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“You call her Trixie, it’s funny cause I’ve been calling her the angry pixie ever since I met her yesterday.”
Her cheeks redden and Elijah suddenly jolts, and I’m hazarding a guess that she’s just booted him one right under the table.
“Come on guys, introduce us already and then you can tell the pretty girl why you’ve suddenly changed your mind,” says another guy as he drops down beside me.
Elijah glares at him, but I refuse to read too far into it. I don’t care what the world says, guys are just as complicated and confusing as they feel us girls to be.
“I’m Elijah, the pixie here goes by Ivy but Trixie the pixie has a much better ring to it,” he gets a punch this time which makes him laugh deeply before he continues the introduction.
“The runt on your left is Noah, and last but not least, we have Amias. So, what’s your name beautiful?” he asks as he waggles his brows.
“It’s Henleigh,” I reply, as I look over the other two.
Noah is far from a runt, he may not be as broad as the others, but he is still toned in a less, gym obsessed way. Definition is clear to see through his shirt, but it isn’t straining and threatening to blow a few buttons. Hard to guess his height whilst he’s sitting, but I could definitely get lost in his chocolate-brown eyes, damn!
But seriously, he is model worthy with long hair on top but buzzed at the sides and a cute boyish smile on his face. He’s all kinds of contradictions in one.
And then there’s Amias, his eyes are so dark I swear they’re black, with short messy hair and a ruggedness that gives me the impression he wasn’t raised in the safe neighbourhoods either. He’s got tanned skin as though he spends a lot of time outside and I never thought I was a fan of facial hair, but his goatee has my fingers itching to run themselves through it.
Okay that’s it, I’m ignoring these guys before I start having anymore inappropriate thoughts. I do not have time for this, plus I can’t stop thinking about that Harrison guy. I just want to head butt a wall a few times and try to knock some sense into myself.
“Henleigh Monterey I like it, did you know there’s a cheese called Monterey Jack?” asks Elijah and my middle finger shoots right on up.
He holds his chest as if I’ve shot him while the others smirk, he’s the comedian of the group then and clearly loves a bit of drama.
“Tell her then Ivy,” says Amias and his voice reminds me of melted dark chocolate and coal crackling in the fire. It’s warm, it’s hot and too damn sexy for my health.
A seventeen-year-old’s hormones are not easy to handle, and just because most of the kids where I grew up were sleeping around and losing it before the age of sixteen does not mean that I plan to.
“You’ve got Chelsea and Britney stewing over the way you fobbed them off. Octavia automatically hated you the moment she saw you, if you’re better looking than her then you’re an enemy. Plus her beau was definitely checking you out during form room.”
That’s all she says as she stares at me, but it doesn’t exactly explain why she’s suddenly at my table.
“Look, I made an assumption that you would join with them and treat everyone else like we’re lesser than you. But the way you talked to them shows you really don’t care about being in the popular circle,” she continues, staring intently at me.
“What about that twat Harrison, seriously what crawled up his arse and died?” I ask without keeping my voice low and everything goes dead silent.
I look up to see the four of them staring at me, in a mixture of shock, mirth, and awe.
“A twat hey,” comes the rumbling of Harrison as he spins my chair around so I’m facing him.
“Shove off Harrison, she’s allowed to speak her mind,” says Elijah standing up.
“I thought I made myself clear earlier Monterey, I do not want to hear you speaking my name. This is your final warning don’t cross me,” he says, before heading back to his table.
“Whatever you say, Harrison,” I shout back and if looks could kill, I would be dying an agonising death right about now.
“See what I mean, we should keep her,” says Elijah, his eyes sparkling and he’s practically bouncing with pent up joy.
I stand up, I’ve had enough of people my own age. I mean they could be a couple years older, but I don’t care, I just want to be left alone.
“No one is keeping me, I don’t want the drama and I really don’t need any friends,” I say, and I swear it lights something in Noah’s eyes just before he takes my plate and devours my uneaten meal.
Two
Day three and I feel sick to my stomach, I’m not sure why I’m feeling like this, but something feels, off. I gaze around my room for the rest of this year and other than a picture of Elliott that I keep by my bed – and my journal that I keep stashed in my now empty suitcase - it’s entirely devoid of anything personal.
There’s a double bed, not that we’re allowed to have anyone sleep in our bed or probably even in our room with us, but I’ve seen the odd girl sneaking out of an impromptu sleepover. There’s a dark oak wardrobe standing proud next to the door of my en suite which houses both a bath and a walk-in shower and then there’s a little sitting area. A sofa and an armchair, positioned around a coffee table with a sideboard off to the sidewall with all the makings for a tea, coffee or even a hot chocolate.
