Chapter Twenty Nine

Chelsea's POV
"Chels? Are you okay?" It's Kayla, and she's not only struggling to open the door, but she's also banging on it as hard as possible.
"Chelsea, are you okay? Open up, please." She pleads. She sounds really worried. Nonchalant, I don't care, always bored Kayla is worried about me. Weird So weird. But I guess you can't pin a stereotype on her cause she will definitely deflect and leave you second guessing everything.
"Answer her Chelsea." The man who is still pinning me to the wall, making my heartbeat faster than usual, and making me hot in the wrongest of wrong places, whispers in my ear. Making everything I'm already feeling double in size.
"I'm alright Kayla." I manage to croak out. "I just want to be alone, please," I add.
The banging stops and everywhere is pin-drop silent and the only things I'm hearing are the steady breathing of mister 'make me cream my pants and my own unsteady breathing. In the short span of meeting him, I’ve already given him a lot of info without even knowing his name. This makes me chuckle and he has a confused look on his face. I'm about to speak when KKayla talks.
"Okay, Chels. But be out in a bit, or else you'll be late for next period and I will have absolutely no choice but to beat this door down." She says almost sternly and doesn't wait for a response from me before leaving. I breathe out a breath of relief I didn't even know I was holding in and then it hits me.
I'm in the girls’ bathroom with a total stranger, who may or may not be a serial killer, who is pinning me to a wall and I just lied to probably the only ticket to leave this place. I am surprisingly not panicking.
"What's your name?" I ask curiously.
"Alaric." He deadpan answers.
"That's a weird name. Sounds ancient."
"It is." He says, looking me straight in the eye. Like he's been looking forward to this exact conversation for quite some time.
"Why did your parents name you an ancient name?" I probe.
"Because we were in ancient times." He answers and I can't help but laugh.
"What's funny?" He asks.
"The fact that you think you are that old."
"I am that old."
"Oh please," I say adjusting myself in between him and the wall. "You're most definitely in your early twenties."
"Physically, yes. But I have lived longer than that." He says indulging me.
"So you're like one of those people who were supposedly reincarnated?" I scoff.
"I don't think so." He says cheekily.
I squat down and sit on the floor and he follows me. I can't believe I am actually having a conversation with him, and I am not uncomfortable at all.
"So what is it then." I press.
"I have been alive for over five hundred thousand years but I have been in a coffin, preserved by a spell that was cast on me, leaving me to physically look the same and you young lady, woke me up."
"I did?" I ask confused. "How?" I question. I am so lost right now.
"I don't know." He says, still holding my gaze. And then he leans in slowly, making me automatically close my eyes. He kisses me on the cheek and I internally groan. By the time I open my eyes, he is nowhere in sight. What the...
Where did he go to? The door is still locked. And the bathroom window is too small for even me to pass through. Was I imagining the whole thing?
I stand up and go back to look at my reflection in the mirror. My face is red. Holy shit my face is red. Meaning he knew I was affected by what he was doing. Shit. Smartass. I proceed to wash my face and clean it with a napkin before unlocking the door and leaving the bathroom. At least it's only bad if I didn't imagine him. And if I did, then maybe he's a ghost and it wouldn't matter. I still can't believe any of it happened. And what does he mean by he has been alive for five thousand years and all that casting spell stuff?
I'm still thinking about that when someone pulls me into the janitor's closet out of nowhere.
"What the hell?" I ask, still very much fazed by the way. I look up to see Torin. Well shit. Why do guys have the sudden urge to trap me today? Like really, why?
"What's wrong with you?" He asks carefully. I am flabbergasted.
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?" I ask, fuming. "You are the one pulling me into closed spaces, which by the way, is very serial killer-ish of you," I add making him sigh in frustration.
"Kayla said you locked yourself up in the bathroom and I am the last person you talked to before heading in there." He says in frustration and maybe a little regret as to why he is bothering to check up on me.
"Both statements were true and I am perfectly fine. I have learnt over the years to handle your inconvenient attitudes." I say crossing my arms.
"Fair enough." He says.
"Of course it's fair. Sometimes, you are so annoying, I just want to kick you in the balls and punch your stupidly perfect face." I suddenly say out of frustration.
"You'd break your finger doing that or even attempting it. And you would definitely hurt your knee." He says nonchalantly and I stare at him in disbelief.
"You little.." I start to say but he interrupts me.
"I just wanted to know what our assignment topic would be. Considering we are still working together."
I'm looking at him with my mouth half open.
"What?" I ask.
"Don't make me repeat myself, Chelsea. We are inevitably working together, so do you have a topic?"
"Uhmm. No. Not yet."
"Okay. We can discuss it tonight." He removes a pen from his pocket, pulls out my hand, and scribbles down a phone number on my palm.
"Text me tonight and we will see what we can come up with."
He doesn't give me a chance to say anything and just leaves. And I'm pouting because why is no one letting me have the last say?