From Paris, With Love [GirlXGirl]

Chapter II

Let me tell you something about Claire.

Claire's two years older than me, making her twenty-seven already. She was born and raised in Paris, France, hence why she has a heavy French accent. She has a master's degree in Information Technology, majoring in webpage design, and currently an instructor at a university in France.

Now about us.

I met her a few years ago when I was attending college. And let me tell you this, it was the worse and also the happiest days of my life.

July, 2009

It sounded like a market place; filled with gossips here and there. My classmates and even those of another class reminded me of a swarm of bees; buzzing around and leaving these annoying noises. How they squealed in delight or have disbelieving gasps. They're gossiping about the sudden resignation of one of the instructors in the I.T faculty, Miss Dela Cruz. An instructor for the webpage design subject. And they're also talking about Miss Dela Cruz's replacement. It spread around the whole I.T students like wild fire.

Not that it concerns me though.

I was not really the 'active' one in class. I'm one of those students who just want to finish the day and head home where my videogames are, as soon as possible. Of course, maintaining the average passing grades here and there as well.

"Par!"

I turned to the source of the voice and found one of my friends, Marie, approaching me.

The term 'par' is my own shortened version of the term compadre, a Spanish term for 'friend'. This is what I randomly called my friends when we first met during our freshman years. I blame my laziness to remember names.

Looking at my friend, right brow raised, I silently asked what she wanted.

"Heard the news?" Marie asked, sitting on the chair beside mine.

Looking back on what I was previously doing – writing – I hummed as an answer. She already know that it means I'm not interested with the gossip. But knowing Marie, she'll tell me all about it anyway.

"Right. I never should've asked that. Anyway..." she leaned back on her seat. "I saw this new instructor and believe me, either we will learn from her or the male population will be drooling over her. Or whichever comes first."

I hummed once again. I'm not interested with some oldie instructor who will make my male classmates, and probably some females, have wet dreams. I attended college for studying, despite it being a shortened term of 'student-dying' due to the curriculum, and not dating or flirting.

I let my friend talk while I pretend to listen to her.

Then I noticed that my chattering classmates and my friend stopped talking.

"Salut à tous. Bonjour! Je m'appelle Claire Le Creuset."

The hair on my nape stood on end and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

The foreign language, French, made me look up and search for anyone who said it fluently.

Sights upfront, I saw no one that I know who can speak French. Slowly turning to my left, I think my heart stopped for a second when I saw someone new. Someone that doesn't seem to belong in this room.

Blonde hair that complimented those clear blue colored eyes.

Stylish clothing that looked like she stepped out of a fashion magazine.

Smile that shows curiosity and amusement at whatever she saw in this classroom.

A Frenchwoman.

'Wow. An authentic Frenchwoman. Hmm, she doesn't look like an oldie. Perhaps a few years older than me,' I mused, watching the new instructor make her way to the table near the whiteboard and placed her things on top of it.

My eyes were set on her, waiting for whatever she will say to the class.

"For 'zoze who did not underztood what I zaid earlier, let me zay it in anglais. I zaid 'Hi everybody. Good morning. My name is Claire Le Creuset'," the blonde instructor said with a cheeky smile on her face. I blinked a few times when I saw her smile. "Az you have probably heard, Madame Dela Cruz turned over her clazez to me. Now, before I ztart 'ze claz, allow me to get to know all of you firzt."

Her accent's something to take note of. It sounded alluring to my ears despite the heavy accent. It's bad enough that I have a thing with accents and hearing it firsthand, well, I can say that I might have an eargasm.

My mind was in 'lala land' when I realized something she said. 'Did she say she wanted to get to know us?'

'Shit.'

That's when I realized that I don't like her already. Instructors setting up these 'get to know you' stunt really doesn't sit well in me. There are things I can say about myself but I don't like saying it in front of my classmates. Thank the gods that my last name starts with-

"Zaragoza, Elize."

'For freaking gods of Asgard's sake!' I groaned when I heard my name being called. Sure hearing my name being said with a French accent was divine, but knowing why I was called is downright annoying.

Marie snickered when she heard my name too and I just glared at her. My friend grinned and nudged me to stand; which I didn't do.

"Mademoiselle Zaragoza?" Instructor Le Creuset said as she looked around the class. Probably looking for me.

Sighing heavily, I stood up and found my instructor's gaze on mine. Those green colored eyes looked at me with curiosity while smiling like a conniving cat.

Strange...

I thought her eyes were blue? Was I wrong in thinking they were? Too bad; blue fits her perfectly.

But anyway, ignoring the instructor's eye color, I found that I'm now in the center of everyone's attention. Great. Something I really hate.

She sat on top of the table, legs crossed and her hands placed on the table for support. I'm betting some boys are pitching a tent on their pants right now at how much she looked like a model of the said furniture. "Mademoiselle Zaragoza, I prezume?" she asked me which I nodded as a response. "Perfect! You can tell us any'zing you want," the instructor told me.

Those horny dogs aside, she did say I can tell her anything. Oh I'll tell you anything. Taking a deep breath, I faced my instructor who patiently awaited my introduction.

"My name is Elise Zaragoza..." I paused and smiled at her. A smile that I rarely show to anyone. "And that is all," I ended and sat back down.

To say I left a bad first impression with this instructor is an understatement. Instructor Le Creuset's smile widened and she just looked back on the class list and called the next student, ignoring what I said. Usually the other instructors will insist I give more information about myself, but this blonde didn't.

After the whole introduction, my instructor didn't spare me a glance all throughout the class. She provided us her subject curriculum and told us that the final project will be a website. The whole time she was speaking, not even sparing me a glance, irked me to the point of hating this class and the instructor for reasons I'm not even sure what.