Capture the Moment (Moments #1)

8. Cleo

eight

Cleo

I love Mondays.

I love them because they bring a sense of newness; it’s the start of a new week, a new day, and a new me. I love knowing that no matter what I did the previous week or weekend, there will always be a Monday coming up to wash away my regrets and give me a fresh start.

Today, in particular, I love the start of a new week just a little bit more.

I awoke to Georgia with a warm cup of tea and a Pink Truffle donut from The Sugar Hole with her insisting that a donut a day keeps the hangovers at bay. I hadn’t been bombarded with questions from either Jace or Georgia all weekend. Hell, I haven’t even seen Jace since that crazy car ride a few days ago.

But what truly tops off my Monday is that I have gone a full four hours without any interruptions from—

“ DON’T ANSWER! DON’T ANSWER! DON’T ANSWER —” The cautionary tone of my mother’s custom-made ringtone cracked the happiness spell I’ve been under as I pulled my vibrating phone from my purse.

Decline .

Mondays are my favorite days, even if they’re the day that Lorelei Smith decides that she wants to be a parent. With a small huff, I brush off the call that I ignored and smile, stalking towards the lecture hall for Film Studies 3002.

I can’t contain myself as I work my legs to move faster toward the building that is every media major’s wet dream. The media building holds four lecture halls, as well as five distinct studios where students are allowed to practice and film for projects and assignments. It’s also used for the school’s broadcasting club to film their random videos and news segments.

This building alone played a major role in my decision to transfer.

Sucking in a deep breath, a content sigh expels from my lips as I step foot into the building. The expansive modernized atrium catches my breath as my eyes travel from the marble flooring to the high ceilings where silver light fixtures in the shape of abstract cameras brighten the naturally lit area.

“Wow—” The word gets knocked from my body as a strong force pushes me to the side, I close my eyes in anticipation of hitting a wall and sigh when the impact never comes. Instead, my body is being held by strong warm hands and I tense again as the owner of said hands apologizes.

“I’m so sorry! I thought you heard me say ‘wait up’ but then I realized you didn’t when I practically ran you over, and then…” His words grew distant as my phone began to ring its annoying tone again, essentially blocking him out.

“DON’T ANSWER! DON’T ANSWER! DON’T ANSWER—” I ignore the call and force a smile.

Blake stands in front of me with a weary grin as he looks down at me. His beautifully blue eyes are so bright and warm, I almost get lost in them as he and I share a quick look.

“You going to get that, Princess?” he asks, warm hands letting me go, finding solitude in his pocket.

“Hm?”

“The call… You know, the ‘ don’t answer’ one.” He laughs for a moment, then looks off to the lecture hall in front of us.

“Don’t worry about it… I have to go,” I quip and turn on my heels, heading toward the lecture hall where I’ll be for the next 16 weeks. As I enter the hall with my head down low, I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I’m being followed… I almost ignore it until the creeper following me decides to bump into me for the fun of it.

“Watch it.” My teeth grit, side-eyeing the tall smiling male beside me.

“Oh! Cleo Jones, look at that… We’re in the same course!” Blake gasps, feigning shock as a cocky smile slowly but surely crosses his face. If I’d known that he’d follow me around like an anxiety ridden puppy, I wouldn’t have let him go down on me last weekend. But oh, was he amazing at what he did… If I think hard enough, I can just feel—

No .

Absolutely not. I cannot go down that road.

“Looks like it.” I sigh, pushing aside my dirty thoughts and sliding into one of the many rows in the middle of the hall.

Not too far from the front where my non-glasses wearing eyes aren’t straining, and not too far from the back where there are fewer people. In the hopes of getting away from the large entity that is Blake Wilder, I sit by a girl with her head down.

From this angle, I can’t see her face because her dark brown curls cover it, but she seems to be drawing something. She has an edgy vibe, wearing a leather jacket and black jeans but her aura is enchanting.

“Take a picture but make sure you get a good angle,” she teases, lifting her head to reveal a dazzling red-painted smirk.

I think this might be the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen. Her deep brown skin glows under the ambient lighting of our lecture hall. Her cheekbones are high and soft whilst complimenting the small Marilyn Monroe mole on her upper lip. She smiles as if she’s also checking me out and sticks her hand out, seeing as I’m still dumbfounded by her.

Blake snickers behind me, snapping me out of the haze.

“Denver Castillo,” she says with a smile brighter than the sun.

“Cleo…” My voice is breathy as my cheeks warm. Denver’s smile widens as she nods, and then it suddenly drops as her brown eyes wander behind me.

“Gross, Cleo, you brought a fly in with you.” She frowns as Blake lets out the most obnoxiously loud laugh I’ve ever heard.

“Settle down, Seattle. You know you love having me in all the same classes as you.” He responds with a mocking smile.

Am I missing something? My eyebrows furrow at his comment and Denver seems to see it as she shakes her head smiling .

“Blake’s my cousin…we’ve been stuck in the same courses together for more than a year now.” She sighs, running freshly manicured red nails through her hair.

“We’re only in the same courses again because you’re stalking me,” he counters, humor riddling his tone.

At that, Denver rolls her eyes and unlocks her phone. The screen lights up to show an image of Noah Larkin’s infamous paddock walk from last year’s Bahrain Grand Prix.

“You watch Formula One?” The question is out before I have the chance to think over my words.

What if she thinks I’m a creep? What if she believes that me seeing her lock screen is an invasion of privacy? What if she—

“Damnit Cleo—” Blake groans, only to be cut off.

“Of course, I fucking love F1. You a fan?” Denver asks, eyes wide with excitement as she focuses all of her attention on me.

“Is that a question? Eren Marlowe has been my lock screen since he first debuted three years ago.” I chuckle, holding up my phone to show her proof.

“Girl you’re just like me! Have you seen the stats from last week’s GP?” she asks, completely engaged in the conversation, and for once, my stomach flutters. This could be the new start that I needed, a new friend.

“Alejandro Sanchez should’ve won,” Blake huffs from beside me, I’d almost forgotten he was here. My stomach clenches as I look him over completely for the first time today. He’s dressed in a muscle-hugging white tee, dark jeans, and an SFU Tigers letterman jacket with a matching blue backward cap.

He’s a walking wet dream; my thighs clench, but I refuse to give in.

“Don’t you have anything better to do other than stalking me, creeper?” I ask.

“Why, of course not, Princess” He smirks, twirling my ponytail between his fingers.

That fucking flirt. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for him or any man so I swiftly turn back to Denver and effectively shut him out.

“Have I seen it? Baby I breathe F1, look at my Instagram. It’s all I talk—”

“Wait a minute… I think I do know you from somewhere.” She pauses, studying my face inquisitively. This action piques Blake’s interest. He scoots in closer to me, his arm brushing mine ever so slightly that the close contact sends a shiver down my spine. I immediately push that feeling away.

I came here to focus , not fondle ice warriors.

“You do?” My body curls inward as if waiting for a ball to drop as Denver clasps her hands over her mouth.

Does she know me? The real me? Does she know the girl that I tried so hard to run away from? The one I worked so hard to leave back at Bright—

“You’re fucking IcingIt on YouTube!” she gasps, and I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding.

“IcingIt?” Blake’s question falls on deaf ears as Denver smiles widely at me, drawing closer to my face.

“Dude, I thought you went to Brighton, so I never thought I’d meet you. We’re definitely friends now, I need more people that can talk F1—”

“Ladies, If you don’t mind… I’d like to continue with class.” A brown-skinned woman, with long locs and braces, calls from the podium at the front of the lecture hall.

We’d been talking for so long; I hadn’t even noticed the professor had begun with the class. I was so into talking with Denver and gushing about last week’s Grand Prix that I almost forgot that we’re in a lecture in the first place.

Almost. My merry facade and happiness crumbles as a voice I know all too well speaks.

“Hello, everyone, you may know me as Olympic Figure Skater Lorelei Smith. Today, I’m here as Lorelei Smith, the director. I’ll be popping in over the course of this semester to help you all with the end-of-the-term project worth 50% of your grade.” My mother drones and my heart proceeds to plummet. Just five seconds ago, my heart was up in the clouds, and now it’s practically in hell.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Blake smirking, but I brush him off and focus all of my attention on the woman who birthed me .

Sometimes I like to think that my parents found me on their doorstep but that fantasy crumbles every time I see my mother’s face which is the exact replica of my own.

“This project will be a partnered assignment, showcasing the lives of you and your partner as well as interviewing them in various stages of their semester in a documentary style format. The best of the best will have the opportunity to work with Lorelei in her upcoming docu-series and to work as an intern at NWZ studios in the spring.” My professor, Teyana Hawkins, whose name I remember from my syllabus, smiles at the various faces in the room.

An internship with NWZ has been my dream job since I was 11, more specifically as a sports analyst for On the Ice. I would kill for this chance. Hell, if Prof. Hawkins said she wanted a kidney for it…I’d give both of mine.

But fuck I do not want to work with my mother on this.

“I can’t wait to see what you all put together this semester. Since it’s the first day of classes, I will hand out everything you need for the assignment now so that you all can get a jumpstart.” Professor Hawkins’ voice is sweet as honey as she ruffles through a stack of manilla envelopes and cameras on a spare desk in the room.

“When I call your name, one person from each group will come up and retrieve an envelope with more details on the assignment as well as two color-coded camcorders to document everything.” Professor Hawkins double checks the list on her computer before beginning the roll.

“Alana Rhodes and Ariana Smith,” she starts, piquing my interest.

“Is she going by first names?” I ask no one in particular but I can feel the smugness rolling from the hockey player to my right.

“Bailey Kidd and Ben Thomas…Blake Wilder and Cleora Jones…Cora—”

Slowly, I turn my head to face the smug bastard already staring back at me with a smile.

“Hello partner, nice to make your acquaintance.” He grins.

Mondays are officially the worst.