When his eyes meet mine, I can’t look away.
If he made his awful suggestion right now, I wouldn’t have the wherewithal to turn him down.
Luckily, he doesn’t.
“Aren’t we running late?” I ask just to say something, to make it look like he hasn’t blown my mind with his casual elegance, his slap-you-in-the-face beauty.
“Teachers have a staff meeting every Wednesday.” He turns to me, flashing teeth a dentist must have lovingly nurtured to maturity. “Youhavebeen away a long time.”
I have and now he mentions it I vaguely recall that midweek is always a late start and an early finish, the latter because of the sports taking place in the playing fields out the back of the school.
When he pulls into the student carpark, he touches me lightly on the wrist. “You look beautiful.”
His gaze is sincere enough to have me blushing, and Ifeelbeautiful, inside and out.
As I get out of the fancy car belonging to the richest, handsomest boy I’ve ever seen, I think that absolutely nothing can ruin my day.
“Did you see her?”an indignant voice squawks, three hours later. I ducked into the bathroom at the start of the lunch breakand now I’m trapped here. Tied in place by embarrassment while a group of girls loudly discuss me outside the stall.
So far, they’re not my biggest fans.
“Gingers shouldn’t be allowed on campus, let alone be permitted to steal royals away from the rest of us.”
A snort greets this declaration, quickly stifled.
“I heard she works at the strip club in town,” another girl says. “Can you imagine how run-through she must be after working in a place like that?”
My face burns and my lip swells where I keep biting it. I should have emerged at the start, cutting their bitch-fest short but I mistakenly thought it would be easier to hide until they left. Now they just keep going… and going… until I’m annoyed at them and myself.
“Sila told me she’s his cousin,” another girl says, followed by a chorus of ‘Ew.’ “And she got sent here straight from being locked in juvie on the west coast.”
“That’s even fucking worse,” the first one replies, making a retching sound. “They were holding hands when they went into English this morning. Barf.”
“I heard they were practically Frenching each other in the common room.”
This is ridiculous. I can’t stay in here all day. Don’t these bitches have better ways to spend their lunch break?
Apparently, not.
They’re launching into a new round of lies and insults when I lose my patience and gain my courage, flouncing out of the cubicle, chin held high, heading straight to the sink to wash my hands.
“Morning,” I say to the crowd of gossips two sinks over, primping my hair once I shake my hands dry.
There’s a curl by my ear that I can never get to stay in place, and I try to hook it out of the way, encouraging it to stay with alight sprinkle of water. When I glance at the group in the mirror, they’re pulling faces at each other, one girl standing slightly aside.
I take out my lipstick to touch up my colour, making a show of getting it precisely up to the line.
For theatrical flare, I smack my lips together and pout when I’m finished, lightly licking across to give them added gloss. Then I reach down my top, adjusting my boobs inside my bra, plumping them up to make the most of my cleavage.
When I undo the top two buttons, it creates quite the show.
My skirt waistband gets the treatment next, rolling over and over until it hikes the hem to expose another two inches of thigh.
I step back, turning from one side to another, making fish lips at the mirror before taking out my phone to fake-pose for a couple of selfies.
“Oh,” I say, seeing a blonde girl’s gorgeous, oversized earrings. “Can I just get a picture of those? They’re adorable.”
I snap the shot before she can protest, typing out a message, mumbling the words under my breath but loud enough to be heard, “Maddox, sweetie, could you get me a pair like this from…” Then I turn back to her. “Where did you get them?”
