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Part of that was thanks to Amanda. Scratch that. My complete lack of a sex life was thanks to her. She’d made me a pariah and had cashed in on it too. Her blog was monetized, and all the top sites loved paying her to put their ads up. It made me want to scream.
I was here on a scholarship, a scholarship that I worked my ass off to keep. I worked in the school library to help pay for my room and board, and the rest of my time was spent studying. Which was another reason I had no sex life. I didn’t have time to write blogs or harass other students. I was too busy earning money for school.
Amanda’s dad had a lot of money. Lots of money. The ‘my daddy owns four power plants and the state football team’ kind of money. My dad doesn’t have two nickels to rub together.
The fact that I struggled while Amanda just had to open up a webpage to make a buck, didn’t seem right at all. I struggled between wanting to scream and wanting to cry.
Instead, I pushed the trolley to a row of books that was Amanda-free and put a book back on the shelf there. Even though I was now four rows away from her, I could still hear what they were doing. Luckily, it was a slow day and there wasn’t anyone else in the library. I’d have reported her, but the head librarian just rolled her eyes at the antics of the students.
“I’ve been here for twenty-six years, Nicolette, and every year there’s at least one couple that tries it. We ignore it if it isn’t too obvious, and the library is virtually empty. Otherwise, we’ll handle the situation, but if it’s done discreetly. My best advice is to just ignore it, dear.”
Mrs. Lawson told me this the first time I’d come across it. I’d only been working in the library for a week when I spotted a couple in a dark corner, hands all over each other as the boy lifted the girl up against the wall to… Well, I don’t know because I’d looked away. Then I’d gone to Mrs. Lawson, to find out what we were supposed to do about things like that.
Her explanation had been simple.
I’d frowned at what she told me, but she was probably right. Why ruin a student’s career over something so silly? Except for when it was Amanda. I wanted revenge, not just for the torture over the last few years, but for the bullshit way she’d stepped up that torture this year. As if the rumors and the snide comments weren’t enough for her, or that stupid blog that I couldn’t get taken down, even though I’d reported it to the school and the web host, she’d tried to fuck me over again, this time with a more personal touch.
I stood quietly in the musty-smelling library as my thoughts went back to all those months ago when this latest battle started.
But when she failed again and came to me with her wide gray eyes and tears streaming down her face. “I need help with my final project in Public Relations Campaigns. You’ve done better than any of our classmates in the communications classes, and well, I don’t want to fail. I’m not going to pass if you don’t help me. I promise, I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll even shut down the blog if you’ll only help me.”
I’d wanted to refuse out of hand, but then an idea had occurred to me. She could help me, and I’d help her. Sort of. “Fine, you help me lose my virginity, and I’ll tutor you. But you have to be nice to me and help me. Do you really understand what that means?”
Fuck, it was crazy to give her another chance, but she looked desperate and by the second year, my loneliness was starting to get to me. The idea that I’d spent nearly two years here and still hadn’t made any real friends was something I just couldn’t take anymore.
She’d looked me over, and I knew what she saw. A girl of average height, with light brown hair and blue eyes. I wore clothes from a second-hand store, dried my straight hair naturally, and didn’t wear makeup. Well, not as much as Amanda wore. Some mascara, a little eye shadow, and eyeliner were about the extent of my makeup habits.
My body wasn’t bad, I guess. I think I was little too long in the torso, but I wore a C-cup bra, and all the time I spent walking kept me slim. Maybe a little too slim, some would say. I came equipped with long legs that I hid in baggy jeans, and feet that my family said should be too small to hold me up. I wasn’t going to win any beauty contests, but I wouldn’t be out in the first round. With some help, that is, but it was a mistake.
