fiona," he said slowly, her name rolling off his tongue in a way that made her shiver. "That's why you're going to get a tutor."

"A tutor?" she asked, wondering at him and the way his mind worked. "Who on earth would tutor me?"

'Me of course," he smiled at her, and she was so drawn in that it took her a moment to process and reply.

"Didn't you just explain that you did worse on the test than I did?" she wondered, wondering what he was on about.

"Aye, I did," he confirmed. "But I also explained that we are ahead of you. Which means that I will get my tests back before you ever take yours. I can give them to you, if you'd like. That way, you'd know what to study and what to expect from the test."

The logic of it amazed her. Yes, in her heart, she knew it was considered cheating, but when faced with the prospect of failing Chemistry and earning the ire of her father, the school Honor Code didn't mean much to her. She HAD to pass, and besides, it wasn't as if she was planning on being a chemist when she grew up. Plus, there was the added bonus that she would get to see him, Filip, quite regularly.

"Do you offer to 'tutor' girls you just met all the time?" she joked, a smile on her own face.

"Just the pretty ones," he replied, his voice sounding serious.

His reply threw her and she once again felt the blush creep up on her cheeks. Nobody, except her father and her Nanny, had ever called her pretty before. Instead, they usually made comments about her dark skin or her crazy hair, but never positive ones. The fact that Filip, the boy she had been thinking about without end since the first time she saw him, had just called her pretty astounded her. Her mind attempted to construct an intelligent reply, but she wasn't having much luck. She was saved by a rather embarrassing growl that emitted from her stomach.

"Sorry!" she blurted out, completely mortified. "That was horrible. I ditched school before lunch. I didn't eat."

"Ditching school?" he raised an eyebrow at her. "What would your father think?"

"Shut up," she murmured, but without any malice.

He reached into his bag that sat next to him and and soon his hand reemerged with an apple. "Here," he said, handing it to her.

"Are-are you sure?" she asked, taking the ripe fruit from him.

"Wouldn't have given it to you if I wasn't," he shrugged, leaning back against the tree as she began to nibble on the apple. After a few moments, he spoke up again. "I expected you to be on the swing again. I've been coming here since the last time, hoping to catch you again."

Her mouth dropped open. Luckily, she had already swallowed the apple. "I-I just-," she stammered. "You've been coming here? To see me?"

"Aye," he nodded. "You ran out of here like a demon in a church last time. I thought I had spooked you. Was hoping to catch you again."

"It wasn't you," Fiona quickly insisted, trying to hide her own blush. "I just don't usually see people here and I didn't expect you to notice me. People don't usually notice me, not in a good way anyway."

"I don't believe that," he smirked at her, shaking his head. "Not even a little bit."

"Thank you," she said softly, still glowing red. She was thrilled to see him smile and develop a slight blush of his own. Fiona was not used to being complimented, and it seemed like he did not generally give them out so freely. Though it was not usual for her, it was something she found she liked. Either way, she was eager for a new subject. She chewed and swallowed another bite of apple before speaking again. "So tell me about you."

"About me?" he asked, surprised, before shrugging. "Not much to tell."

She rolled her eyes before repeating his own words back to him. "I don't believe that. Not even for a minute. Come on! You have already heard all about my failures as a student and how much I disappoint my father. You owe me."

He sighed, but did as she asked. For the next hour, he talked, and she listened. His voice was almost hypnotic as he told her about his family, about his life in Scotland, about moving to Ireland, and about his school. He even told her all about his comic books, which he was slightly obsessed with. The more she heard, the more she liked him, and she knew that this could end badly, but she didn't care at all. Of course, she could never, ever tell him that she liked him, but that didn't change how she felt.

The sound of bells in the distance cut through the air, setting Fiona on high alert. If she wasn't mistaken, those were the bells at St. Frances, meaning that right this moment, students were pouring out of the school building, heading home. Since Fiona was supposed to be home in bed with menstrual cramps, it wouldn't do for her to be seen here. She had to go, and she had to go now.

"Shit!" she shouted, jumping to her feet before clapping a hand over her mouth. She looked down to see him laughing at her use of curse words, and even she couldn't stop a small smile. "I need to go. I left school hours ago and if anybody sees me here…"

"Your father will kill you," he finished for her.

"Right," she nodded, grabbing her backpack. "I've got to go."

"Okay," he told her, looking a little less cheery than a moment ago. He pulled his comic book out of his pocket. "Go on, then. I've kept Batman waiting long enough."

She smiled at him and started towards the gate, knowing that she had to get out of there. Despite that knowledge, Fiona stopped and looked back. "Filip? Will you be here again? I mean, will I see you, soon?"

The megawatt grin was back. "Of course. I've got test to give you, afterall."

"Right," she said. "Right. I need the tests. I guess I will see you next week then."

He rolled his eyes at her. "I'll be here tomorrow, Fiona. And any other day you want me to be."

"Tomorrow then," she told him, before hurrying off, already eager for tomorrow to come.