A/N: A request from foreveranevilregal on tumblr.

I hope you all enjoy!

Regina feels something solid and paper-like hit her back, and she suddenly regrets ever deciding AP US History was a good idea.

She whips around in her seat, mindful of the teacher's attentions, (who was, thankfully to her academic career, focused on his own work for the time being), and gives the paper ball assailant a withering glare. One that was known to make nearly anyone cower in her seat, and just about the only thing she was grateful to inherit from her mother, just for times like these.

Emma Swan feigns innocence and settles her chin on top of her hands, her faux-doe eyes fixed on some unimportant spot on the wall. Regina clears her throat as quietly as she can and Emma's eyes snap her own, a smirk replacing her expression. Her nostrils flare and she points at the balled up piece of lined paper with unbridled irritation.

Emma mouthes Open it.

Regina mouthes back a very decisive No.

Emma shrugs and leans back on her seat, making sure her chair produces a creaking noise that Regina isthoroughly annoyed by, and crossing her hands behind her neck. An impulse to chastise her springs up, for Emma has been kicked out of class one too many times than could be good for her record, but Regina realizes that Emma would just pay her no mind and do what she likes as always, so she goes back to her own assignment, hating all the while how the balled up piece of paper seems to mocking her from it's position on the floor.

She is almost lost in her work, able to forget Emma Swan's smirk and that damn piece of piece of paper as she writes all she knows (and that is a lot) about the Women's Rights convention at Seneca Falls, when she feels yet another ball of paper hit her back. She glares down at the floor, but the previous paper is gone.

It's the same damn piece of paper.

She can see the expression on Emma's face right now without even needing to turn around, and she already is annoyed with it. She feels a clench in her stomach, her heart rate speed up, and suddenly the fact she was writing down slips from her mind entirely, and she thinks fine. She'll look at the paper. She places the pencil down, and surreptitiously picks up the ball of paper, simultaneously dreading and traitorously excited for what she'll find.

Hey.

A snarl overcomes her features, and honestly she could slap herself. That imbecile.

She turns around, and sees a very self satisfied Emma Swan, and wishes momentarily that she could chop all of her pretty blond hair off.

She takes deep, calming breaths and picks up her pencil once more to reply:

Leave me alone, and I won't make your life miserable.

Without looking behind her, she swiftly throws the paper in Emma's direction, knowing from years of badminton and tennis that the paper had reached it's destination. (And if it hadn't, well, she wouldn't claim any responsibilities for Ms. Swan's antics.)

Just half a minute later she feels her reply hit her on the back, and she gives a look to Emma Swan filled with so much disdain you'd think Emma had killed her puppy.

I don't think your focus is very good today, Mills. What? Suddenly cat got your GPA?

She rolled her eyes, and wrote out another reply, something between a smirk and a scowl on her face. She tries not to contemplate it, because she really does not want to do this assignment for homework.

I mean it!

Your hair looks nice today, by the way.

"Mr. Harper?"

"Yes, Regina?"

"May I please go use the restroom?"

"Of course."

She doesn't even look at Emma as she exits the room, fully intent on wiping the redness off her collarbones and not blowing her top, and therefore losing this ever long battle. She goes around the corner and takes deep breaths. Why the hell did Emma affect her so much? It made no sense. She'd dealt with idiots like this before, and nothing like this had ever happened. Emma Swan was somehow different from all the rest. There was no logic to it, but it was true.

And then that compliment. She ran her fingers through her hair, thinking about how nervous she had been to cut it. How her mother had pursed her lips, and told her a lady's hair should be long and luxurious.

Everyone had complimented it, so why was Emma's compliment any different? She didn't even care about her hair!

The truth is sliding around in her brain, and she knows it even without truly thinking about it. But that truth was absolutely terrible, and she refuses to accept it. Therefore it isn't going to be true for however long she wishes.

Even as she fels her heart stop racing, her stomach is still twisted into knots. She holds onto the railing, counting to ten like Dr. Hopper told her to, and clears her throat twice before adjusting her jacket and returning back to class.

She refuses to look at Emma as she takes her seat, and finds another note waiting for her, this time flat and just creased in the center.

Want to hang out at Pete's after school? I got paid yesterday, so I'm buying.

She contemplates the note for a second, rubbing her forefinger across the paper, wonders why she would ever be caught dead socializing with Emma Swan in public. She hears her mother chastising her in the background, but pounding of heart is drowning it out. She's supposed to be home for supper at six, and she shrinks inwardly at the thought of Cora finding out.

But for once, she really doesn't care.

Fine. But I'm buying for myself, thank you very much, Ms. Swan.

Again, she doesn't have to look around to know the expression on Emma's face. A similar expression settles over her own.

Idiot.