It only occurs to me when I reach outside my bedroom door that Adaline has never been inside my house, let alone my actual bedroom.
Suddenly, my hands start perspiring. My legs are starting to become frozen and I have to force myself to move and open the door.
Why do I care what she thinks of my bedroom? Is she going to think it's dishevelled because there's art everywhere? Or is she going to think it's unimaginative—
“I can't believe your room actually has personality,” Adaline compliments backhandedly. My heartbeat starts slowing down and I look over to her. She is staring so intently at every inch of my room.
I like it.
Every aspect of my room is covered in art; the walls, floors, even my door was covered completely.
I'm still astounded that I was able to cover my room considering how humongous it actually is. It was the only room in my house that contained even an ounce of colour that was neither neutral nor aesthetically pleasing.
“Let's make a start,” I say swiftly, pretending like I didn't care for her comment.
I sit on my queen-sized bed, the velvet sheets feeling impeccable on my bare thighs.
I immediately take out the contents of my bag and look up. “Don't even think about sitting on my bed.”
Her head snaps to me at my warning, then she narrows her eyes. “I would rather drop dead than risk being anywhere near Adonis's cum.”
Ugh. Why did she always have to be so crass?
“I can assure you my bed is cleaner than your whole house.” I spit out in a tight tone. She just rolls her eyes at me and pulls out a chair from underneath my desk and sits on it.
For a split second, my eyes are drawn to her long, slender legs. Why did she always wear skirts? I mean, obviously she can wear what she likes, but would it kill her to wear a pair of trousers for once?
I'm so utterly sick of seeing her tanned, soft legs,
although I always thought those long legs would do very well on the cheerleading squad. I bet she's super flexible too.
Too bad she's a dyke; I don't let perverts on my cheerleading squad. I shake my head and look up, thankfully, she's engrossed in her own bag and didn't catch me looking. Not like I was staring anyway; I was simply observing.
“What are we starting with?”
“Well, what is your weakest point?” She man-spreads her legs slightly and I feel myself growing irritated.
“Everything.”
I would be embarrassed to admit that to anyone else, but with Adaline, it's different. She has seen the worst parts of me and always assumes the worst of me in any scenario, so I never have to be embarrassed.
She nods in response, opening her textbook. “Let's start with cell structure. It's definitely going to be on the test we have in the next two months—”
“We're gonna have a test?” I question, bewildered. She just looks at me with annoyance painted on her features.
I really need to start paying more attention in biology. I knew we have a few exams in the next few months before our final exam at the end of the year, but I didn’t know it was this soon.
“Yes, you would know that if you paid attention in class, dumbass,” she mutters the last bit under her breath, but still loud enough for me to hear.
My nostrils flare. “What did you just call me?” I ask in a dangerously seething tone.
She looks up at me and blinks. “You heard me.”
Dumbass? I’m a plethora of things; I'm vindictive, cruel and a pain in the ass, but I am not dumb nor have I ever been called dumb.
I despise that word. While I've never heard it directly, I know some people assume that I'm unintelligent. It's true that I doubted my intelligence as a child, but I don't anymore; I know I'm smart.
It's not my fault I'm just not obsessed with biology like Adaline. It's crystal clear that she loves the subject and is crazed about becoming a surgeon. She might as well be carrying a stethoscope around with her at all times.
