Lavender Regret Pt. 02: Prelude

I'm late for chemistry, stepping into the lab just a few seconds after the bell. I could get away with it on a normal day, but Dr. Hausen is at the front of the class with an unfamiliar student. A new girl. St. John's doesn't get a lot of new students in the middle of the year, senior year especially. I duck my head under the professor's stern glare, heading for my seat.

"Find a seat," the professor tells the new student. I missed the introduction apparently. She's pretty, with light brown hair that's more blonde at the ends. Her eyes are cornflower blue, wide in her little elven-featured face. She's incredibly short, barely five feet or so. I'm almost five seven so when her footsteps carry her toward the empty lab stool beside me, I'm nearly taller than her while sitting down.

"Hi," she says. Soft-spoken but not shy, she meets my eyes without hesitation. "Is this seat taken?"

It's not; working with others isn't my strong suit and I've made it through the semester without a lab partner which suits me fine. This class is over in a couple of weeks though, so I think I can rough it. "Take it," I tell her. The words come out rougher than I mean them to; she hesitates. "No one sits there," I say, adding a halting smile that's probably not as reassuring as I mean it to be.

"Thanks." She sits, after an adorable moment of clambering up the side of the stool. Short people are robbed of their dignity in so many little ways. My smile must be working, she speaks to me again. "What are we working on?"

"Transition metals," I answer, shifting my notes across the table toward her. This catches a few eyes. I'm somewhat notorious for not sharing. She's new though, so I make an exception. She leans in to read my small, meticulous hand-writing and I'm suddenly aware of her scent. Lavender and bubblegum.

"Oh, I covered this already at Midlands," she says. Midlands. They're St. John's competition, academically and athletically. I'm vaguely surprised she's so openly admitting she transferred from there.

I spend the rest of the period working on my final project. She helps, each sample settled in aqueous solution, the vibrant colors of each beaker forming a rainbow as they stand in formation. Ferrous gives me trouble, the stubborn violet hue making a mockery of my work, but she adds the oxidizing agents needed to change the ferric the proper yellow-brown hue.

The bell rings, and I turn to thank her, startling slightly when I realize she's standing right behind me. I look down at her, she's so close she has to tilt her hear back slightly to look at me. If this were a movie, it would look like she's waiting for a kiss. I flush, taking a step back. "Thanks," I manage, scooping my notes into my bag. It's lunch time; I could use some fresh air.

"You're welcome," she says brightly, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort. "The dean showed me where the cafeteria is, but I've forgotten," she continues. "Can I walk with you?"

"Sure, I guess." I turn to lead her out of the classroom, and waiting outside of the door is Jason, his varsity jacket left undone despite the chill of the hallway. His smell is acidic, the salty tang of boy sweat.

"The new girl," he says, addressing her with a wide, easygoing grin. She smiles in return, and I'm immediately jealous - but not of her. I push this strange feeling aside, heading for my locker to put my books away, leaving them to their conversation. I'm slightly mollified when she walks away from him to join me, my eyes darting over toward her briefly. She's looking up at me again, why does she stand so close? The back of my neck tingles.

"The cafeteria is this way," I tell her, and the three of us head off, Jason regaling us with the story of him stealing home plate at practice. St. John's athletes get to forgo gym class, instead using the period for extra sports practice.

When we arrive, Jason holds the door open for her. "Aren't you coming?" she asks when I don't immediately follow. Two sets of blue eyes stare at me expectantly, one set soft like flowers, the others a dark, sapphire hue. Jason's eyes are his most striking feature and he knows it.

"I'm going outside, I'm not hungry." It's true; standing there, I realize I have no appetite and the gnawing feeling in my stomach has nothing to do with food. I force myself to look at Jason instead of the plaintive little new girl. "Are you coming?" I ask him. Her face falls, I pretend not to notice. My stomach churns harder.

"Yeah, of course," he says after a moment, shooting her an apologetic smile as he slips one arm around my waist. We head for the doors leading out to the commons. I keep myself from looking back at the source of my discomfort.

The scent of lavender and bubblegum lingers on the edge of my mind for the rest of the day.