Who the f**k did he think he was? Wilhelm Darcy. She almost spat it out in her bitter musings. The first (and only) man to resist her charms. Such a pity that he was such a nice one... until he opened his mouth. The guy had nothing on his mind but cartoons and puns. She would've trusted her instinct when she saw him striding with his backpack hanging low. Even then her gut had been screaming NERD ALERT! But no. She just thought that he was hip and carefree. It was actually kinda hard nowadays to see the difference between real nerds and male fashionistas. When it was in to have big glasses, flannel, big beard and a trunk on the back, how would poor girls like her spot the difference at first glance?

It had started sorta innocent actually. The first time she saw him was when she (as usual) skipped math to go smoke at the local high school and check out guys. And girls. And whoever else was hot. It did not really matter to her gender, as long as people were pleasing to look at. Being a great kisser was always a plus. Usually it did not go further than that. She quickly became bored with her partner and broke up (if there ever was such a thing as a relationship between them) before they even came to second base. Really, the puppy eyes that most people had when they gave her their last, pleading goodbye just made her shudder inside with relief that it didn't go further than it went. Here she was again, just out of the school's property, with a half smoked cigarette in the hand with poisonous green nails. All because of him.

Now there was no innocence about her. Today's theme was punk chick. Except from her nails she also had green eyelashes, green roots in the hair, and green torn stockings. The rest of her, from the new, spiky haircut to her seven inch leather heels with spikes was in fifty different shades of smoky black. The micro skirt made her shiver a bit in the March wind, but it just made the similarities with that fateful day in November so much clearer. She had been there, smoking, waiting for her newest flirt to exit class. She would've had Cloë with her, if she hadn't bailed out, the bore. Even Marianne would've done, but no. They had to chicken out when they heard the plans. She wasn't going to steal any bras. Why did they take her seriously? Truth be told, she only said it because she wanted to impress Linnéa. Dating older women was so exhausting some times.

And then, in the middle of the hoard of adolescents, was the most gorgeous creature that she ever had laid her eyes on. That moment she knew she would be the one hunting this time. Everything about them just fits so well in their place. The half grey, half white shoelaces, the asymmetrical waistline, and the barely noticeable wrinkles on their shirt – together it was a miraculous sight. The way their stubble met with the earlobe made her realize that Movember wasn't so bad after all.

###A.H.E.###

The moment passes as quickly as it had come, but the impression was lasting. All the following weeks were spent in the company of Françoise, Jeanne or Elisabet figuring out the most she could about this divine being. She even tried getting information out of Marie. She followed them to clubs and bars in hope of seeing the one she now knew was the new transfer student to Elisabet's class, Wilhelm Darcy. That she went to less famous places, with weird music nonetheless, was irrelevant, if she could lay her eyes on him again. Every time she caught a glimpse of him something happened with her abdomen. It was like relaxed and cramped at the same time. She always felt the need to relax, but how could she when she was feeling so warm?

The (almost) stalking would have continued forever if Darcy hadn't tried to hit on Elisabet at the Bingleys' holiday party. He failed, of course, and she felt so sorry for him. But in the midst of her pity was a determination to seize the moment. Wasn't she everything that Elisabet was, but better? Whether Darcy was attracted to Elisabet's long, dark, shiny hair, her deep, grass coloured eyes or her abundant chest didn't matter. Laura was positive that her features were better, sexier and more beautiful. She'd decided to go for it and seduce him, like she had seduced dozens before him.

It went well in the beginning. She took a little advantage on his soft spot for Elisabet, drawing back her hair in a ponytail as she bounced towards him in a manner that she thought was similar to hers. He seemed to catch on her little charade quite easily, and she drew him to the dance floor where they played "Dernier slow" by Joe Dassin. They swayed together in harmony, drawing closer and closer. He bowed his head and she closed her eyes, feeling the knowledge that she was going to be kissed. It warmed her from the inside out and she relaxed and let the music take over her body, flowing, being one with eternity. Being kissed by him must be so nice. And scratching that beard. Not that she liked beards, or anything. Just his.

Then he deigned to reject her. No. He didn't even do that. He just went stiff and asked some weird questions like:"Why did the hipster drown?" and "What do you call an albino pet of Santa's?" She did not understand, nor did she want to. Instead she smiled seductively and tried to draw closer, to get the kiss she was almost promised. He started to push her away with a grave sigh. "Laura, you're way too young for this" Then he ran away, still looking like he was lurking around as usual.

###A.H.E.###

"I couldn't help but overhear you" She was awakened from her musings by someone putting themselves on the fence beside her. "Do you have a lighter?"

She apathetically lit the cigarette that was handed her. Now it was more than three months later and she still hadn't kissed anyone since Linnéa. Since Darcy, nobody had piqued her interest. Blasted b*****d, son of a b***h Darcy.

Now this guy made her feel something close to attraction again. His voice was like the bottom of a hot chocolate – dark, sweet and covering at the same time. She looked seemingly disinterested over her shoulder and recognized the guy: Wickedson, Willowby, whatever his name was. Before Elisabet went away for spring break she'd seen them together occasionally, kissing or cuddling.

"You don't have to look at me that way, you know, I already know how sexy I am." He was absolutely teasing her, judging by his shrugging shoulders and snug smile. It was not fair how Elisabet could be fugly and boring and still get all the best guys. Curse you, Darse.

"You keep muttering his name, you know. What has he done now?" Wisham looked so inviting, and so the whole story ran out of her, without her even noticing. "...and that's why I hate the c**t."

Her handsome companion was quiet for a while, and rose to leave. Before they parted he offered some words of comfort. "I think we have something in common"