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Paul Lahote was the new kid. He showed up in the beginning of their junior year and most students stayed away from him. Kim wasn't an exception. The bravest acts she sometimes allowed herself were peeking through her bedroom curtains if she saw him walking down her street or glancing at him during the classes they shared when she was sure he wouldn't notice. She was doing just that in her next class after the Jared fiasco.
It was biology, which meant Paul was sitting at the front, because Mr. Goldstein liked to keep the troublemakers "close to his heart". It also meant that Kim sat a bit behind and could see Paul properly, without fear that he would catch her gawking.
She had to admit, Paul was the second best-looking person she had ever seen. If she had to compare them, Jared held the crown, of course, but boy did Paul come close. Kim couldn't explain it better; Jared was like James Potter, always in a big group of friends, laughing, strutting around, while Paul was a sexy Severus Snape, always alone, always in the back. Well, except in Mr. Goldstein's class.
In Kim's opinion, Paul's best feature was his face, more specifically, his nose. He had one of those perfect noses that looked masculine but wasn't big or crooked or broken-looking. Other parts of his face weren't as spectacular, especially if you analyzed each of them separately. But, as a whole, it was perfect lines and symmetry.
Kim sometimes allowed herself the thought that Paul could objectively be considered more handsome than Jared, but there was something about him. Paul never had an umbrella or pulled up his hood when it rained, and it rained constantly in La Push. He always held his head high, like he was better than everyone else. His eyes flashed like he was looking for a fight with anyone and everyone. In fact, he often did look for a fight and usually won. In a small place like La Push, all these things were more than enough for people to gossip. His familial situation didn't help much.
Kim occasionally heard whispers, at the grocery store, on the bus, at school, about Paul and his parents. People talked about his mother, who had left, his father, who drank, and Paul, who was a whole lot of trouble, or so they claimed. She'd once overheard one of her mother's friends say that all that beauty was wasted on Paul, because he would probably grow up to be a criminal. If she was right, if Paul really was so bad, it meant that Kim was doomed. What could even stop him from telling Jared about what had happened in history class?
But surely, the crush of a virtually unknown girl from his neighborhood wouldn't have any significance to him, would it? Paul would forget about it by the end of the day, right? And of course, he couldn't prove anything. She didn't actually manage to say or do anything stupid. Yes, there was nothing to worry about, Kim steeled herself, but she still looked around trying to catch any strange or teasing looks coming her way. Nothing. She calmed a little and started taking notes.
Kimberly Connweller.
Kim Connweller.
Kim Connweller-Cameron.
Kim Cameron.
Kim couldn't decide which sounded best. Keeping her own last name seemed like a wonderful and progressive thing to do, but what if they had kids? Would her future kids have a different last name from her then? It hardly seemed fair, since Kim would be the one to carry them around inside her body for nine months. Would Jared even consider taking her last name? Having two last names seemed too long. She sighed and put the cap back on her purple pen. She tried to write in one of the beautiful cursive styles she'd seen in a YouTube tutorial, but her final result just looked childishly rounded and nothing like the original.
Mr. Goldstein was going over the things they'd done the class before and Kim allowed her brain to wander off. But suddenly, there was a collective groan and the word 'project' brought her back to reality.
"All right, all right, if you're done expressing your displeasure, let me tell you more about this project. The aim is to create a herbarium file of various plants of different species, along with their taxonomical hierarchy, description and importance," said the teacher. Another groan. Mr. Goldstein rolled his eyes and continued. "The project is due on the 7th next month, so you'll have plenty of time to finish it. Since I'm feeling generous, it'll be pair work. And, no, Miss Lang, you can't choose your pairs," he said to Kali Lang, who only managed to open her mouth in question and promptly close it.
Kim sighed. This was the worst part of all the projects. Not only did you have to do the work, but you had to do it with a stranger. In Kim's case, it usually meant that she'd have to pull the weight and do most of the work herself. So, why bother doing it in pairs? It only made things awkward and hard to organize. My house or yours? Which part to choose? And of course, when to do it?
"Allen and Smith."
The kids who actually wanted to do their part, didn't usually have time. Or they had brothers and sisters to babysit. Or they had to work after school.
"Hall and Lang."
And those who didn't, well, they just let Kim do all the work and read their part from a piece of paper when the time came, ruining all the hard work Kim had put into it.
"Connweller and Lahote."
Kim remembered that one time when- wait, what?!
She widened her eyes, hoping she'd misheard the teacher. But Lahote got up from his seat, and taking his sweet time, he walked up to Kim and took the seat next to her. She squeezed into the farthest corner of the double desk, making room for him and just as she reached for her things, he reached for her notebook and took it.
"Don't," Kim said in horror and the word got stuck in her throat.
He moved a little but kept the notebook, leafing through it, inspecting it and paying special attention to the flowery, frilly letters in which she decorated her own and Jared's name. The amount of those parts was so embarrassing that she considered for a moment telling the teacher and asking him for help. But what would she say, anyway? Mr. Goldstein, Paul took my notebook? It wasn't preschool. She was 17 and she was on the verge of tears over a notebook.
"Give it back," she tried again, horrified that she sounded so babyish. She should slap him, pinch him under the desk, do anything.
Paul just smirked at her, carefully took out his phone and snapped a quick picture of a random page in her notebook.
"Mr. Lahote, please refrain from using your phone in class or I will confiscate it."
"I just snapped some notes, sir, to copy at home," said Paul, the picture of innocence.
Mr. Goldstein arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Paul turned to Kim and smirked.
"So. Golden Boy, huh?" he said like they were continuing a conversation, even though they had never spoken to each other before.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Kim felt her face going red and not the healthy, rosy glow, but the burning red kind, that looked like an allergic reaction.
"That's how you wanna do it? Ok. But, personally, I think you should reconsider your approach. I kinda own you now. I'll need to consider the conditions."
"What conditions, what are you talking about?"
"Oh, you know, just the ones that will prevent me from,' he tapped the pocket where his phone was, 'sending this to everyone I know. Including Golden Boy. He might be happy, don't you think?"
Kim didn't know what to do. It felt like she'd swallowed a handful of dirt.
"You're a jerk." She managed to squeeze out.
"Honey, as long as I keep quiet, I'm your best friend in this goddamned world. I think we'll get along just fine."
Kim finally grabbed her notebook and stuffed it into her bag. For the rest of the class, she sat squeezed in her corner, quiet like a mouse. This day was a fucking bitch.