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Mona felt her eye twitch when she saw Scaramouche by the door frame.
She had just finished her weekly astrology club meeting and wanted nothing more than to head home and take a well-needed nap. The rest of the members had already left almost ten minutes ago while she had to stay back to clean up and organize a few papers. Her week had been draining, and she really had no desire to speak to Scaramouche—especially in light of recent events.
She made a poor attempt to furtively escape the room, however, Scaramouche stood blocking the doorway. He wasn’t that much taller than her, but it was enough to keep her from slipping out.
“What do you want?” Mona sighed, having given up. She withheld any form of hospitality in her tone; not trying to give him the idea that she wanted him to be here.
“No greeting?” He taunted, letting go of the door knob. The door shut close behind him. “Or are they absent as well?”
Mona cringed at his specific choice of words. She knew she was at fault, but she didn’t need him to be pushing it down her throat. “Will that be all?”
“You haven’t given me a proper reason yet.” He insisted, and Mona found herself internally groaning.
To put it in simple words; there had been a group project—only the stars would know why the teacher thought they would make good partners—which led to consecutive meetups between the two. Following after were a series of events she’d prefer not to recall, which involved moments that were far too intimately charged to be considered friendly. Somehow, the tide between them shifted, and now every exchange between them was riddled in tension.
And then was the invite to the party, when Scaramouche had asked her to attend the winter dance with him. She stood him up without a proper explanation.
Mona took in a breath. “I told you. I was sick.”
Scaramouche wasn’t dumb, unfortunately. It was obvious to him that she was deflecting. “Funny. You didn’t have any symptoms.”
Mona absentmindedly evened out the pile of papers she had been organizing against the table. “It was a sudden overnight thing.”
Silence etched the room, and Mona could feel his gaze piercing through her skin. She nervously flickered her eyes to the clock above the door. It was way after dismissal, and most of the students had probably left by now. She only wondered why Scaramouche couldn’t be one of them.
“Look, I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” She began, grabbing her bag. “We can have this conversation some other time. I’m leaving now.”
He crossed his arms, staring at her. Scaramouche had ink blue eyes that could penetrate through her bones. His eyes were painstakingly beautiful, and they evoked this strong sense of intimidation as well. She shuddered slightly.
Regardless, Mona’s main objective currently was to leave. But when she reached the door, there was one slight, teensy-weensy problem.
The door was locked.
Fuck.
She tried again, and her hand wrestled against the door knob. Yet it seemed to make no difference. Scaramouche raised a judgmental brow at her.
“It’s jammed,” she concluded. “It won’t budge.”
“What do you mean it’s jammed?”
“The door isn’t opening.”
He gave her a mocking laugh. “Obviously you have no strength, considering that rabbit food you consume."
Mona scrunched up her brows in disapproval. So what if she liked salad? “If you have so much to say, why don’t you try it yourself.”
"Just watch and see.” He said, making a show of walking up to the door knob with oozing confidence. His fingers wrapped around the knob, rings clinking against the metal of it, and he made an extravagant show of pulling the door knob.
Only to completely fail.
Scaramouche stared at the door knob a little before letting out an unbelieving laugh. “It’s because your hands are sweaty, and so the door knob is slippery now.” He theorized, almost like an assurance to himself. The narcissist couldn’t handle such a bruising defeat, it seemed.
“And why is it my hands that are immediately guilty of being sweaty?” She frowned. “What if it’s your own?”
“It’s not mine.” He insisted.
“Well it’s not mine either.” Mona contended, putting her hands forward in show.
Both their gazes end up toward the door.
“Shit.” Scaramouche cursed. “We might be stuck for a while.”
Scaramouche paced back and forth in the room while Mona sat with her hands bunched up in her hair.
“This is impossible.” The aspiring Astrologist whispered incredulously, as she stared at her dead phone laying pitifully on the table. She had forgotten to charge it the night before which left her with less than 20% for the day.
“You’re so irresponsible. Who forgets to charge their phone on a school night?” He remarked from the side, and Mona huffed in frustration.
“You’re one to talk.” She narrowed her eyes, “You broke your phone into bits. Don’t lecture me about responsibility.”
“I was going to buy a new one this afternoon.” He added as if it was any justification to his case. If anything, it made it worse—that he had the privilege of having money to solve all his problems; an easy way out.
Mona sighed in frustration for what seemed to be the nth time, and decided to try the door one more time. She approached the stubborn door once more, and with a steady grip, she twisted the door knob and urged it open. It didn’t work. She heard Scaramouche’s amused chuckles from behind her.
With her free hand to her hip, Mona turned her head around to glare at him. “Instead of giggling to yourself, could you be of any help?”
“Sure,” he shrugged nonchalantly and walked over to her. The distance between them closed till she could catch a whiff of his cologne. Lavender.
Mona tugged at the door again, and this time Scaramouche offered support. His hands settled firmly on the sides of her hips, and they held onto the flesh firmly. Mona felt a tingly feeling rush up her spine that sent the baby hairs on the back of her neck standing upright. She was not sure how he’d even be helping with such awkward placement, but she didn’t bother to ask. Instead, she wondered what it would be like if his hands roamed lower down…
“What are you waiting for?” He whispered, and his brows were slightly creased downwards. Did he know what he was doing? Was this on purpose? “Why’d you stop?”
“Stop what?” Mona asked in a frenzy, completely distracted. It was crazy how she could be so sidetracked by something that shouldn’t even have her batting an eye. Scaramouche’s touch shouldn’t even be concerning her.
Though, it stood a blazing reminder to the time at his house. When they were on his bed gathering research for their presentation, and how she had accidentally hit her eye with the eraser of her pencil. He had then held the side of her cheek, examining her eye. Mona could distinctly remember where each of his fingers were stationed. She could remember how his thumb slid down to her bottom lip.
“You stopped trying to open the door.” He cleared, and Mona was snapped out of her reverie.
She blinked a few times to reassess her focus before pulling on the door again. Her attempts were futile in the end.
Hands letting go of the door, she let them fall to her sides. By now, Mona was heavily deciding on just giving up and living out the rest of her days abandoned in a room with little to no sunlight and her only company being a gremlin.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thought. The gremlin, however much annoying he could be, wasn’t necessarily boring company. She would certainly be entertained… in some weird twisted way...
What was she even thinking? Being stuck with Scaramouche was the last thing she should ever be considering in a positive light!
That all being said, the gremlin’s hands were still positioned on her hips. She wasn’t sure how to even tell him to move his hands away. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted him to move his hands away–
There she was, having those absurd thoughts again. They needed to be put on a leash at this rate.
It was probably her losing her sanity due to being stuck with Scaramouche for this long. How long had it been, anyway? 20, 30 minutes?
“Your hands." She began, hoping he’d get the idea.
He doesn’t. “What about my hands?”
Mona was unsure on how to continue.
After a brief silence, he had the sudden realization. His palms flew away quickly, and he mumbled incomprehensibly. “Shit… I didn’t realize...”
She had never heard Scaramouche falter this much in his speech. He was king of the debate team, and was reputed to be swift with his words. Mona looked over to the boy, who now stood on the other end of the room. He looked almost feverish due to the red that flushed his cheeks and ear tips.
No words were exchanged between the unfortunate pair for a while. She made herself comfortable on the couch, and flipped through a stranded magazine. Currently, their only hope was the janitor that would eventually come around.
However, fate’s cruelty seemed to be on Mona’s neck when her stomach let out a rumble. It wasn’t one of those cute, petite little rumbles. It was disruptive, impolite, and in strong inclination for food. And because of the already settled silence, the grumble resounded louder in the room.
Mona wanted nothing else to go home when Scaramouche stared blankly at her. She could feel her skin heating up from embarrassment.
“Have you skipped your meals today as well?” Scaramouche asked, a ghost of concern that touched his words. Somehow, his phrase still felt like a judgment.
“I didn’t have an appetite.” She stated, and as if on cue, her stomach grumbled once again. He chuckled as one would to a child. Mona hated when he did that. Almost posing her as inferior to him.
“So you say,” He teased, approaching the couch. He took a seat next to her with a maintained distance, and rummaged through his pockets a bit before picking out a granola bar. He threw it over, and it fell on her lap. “Better than the lettuce and carrots you nibble on all the time.”
Mona squinted her eyes at him, unappreciative of his side comment. “Stop implying I’m a rabbit.”
“If the shoe fits…”
She threw the granola bar square at his face.
Scaramouche made a show of rubbing his nose at the impact of the granola bar. He should join the drama club too for his exaggerated theatrics.
Mona had her legs crossed as she pondered the contents of her astrology club meeting today. They were low on equipment so she had to request for more funding from the school, which would prove to be a difficult task.
She took a bite into the granola bar as she pondered. The school seemed to be very dismissive of the astrology club, and the percentage of money invested toward it paled in comparison to the other clubs. There was almost a hierarchy when it came to the clubs, and her Astrology club was one of the more less prioritized.
“What’s this?” Scaramouche asked, straightening out a paper. Mona peered over to see her weekly astrology column for this week. She still had to submit it to the newspaper club. “You’re still persistent with that zodiac bullshit?”
“It is not bullshit.” Mona scowled at him, puffing up her chest a little. “Capricorns are one of the signs that are most likely to reject astrology. You’re living proof of your sign.”
“Then your stars are finally right about at least one thing.” He replied, flicking off a piece of granola from the corner of her mouth.
Mona shivered slightly at his contact. “Oh, shut up.”
“Capricorns this week will become entangled in an issue and will be forced to deal with tribulation." Scaramouche read aloud from the transcript. His brows furrowed. “Why is every column you’ve ever written on Capricorns so negative?”
“That’s what the stars indicated and I wrote it down.” Mona answered simply.
“It almost feels like you’re projecting.” He tilted his head back into the couch headrest and gave her a low-lidded look. Mona didn’t understand why, but she liked his expression more than she should. “Like you villainize Capricorns out of spite for me.”
“Please, like you’re that important.” Mona scoffed, waving his remark away as if it were a fly. “My work is always unbiased.”
“Really.” Scaramouche said, unphased. His tone was a mixture between a statement and a question.
“I didn’t even know you read my part of the newspaper.” Mona pointed out. She leaned in closer to tease his space, a palm propped up against her gasping mouth in mock surprise. “Are you that obsessed with me?”
“Obsessed is a strong word.” He dismissed, pushing her face away. “I only read your columns to laugh.”
“It’s never winning with you.” She sighed, a bit frustrated with how insistent he was when it came to their bickering. He always wanted the last word.
Scaramouche smirked to himself, satisfied, as he flipped over the page to the other side. “Virgo,’ isn't that your one?”
“Yes.” Mona responded, a bit caught off guard at how he remembered her zodiac sign. She noticed his eyes darting from one end of the paper to the other, scanning the typed print.
“This week, Virgo’s are going to be confronted with something they’ve been actively avoiding. Be prepared!” He repeated the words on the paper, and then raised a brow at her. “See the bias? You add little words of encouragement to every other sign except the Capricorn one.”
He got her there, she’ll admit.
“And I’ll give it to astrology for this one,” He began, “Isn’t it ironic how well this description fits what you’ve been doing lately?”
Mona swallowed hard, suddenly noticing the scarce distance between them. “What are you even talking about?”
“The whole reason why I came to this room was to clear up things.” Scaramouche explained, and Mona anxiously averted her gaze.“Yet you have been ‘actively avoiding’ it.”
Mona opened her mouth only to have no words to say. Her tongue was dry, and the back of her throat felt like it was piled in sand. He was right, she had been avoiding it. She had been avoiding him, actually.
Why? Because Mona Megistus probably wasn’t as courageous as she put herself out to be—when it came to her feelings, that was.
Ever since the day he had asked her to the winter dance, she found herself hesitant. She was unsure. She was afraid. She was so many things. Because the weeks prior, everything had seemed to move by like a movie. The accidental hand touches, the close proximity, the subtle flirting amidst heated arguments.
Hell, his mom and aunt even knew her by now.
And the invitation set everything to steel. It solidified all the floating mixed feelings and pinned them down to the ground. It forced her to come to terms with everything.
She could have said no, but she didn’t. Because, maybe she felt the same way. Maybe she had more than just hate for Scaramouche. Maybe she saw him in a higher light. Yet she still ultimately stood him up. Without a proper reason at that too.
“I’m sorry.” She blurted out finally, and Scaramouche seemed a bit if not taken back by her sudden apology. Apologies weren’t a common component in their odd relationship. “I should have been more honest with you.”
“Then be honest now.” Scaramouche determined. “How do you feel about me?”
The million mora question.
It was cliche, but Mona felt her heart hammering. It pounded against her ribcage and begged to run away. At least they both had one thing in common. How did she feel about Scaramouche?
When she thought of him, she thought about an annoying gremlin who had no other goal in mind other than to bother the living shit out of her.
But the catch was that she didn’t mind it. She didn’t mind it at all, actually.
Mona didn’t understand why. What was so endearing about him? He was attractive, sure, but his personality was ass. She would have never imagined herself with such a jerk. It would be an insult to herself.
Yet everything about him felt right. He kept her on her toes, and though they were sore, she didn’t want to return the heels of her feet to the ground. Mona liked engaging in squabbles with him, she liked the way he spoke and the expressions he made, she liked the idea of holding him in her arms. She liked a lot about him.
“I think I might like you.” Mona admitted in a quiet voice. “But I both hate and love that I do.”
Scaramouche smiled at her response, serving a light playful punch to her cheek. “Well, you can’t have everything you want.”
“Shut up,” Mona swatted his fist away, before attempting to return the gesture. However, he grabbed onto her wrist before she could hit him.
“You have weak aim.” He commented, with the sole intention of provoking her. “The rabbit food isn’t doing you any justice.”
Mona didn’t know what got over her, but the next thing she knew, she had lunged on top of Scaramouche. She looked down on him in hopes he’d look up at her in shock. Yet the only thing she saw from him was amusement. The bastard was enjoying this. He even had the nerve to slip his hands around her waist.
“I would love it if you kissed me right now.” Scaramouche asked with his gaze steady to her lips.
As she leaned her face down, and as she felt his lips graze hers slightly, the echo of keys jingled from the hall. And without notice, the door that had kept them locked for over an hour swung open.
The duo set their eyes to the door, to which an unsuspecting janitor stood, completely frozen by the scene in front of him.
Mona felt her eye twitch. She swore the stars had it out for her that day.