Fire and ice

CHAPTER ONE The tall gates of Crestville High had always been intimidating. Behind those gates were vast buildings, long corridors, endless classrooms and entitled, snobby rich kids who always looked pristine in uniforms she had to pay for in installments over two years. Dream hated this place; the surroundings, the air, the people. Every single thing here had a way of reminding her that she didn't belong. But she hated the certificate and the opportunities that came with it less. Thankfully, she would be out of this hellhole soon. One more year to go. Taking a deep breath and gathering whatever courage she had left, she was about to pass through the looming gates when an Audi R8 drove in. The car stopped, and out stepped Saint Michaels, the only son and only child of Nathaniel Michaels. The Michaels owned half of Port Harcourt. Real estate, entertainment, commerce, technology, they had enough money to feed generations. A huge mansion on the hill. An empty house. A rich father who was rarely home. Saint didn't smile. He didn't talk. And he was incredibly handsome too. He was the kind of handsome that made you look twice, then look away too quickly because his eyes were too cold to hold. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair that was always a little messy. His uniform was always perfectly pressed, but his knuckles... His knuckles were always bruised every Monday morning. No one knew why. No one dared to ask. As for Dream? She was obsessed with Saint Michaels. She had been for the longest time. Her little secret. She saw what others didn't see. She saw how he sat alone in the cafeteria every single day, not because he was proud, but because no one was brave enough to sit with him. She saw how he flinched whenever his teachers called his full name, Saint Michaels, like he hated the sound of it. She saw how late he stayed in the library, not reading, just sitting there. She had noticed the scar on his lower lip, the one that appeared whenever he chewed on it. Everyone saw a monster. She saw a boy who was hurting. In this hellhole, watching Saint made her agony a little more bearable. She had noticed him three years ago, on her first day. She had just gotten admission and was wandering through the hallway, completely lost. From the way she was dressed, it was obvious to the students she passed that she didn't belong there. They avoided her completely, refusing to help her find the administrative block. On her quest, she stumbled upon a room and found Saint. He was sitting peacefully on a chair, his head tilted backward, his eyes closed, an earbud in one ear. Dream was awestruck. She didn't dare approach him out of fear. But she always watched him from afar, partly out of curiosity. He wasn't like the other kids here. Saint was just... Saint. And she loved that about him. Dream had no chance with Saint. She knew that. But there was no way she was giving up. Not yet. Because somewhere along the line, she had fallen for him deeply without even realizing it. She felt pathetic. He didn't even know she existed. And even if he did, Saint didn't do girls or love. He didn't smile. He barely spoke. He didn't need to. Girls wrote him letters, slipped them into his locker and left chocolates on his desk. He burned the letters without reading them in the Chemistry lab bin and gave the chocolates to the janitor. He was ice. Complete ice. And then there was Dream. Dream wasn't the popular girl. She wasn't the pretty girl with expensive hair and a perfectly pressed uniform. She sat at the back of SS2B, laughed too loudly when the teacher cracked a joke, and her uniform was always a little rough around the collar. Between juggling multiple jobs and helping her mother at home, she barely had time to press her uniform. Her father had left them years ago. After watching Saint disappear from her line of sight, she made her way to the classroom for the first lecture of the day. English. The teacher wasn't in the classroom when she arrived. Students were scattered around different areas of the large classroom. Boys and girls gathered in groups in different corners, chatting and laughing loudly. Her eyes searched for Saint. She found him sitting by himself, staring out the window. She sighed inwardly. She settled into her usual seat at the back and began arranging her desk when her friend, Tonia, approached her. “Dream! It's been a while. How was the holiday? You look so good!” Today officially marked the beginning of the new session, and Dream couldn't have been less happy about it. The air buzzed with the familiar back-to-school excitement. Everyone looked excited, trying to catch up on each other's lives during the holiday. New wardrobes. Instagram vacations. New shoes. New cars. New villas. Everyone had something to show off. Tonia was one of those polite, effortlessly friendly girls. Her father was a politician, while her mother was a renowned lawyer. She was extremely pretty and actually nice to Dream from her very first day. Dream had never understood why. “The holiday was okay, Tonia. How was yours?” Dream didn't have much to say about her holiday. All she had done was study hard to maintain her scholarship and work even harder to support her mum. “Okayyy, that's nice. Anyways, I had the best holiday everrr—” Tonia was about to launch into the details when the teacher walked in. Dream didn't know whether to be relieved or grateful. Probably both. --- The bell rang, indicating lunch. Tables and chairs scraped against the floor as students hurried out, their footsteps filling the hallway. Dream stayed back, politely declining Tonia's invitation to have lunch with her and her friends. Apart from the fact that Dream hated Tonia's friends, she needed some space to herself. She needed to think. She needed to think about how she was finally going to step out of the shadows and approach Saint Michaels at lunch. Today. She was trembling inside. She thought of everything positive that could come from her decision and found absolutely nothing. “Argh, this is really hard.” she had already started to chastise herself. But her mind was already made up. She was tired of playing it safe. Tired of wondering about the what ifs. She made a few small mental speeches to herself before pushing herself up from her seat with a determination she didn't know where she'd found. Then she headed straight for the cafeteria. She ordered her food and made her way toward the table Saint usually sat at. He was there. Alone. Idly eating while scrolling through his phone. It must be something interesting, she thought. Her hands shook. Her heart pounded against her chest. She wondered where all the courage she'd had earlier had gone. Probably out the window. She cautiously approached Saint's table. He didn't notice her until she placed her tray on the table with a loud clank. Saint looked up from his food and silently stared at her awkward standing figure. Dream wanted to cry. She cleared her throat and made herself comfortable on the chair opposite him. Saint raised an eyebrow, a cold expression settling over his face. The silence was suffocating. That was when she noticed the eerie quiet that had fallen over the cafeteria. People were watching them. Everyone. “Get lost.” Saint's voice was low, but it echoed throughout the room. Then suddenly, bursts of laughter erupted around them. Dream died approximately seventeen times from embarrassment. Whispers flooded the cafeteria. “Who does she think she is? That brat.” “Who the hell is she?” “She must think she's special. The audacity.” “I know her. She's the scholarship kid. Very useless girl.” Then came the cackles from every corner. Dream felt dizzy. She might have lost her balance if she hadn't already been sitting down. Saint had already returned to his food. Back in his own little world. Oblivious to the damage his words had caused. But Dream was stronger than that. She swallowed hard. “Hi. My name is Dream.” No reaction. “We're in the same class.” Nothing. Dream took a deep breath and tried again. “You look very nice today. I mean... you always look nice.” Dream swore under her breath. What was she thinking? Saint slowly looked up again. This time, his eyes were colder, darker and very much irritated. He looked at her like she was an insect that had landed in his food. “You're sitting in the wrong place.” His voice was deep and low. Dream forced a smile. Her hands were shaking beneath the table, but her voice didn't. “I know. I like wrong places.” A small murmur went through the cafeteria again. Everyone was even more intrigued. No one had ever spoken back to Saint. Busybodies, she thought. “I don't like company,” he said, even colder. Dream got bolder. “Then you'll have to learn to.” With that, she picked up her spoon and started eating her rice. Saint stared at her for a long second. He was used to fear. He was used to girls stammering and running away. He wasn't used to this girl with big brown eyes eating her jollof rice as though nothing had happened. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his face close to hers. Close enough for her to smell his cologne. Close enough to see the tiny beauty mark near his left eye. “Listen, little girl,” he began. His voice dropped into a dangerous whisper, one only she could hear. “You have no chance with me. Don't waste your time. I don't do love. I don't do girlfriends. And I especially don't do girls like you who think they can fix me.” She knew this. But that didn't make his words sting any less. That was the aim. Dream felt tears pushing behind her eyes, but she swallowed them. She placed her spoon down. “I know I have no chance,” she whispered, looking straight into his cold eyes. “But can I ask you something, Saint?” He frowned at the use of his name. “When was the last time someone actually stayed after you told them to leave?” He went quiet. “Then let me waste my time,” she continued, her voice shaking now. “At least I'll waste it on someone worth it. You don't have to talk to me. Just let me sit here. Today. Alone.” She hesitated. “Please.” Something flickered in Saint's eyes. It was so fast that if she had blinked, she would have missed it. Surprise. Confusion. Like no one had ever said that to him before. He stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. He picked up his tray. Dream's heart sank. She thought he was leaving because of her. But as he stood, his eyes fell on a small piece of paper beneath his tray. A paper she had slipped there while he wasn't paying attention. He picked it up. He was about to crumple it, just as he had done with all the other letters. Dream held her breath. But he didn't. He stared at the small, messy handwriting. I see you. You don't have to be cold every day. Someone cares-D He looked at her. Really looked at her. His expression was unreadable. Then he slipped the paper into his pocket, inside his blazer, close to his chest. And walked away without saying another word. Dream was stunned. So was everyone else. She sat there alone at his table, her heart beating wildly, a stupid smile spreading across her face. She did it. She had no chance with Saint. But today, he kept her letter. That was enough for Day One.