Nobody Told Me That I Would Be Learning To French Kiss HIM in French Class! [`o4]

"I thought we were making a model of a famous landmark in Paris."

"We are," I replied curtly, wiping the sweat off my brows.

"Hannah, your Eiffel Tower looks like the Leaning Tower of Pisa."

"I know that, Matthew," I said slowly through gritted teeth. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see him smirking silently at me as he continued observing me and my...work of art. Slumping my shoulders, I told him, "I'm not really the most creative girl in the world..."

"I can see that."

Ouch.

"Let me try, or else the clay might turn into something that might look as if it could eat you alive."

"I'm not that crappy at arts!" I snapped as he chuckled arrogantly, ignoring my angry protests as he molded the soft clay into something that looked like...

"I think we need to use toothpicks and stuff like that rather than this thing," he said about half an hour later. "Plus, the clay is starting to smell odd...where the heck did you get this anyway?"

"I don't know," I said hurriedly and he cocked his eyebrow. The truth was that I found it stashed somewhere at the back of my drawer. He sighed, leaning back against the throw pillow. "Tell you what," he said, fiddling with the small Eiffel Tower he made. "I'll take care of this, and you'll take care of the essay."

My eyes just stared at the tower. Damn it, how did he managed to mold it like that?

"Deal," I said warily. For the sake of credits, I hope that my French was good enough to let us pass the class. I looked at him weakly. He was wearing a simple white, short-sleeved shirt today with a pair of dark jeans. Even though his dark brown hair was tousled and messy, he still looked pretty good.

"You're not too bad," I muttered a moment after, tapping the touch pad of my laptop. The screen came alive with lights once more as I opened up the browser to do some research on the Eiffel Tower. He turned to look at me.

Smiling, he picked up a pencil and started to sketch out something.

"You're not too bad either."

Matthew picked up the guitar, completely ignoring his friends.

"You've gotta tell us, I mean not many guys have been inside Hannah Miller's house."

"Yeah, did they like...use 100 dollar bills as their toilet paper or something?"

Despite himself, Matthew laughed. "Why do you care so much? So her family is living a bit better than all of us. But that's just status, who really cares?"

Truth be told, Matthew was surprised from the first moment he saw her house. It wasn't like a mansion or anything of that sorts, but from the detailed design and the architecture of it, he could tell that Hannah Miller was really someone who's loaded.

No wonder she didn't really trust a lot of people...

He wondered what happened.

"I heard she almost got kidnapped several times last year. Maybe because of her family's wealth; and where her father is sitting, people are bound to turn into the green-eyed monster, don't you reckon?" Max said thoughtfully to James.

"Rumors," Matthew muttered, before he started to play the guitar to drown the voices out.