It was hard to think straight with this migraine pounding in my head. I'd thought correctly when I noticed the telltale signs of a headache coming my way: the swimming vision, burning heat radiating off my face and clammy hands. It must've been from me over-thinking again.

I had just gone out of my History classroom and my nerves were on fire. Our professor dismissed us roughly fifteen minutes ago, yet I stayed behind, deliberately taking my time in shoving my notebooks inside my bag. I even took it upon myself to tidy up the room, arranging the chairs into organized rows and wiping the dry erase board clean so that my pounding head could relax. I had scanned the room thoroughly, looking for something else to fix, only to find that there was none left. Dammit.

Sighing and rolling back my tense shoulders, I adjusted the strap of my body bag and began walking for the journalism classroom. If I recalled correctly, Carson always stayed there after classes to work on the latest edition of Clover High Chronicle, the school's newspaper, despite the fact that the Writer's Club only held meetings during Wednesdays.

I knew that because I saw him that one time from when I got home late after a tutoring session. It's not like I was intentionally stalking him. It was just that one time…and another time after that. But I swear, both times were coincidental! Poor guy though, he must be working himself hard. Maybe it would be better if I didn't interrupt him today…

I groaned out loud and mentally slapped myself. I could feel my headache worsening but I can't make excuses for every time that I had to meet him. It'll get me nowhere. Brushing back the strands of hair that fell on the sides of my face, I took a left and continued my sluggish, reluctant pace.

I didn't even know why I was so worked up about this. It was just Carson Phillips—for goodness' sakes, not some celebrity—that I needed to tutor. Remy might've thought that I harbored a crush on him but I didn't. And I really don't like him.

I don't, I don't, I don't.

Well, I can't, a bitter voice inside my head that I hadn't known existed added stubbornly, even if he's as brilliant as I think he is, he's too out-there, too keen on getting out of this town. I'm staying here; and I'm staying forever. The two of us have two very different, very opposite goals in life. Besides, he probably doesn't even know I exist anyway…

Shaking my head resolutely with my lips pursed, I blinked into focus and nearly collided with a closed door. I stumbled back safely just in time. Pasted on the surface of the door was a washed-out paper held up by tape and it read in big, black letters: Journalism Classroom. Behind the closed door, I could hear the muffled noise of an open computer and the sound of a ceiling fan working.

Taking in a shaky breath, I pushed aside my hesitance and knocked three times, the noise echoing loudly in the empty hallways. I waited for a few seconds, expecting to hear some scrambling inside the room and for the door to open. It didn't and I frowned.

Did I make a mistake? Had he gone home and unknowingly left me knocking on an empty classroom after all?

Swallowing and frowning tighter, I knocked thrice for the second time around. Again, there was no response and I felt my hope die down. Perhaps, he had already gone home. Discouraged, I went in for the last resort, grabbing the door knob firmly. If the door was indeed locked, then yes, I'm going home too. I can just meet him tomorrow before or after the Writer's Club meeting. I turned the knob tentatively and to my surprise, it clicked open. The humming of the open computer sounded much clearer from the tiny opening.

Wait, had he been ignoring me?

Blinking and scowling at the thought, I yanked open the door further with a little more force than I intended, stopping it with my hand just in time before it banged with the wall outside. My irritation went away at the sight that welcomed me. In front of the noisy computer sat Carson Phillips on his chair, his shoulders slumped down and his head buried down on his crossed arms. The slight rise and fall of his upper back confirmed that he was sleeping.

Immediately, I felt guilty for being upset. He probably would've made some sort of effort to at least ask who it was—instead of ignoring the knocking like I had thought—if he was awake. Carson may come off as a snarky person but he was probably polite enough to do that. Staring at him for a few more seconds, uncertainty took its place in me.

What should I do now?

Should I wake him up and introduce myself? Or was that rude?

Should I leave him alone since he was sleeping? I mean, he looked exhausted and besides, I can meet him tomorrow…

Or was leaving him there rude, too?

He might have something planned for the evening and it would be too bad if he was late for it.

"This is so stupid…" I sighed tiredly and ran a hand through my hair. Placing a closed fist on my hip, I stared at him intently and made up my mind. Fine, I'd wake him. If he became upset later on with the decision I made, then so be it. I stalked forward, making sure my footsteps were light and quiet, and stopped beside him. "Carson." I said and paused, his name sounding weird coming out from my mouth. Wetting my lips slightly, I reached out for his shoulder, feeling the firm muscles bulging underneath his blue shirt. Damn it, this was not the time for inappropriate thoughts!

Flushing red in frustration and embarrassment, I gripped him harder and shook his shoulder. I cleared my throat and called out. "Hey, wake up. Carson, wake up." He began to stir from the all shaking I did and groaned, his brown head lifting up slowly to look at me. I took away my hand and allowed him to gather his foggy thoughts. Frowning, he looked at me through his narrowed gaze and I noticed just then that his eyes were a weird combination of grey, blue and green. "What?" He asked, his voice sounding slightly rough from sleep.

"You fell asleep." I pointed out lamely, unable to think of anything else to say. Thankfully, he ignored my unintelligent reply and turned to the bright computer screen. His eyes widened once he glanced at the taskbar. "Shit!" He swore loudly and I jerked away, startled at his reaction. What just happened? "I must've lost track of time. Stupid article." He muttered harshly and stood up, ignoring my presence in the room.

He gathered his things and collected the papers scattered messily on his desk, mumbling things under his breath, most of which I missed. I only caught a few words like 'Grandma' and 'late' and 'fucking uncooperative members'. Really, the only thing I could do was gape at him while he cleaned up like an angry hurricane.

"Hey?"

I snapped up at the sudden question. How long was I staring at space? Based from the curious look Carson gave me, I'd say long enough to make me look like an idiot. I shifted from where I stood awkwardly and nodded at him. "Hey." I said back and paused to think of my next words. He was staring at me like he was expecting something and I couldn't help but feel pressured.

"I'm—W-Well, Mr. Grace, he…I'm s-supposed to—"

"Whoa, hey, calm down." Carson cut me off and held up both hands before him, obviously taken aback by my broken tirade. Great, five minutes after we met and I was already scaring him with my stupid stuttering. He probably thought I was an incompetent fool. What was wrong with me? "Um", Carson began tentatively, looking as if he didn't know what to make of me. That's alright; I didn't know what to make of myself either. "Sorry about that…I probably scared you with all the swearing I did."

What? I blinked rapidly at his casual apology. He thought I got scared of him?

"No, it's okay." I said when I regained my voice back. "I'm…" Taking in a deep breath to support my courage, I let it out part by part and continued, "Well, I heard you were having trouble in Algebra 2?" I offered helpfully, relaxing once I realized that we were falling into the conversation I wanted all along: a normal one that meant business. "Mr. Grace asked me to tutor you."

He glanced quickly at the door then back at me. He looked like he couldn't wait to get out of the room and I took no offense in that. Even I wanted to bolt out of this room as soon as I can. Carson nodded once, shifting from one foot to another. "Yeah, I kind of figured that out."

I nodded too and we fell into a tense silence. Carson looked around the room, impatiently drumming his fingers against the strap of his messenger bag. I gripped mine in a tight hold, looking down on the ground, just to avoid his gaze. Finally, Carson snapped.

"Look", he sighed out awkwardly, "I gotta go. I'm tired and kind of late for something…"

I glanced up, relieved that he took the initiative to say goodbye.

"Yeah, okay." I agreed, trying hard to not sound as eager as I really was. "We can talk tomorrow." At my reply, he all but jogged happily to the open doorway and ran out. I watched the empty hallways for a moment and sighed, slumping down and sitting myself on the edge of the computer desk. What a messy day.

I sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, relishing in my calm surroundings and the comforting hum of the computer. Oh, Carson forgot to turn it off. Resisting the urge to sigh again, I went around the desk and bent down to reach for the mouse, not bothering to sit down properly. I closed all the open tabs in the internet browser and clicked the shut down button. I stared at the screen as it went from bright to pitch black in a matter of seconds.

"Hey."

I looked up at the door, surprised to see Carson peeking from behind one of the doorframes. That's funny, I didn't hear him come back again. I straightened up unconsciously. "Yeah?"

"Raewyn Evans…right?"

I tried to contain my shock this time but I obviously failed, if his almost smug expression said anything. Well, it seems that I was proven wrong once more. Apparently, he did know that I existed. I cleared my throat.

"Yeah." I told him with a quick nod. "Just call me Raewyn."

"Okay." Looking down on the floor, his earlier expression fell into a thoughtful frown. I waited expectantly. Carson looked up at me again, biting his lip with obvious discomfort. "By the way, thanks." He said the word 'thanks' uneasily, almost as if he wasn't used to thanking people. I wonder how often people did him favors, whether willingly or not.

"For what?"

"For waking me up."

"Oh."

He released a noncommittal grunt. "Yeah…" With another bob of his head and a forced crooked smile on his face, he raised his hand to give me a tentative wave.

"Bye."

I managed a weak smile of my own and waved clumsily. "Bye, Carson."

He was out of sight before I could even finish saying his name.

The sound of the door opening and the 'Wyn, I'm home!' greeting that came after it had never felt so comforting to hear before. I stood up from where I sat on the dining table with a wide smile and walked towards the tall man in the coat and tie to give him a hug. "Hey, Dad." I said after pulling back from the hug and caught a smile identical to the one I had on his tired face. He rarely looked at ease anymore.

After Mom died, my dad had to quit his old job in the city and look for one here so he could come home every night. He settled here in Clover as an accountant and although I know next to nothing about being one, I could tell that he wasn't particularly happy with his new career.

I once asked him about it but he only shrugged and told me the pay was good and it was impractical for him to look for another job; it was especially risky since I was in high school and I needed money for projects every now and then. I couldn't even begin to express how grateful I was for the obvious sacrifice.

"Hungry?" I asked him immediately and was answered with an exaggerated groan. I muffled a laugh as he pretended to sway on his feet and clutched his stomach dramatically. "You have no idea." He said and grinned when I rolled my eyes. Trust my father to be an overgrown whiny child.

"Come on then." I told him, beckoning him to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat and I did the same with the chair opposite to his. "It's mashed potatoes with peas and carrots and fried chicken." I said when he asked what was on the table.

"Yum."

Silence took over as we began to eat, the occasional collision of spoons and forks against the plate the only things disrupting the otherwise calm quietness. "So…" Dad began, in the process of chewing a mouthful of food. He swallowed and picked up his broken statement. "How's school?" He asked expectantly with an encouraging smile, his tone sincere.

I knew that he was truly interested in whatever I had to say, unlike other parents who asked questions for the sake of making small talk but not really listening. I was glad that we were able to maintain our closeness despite the rather sad incidents that took place in between times.

I wasn't, however, pleased with the question he presented. I'd hoped that school wouldn't be brought up during dinner, but then again, it wasn't as if I had work to discuss with him.

"School's okay." I kept my answer short and safe. "We had a quiz on Algebra 2 today. I'm pretty sure I aced it."

He smiled proudly at me. "I'm sure you did." He supported wholeheartedly, not even batting a doubtful eyelash. "Even back then when your mother was still alive, we never had any problems with you in school. Your elementary teachers even told us that you were a good kid. Your mom was so proud of you, she couldn't help but tell every one of our neighbors that she had the perfect daughter." A nostalgic chuckle followed his statement. "I think she annoyed them at one point."

I'm far from perfect.

I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying the words. I shrugged at his praise and smiled slightly, trying not to make a big deal at the inward pain I felt when he mentioned Mom. It's been five years; It wasn't supposed to hurt as much as it did just now.

"Well, I try to be." I told him and scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes, taking it in, chewing and swallowing before changing the topic. "How's work?"

His cheerful expression fell apart. "Terribly boring." He sighed and I chuckled sympathetically, reaching out and giving his hand a pat. "It was all numbers and papers and more numbers that I had to stare at the whole time. It's pure torture." I didn't know whether he was messing with me or if he really hated his work that much.

"During our lunch break, I don't even try to interact with my co-workers anymore." Dad admitted shamefully and stabbed a piece of his chicken with his fork. "They bore me to death. I can't stand them, Wyn."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I remarked sincerely, giving him a weak smile.

"Don't be." He reassured coolly and reached for his glass, gulping down the water. "Just promise me something." He said after he brought his glass back down, a serious look present in his eye. I leaned forward instinctively. "What's that?" I asked, intending to keep whatever promise he wanted me to make. If he was willing to sacrifice his happiness in exchange for my future, then I'm just as willing to amends for his comfort.

"Promise me you'll choose a career you love doing, and not just for practicality."

My gaze softened and guilt hit my conscience hard. Dad always knew what to tell me, even if most of the time, I hated it when he was right. It was as if he could already tell what I was planning on doing in the near future.

"Dad…" I began, sighing and leaning against my seat. "You can't say that. Practicality is an essential—"

"No." He held up a hand, smiling despite the glint of determination in his eyes. "You leave the practicality to me. That's my thing." He joked, chuckling.

"You, on the other hand, have big dreams for the future. I want you to pursue those." Dad told me as he finished the last of his meal. "Remember how you told me you wanted to be a famous writer? And how you wanted to live in New York? You were always so excited whenever you talked about that. You made so many stories already. I remember one; it was about that…"

My heart broke a little at his reminiscing and I knew I'd break his heart too, when I tell him what I had in mind right now. "Dad." I said softly, interrupting his enthusiastic storytelling. He stopped and glanced at me, quirking up an eyebrow. I sighed again and ran a hand through my hair.

"As much as I appreciate the support…" I told him, smiling sadly and letting him think about my next words, "I've changed my mind about writing." He didn't look shocked and that surprised me. In fact, he merely gave me an unimpressed look and asked, "Why?"

I hesitated in my next answer. "I want to be a teacher."

"A teacher?"

"Yeah, a teacher, here in Clover."

"Just like Irene?"

He let Mom's name float in the air between us, increasing the tension. "Yeah." I nodded stiffly and forced a grin. "Just like Mom." Dad held my gaze for a short moment and I stared back at him, stubbornly jutting out my chin. I had to be convincing for both of us, or he'd never stop bothering me about this. Finally, Dad looked down on his empty plate and he sighed heavily. I relaxed my tense shoulders. "Raewyn…" he started, but I stood up, cutting him off before he could begin his speech and make me doubt my decision.

"No, Dad." I said firmly, grabbing my plate up and reaching to his direction to grab his as well. I walked towards the sink. "I want this. I'm happy with this decision." I told him, secretly relieved that my back was what faced him; I don't think I could bear seeing the disappointment in his face.

"It's not what you think. I've had time to consider this. Besides", I dropped the dirty plates on the sink, unflinching even when they resonated a loud clank, "I lost interest in writing. I wasn't as good as I thought I was. People change over the years. Dreams change, too, Dad."

"I know that." I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and I sagged down, unconscious of the stiffness I carried my shoulders with. I turned around slowly and met his rueful smile. "I'll do the dishes tonight. You go ahead and rest."

I eyed him skeptically. "You sure?"

"Of course I am." He answered and pushed me aside gently, taking over. I stumbled back and stared at his tall figure, pursing my lips. I didn't know what to make of the situation between us, but it was obvious that he dropped the topic for now. After waiting and receiving no further response, I sighed and shook my head, heading for the stairs.

"Night, Dad." I called out.

"Good night. Oh, and Raewyn?"

Halting in my tracks, I took in a deep breath and let it out, sighing, "Yeah, Dad?"

"Think about it, okay?"

I couldn't think of a good-enough response for that, so I settled for nodding, even though he couldn't see me.

"Night, Dad." I said again and climbed the stairs two steps at a times, not looking back.

"We're having a meeting about it this afternoon."

A loud thump as a stack of notebooks hit the cafeteria table made me look up and I saw Remy grinning at me. Reluctantly, I took my mouth off the straw of my juice box. "About what?" I asked her, watching as she sat down and unwrapped her sandwich and stuck a straw on her strawberry Kool-Aid. I looked away from the small red carton and shuddered. Obviously, I wasn't a big fan of Kool-Aid, especially the strawberry flavored one. I wonder why Remy liked it.

"Homecoming." She answered simply and glanced up at me in what she thought was an innocent manner and what I knew as the 'you-should-be-ashamed-of-yourself' look. I licked my dry lips and sighed.

"Remy." I said, keeping my tone leveled, as if I was conversing with a child rather than with a friend. "I'm still not going."

The blonde girl grimaced, grabbing her Kool-Aid and taking forceful sips. "Why not?" She demanded, the juice leaving her tongue colored an unnaturally bright red; it was thoroughly distracting. "I already told you why." I reminded her calmly with a raised eyebrow and Remy sighed, defeated. I refuse to feel sorry for her and cave in, just like any other time. I'm not going to be a pushover on this one.

"Fine." Remy sighed again and bit into her sandwich. She chewed quietly, looking thoughtful. "I just hope the Council meeting later this afternoon would be peaceful." I furrowed my eyebrows and frowned, confused. "What do you mean?" I asked her, playfully twisting the straw that I held between two fingers. She rolled her eyes, annoyed—not at my question but at her answer.

"Duh." She snorted disdainfully, scowling even deeper, "Carson Phillips, of course. That no-good busybody" I winced at her careless insults, "always, always interferes with everything. Seriously, everything." I was about to tell her to try and be gentler on describing Carson, but then I heard said boy's voice cut through our conversation and we both froze.

"Still talking about me behind my back, I see."

Carson's statement rang out from behind me and I could almost make out the smirk present on his expression just from the tone of his voice. I turned, staring at him with my mouth slightly open in surprise.

"Carson." I acknowledged weakly, turning pale. What the hell was this?

His eyes were, in turn, fixed on Remy's indignantly red face. She looked like an overripe tomato with her roundish, flushed face. "Don't flatter yourself, Phillips." Remy snapped angrily, sounding vicious despite her small stature. She stood up, trying to look down on Carson; which was, of course, impossible, given that Carson Phillips was at least a good one foot taller than her.

"Also, since when did you stoop so low as to actually eavesdrop on someone else's conversation?" Her voice rose in pitch, making my ears sting. I bet Carson's ears stung too, because he grimaced and drew back, but his glare didn't waver.

"Please", he snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "As if I would ever willingly listen to you and your big mouth." Remy gasped in offense at the insult and I shrunk even further down my seat. People were starting to glance at our direction now, their curiosity increasing. I bit back a pathetic whimper.

Why was I in the middle of this again? All I wanted was a peaceful lunch break. Why can't I have that?

"I came here to talk to Evans." Carson continued, sparing me a temporary look, and then snapping his narrow glare back at Remy. "But why am I even trying to explain this to you?" He murmured and rolled his eyes. He brought one of his hands down on my shoulder in a surprisingly gentle manner and I suppressed a shiver, the warmth of his palm sending tingles down my spine. His long fingers coiled down, reaching up to my collarbone.

"Come on, Raewyn." He said, giving me an encouraging pull. He stared at Remy the whole time as I stood, daring her to say otherwise.

Of course, he wasn't disappointed. Remy would grab every opportunity presented to her.

"What do you need her for?" My blonde friend snapped, grabbing my left wrist, and attempted to get me to sit back down. I was trapped between the two of them and I didn't enjoy a second of it. Dreadfully, I scanned the cafeteria and grimaced at what I discovered: Oh great, more audiences. Surprisingly, I found myself resisting Remy. Carson, unaware that I wasn't about to follow Remy's unspoken order anytime soon, grabbed my other hand. My eyes widened at the unexpected roughness of his hand, my pulse undoubtedly racing beneath my skin.

Stupid heartbeat.

Stupid pulse rate.

Swallowing hard, I turned to him tentatively, blushing a brighter pink when I saw the smirk he had. He looked so haughty, as if presented with a chance to say something clever. "It's none of your business, hobbit." Carson bit out, emphasizing each word with a hard edge, reaching out and pulling my other hand off Remy's grip. He looked down on me and grinned wickedly.

I closed my eyes, taking in a shaky breath. Remy was going to be so angry later on.

"C'mon, sweetheart, let's settle this."

My breath hitched in surprise. Shit.

I'm pretty sure I just melted into a puddle of useless goo at the pet name.

Sweetheart? Really?

Opening my eyes and doing the best that I can to ignore the gawking people—I'm sure they heard the pet name just as clearly as Remy and I did—I gave Remy a forced smile. "Calm down, Remy." I told her soothingly, surprised to find out that I could still speak coherently despite the fact that Carson was still gripping my wrist and just called me 'sweetheart'. Shit, I have to stop thinking about it.

"We're just going to fix our schedule. I'll be back, I promise." I reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze, just then realizing that my hand was clammy as hell, damn it.

I turned to Carson and gave him a nod. Satisfied, he let go of my hand and walked out of the cafeteria. My wrist felt cold so suddenly but I paid it no attention. I followed him out with as much dignity as I have left and hoped that it would be over soon. The sooner, the better.

Author's Note: Reviews give me inspiration. Please tell me what you think about it! ^^