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The parking lotis dead except for the football players who have to get here for early morning workouts. It’s six forty-five in the morning. Six forty-fucking-five in the morning. I throw the doors to the school open, going through the security protocol. The hallways are empty, most teachers’ classrooms are dark. But not his, oh no. Mr. Boyd is sitting in his chair, a cup of coffee to his lips, hiding his smirk as I stomp into the classroom, slamming my own cup of coffee, a vanilla latte—with three expresso shots, skim not whole, three pumps of hazel nut, cream, shaken not stirred—down. His eyebrows rise, mouth tipping down. I have this urge to flip him off, but I can’t. Because if I do, I’ll get even more detention, and as much as I crave his attention, it’ll look bad because of how many times I’ve gotten it in such a short span of time. And being around him is a bad, bad idea.
I drop my body into the chair, an Olivia Rodrigo song trying to calm me as it plays through my AirPods. I don’t have noise cancellation on like I normally would, instead opting for the transparency mode. We stare at each other, eyes penetrating one another. It makes my body break out, little goose bumps like a rash on my skin spreading. My stomach heats, melting, my pussy clenching a bit as I look into his ash eyes. They’re dark, hungry, a pure reflection of my own. Causing me to remember the way he looked at me yesterday, taking me in, eyes touching, caressing every inch of exposed skin and pressed material, the way his eyes lit up at seeing my bow.
My hand twitches up, pushing my pink bow to the right just a bit. And his eyes, they track it.
Or maybe, the sickness is messing with me. Warping my reality into my fantasies. Making me crazy with delusions. The sickness of my mind can do that, make me think he wants me when all he sees is this tiny teenager who’s legally an adult, but wears bows like a child. I break eye contact, going for my pocket mirror, grabbing my light pink lipstick. I was too tired to apply it this morning, but now that I’m awake, hot and bothered by the man in the room, I decide to put it on. Because my lipstick is the other half of my armor. My clothes, the pink dress that’s longer than I care for, with the matching cardigan, is layer one of my armor, my bow is layer two, and finally, my lipstick. All of it makes me feel invincible.
I outline my lips, my mouth open in anO. Carefully, I fill it in, rubbing my lips together.
I think he’s watching me. But I can’t look, no, because if he’s watching me with the heat I feel radiating from him, I will lose it and do something I regret.
I grab a tissue out of my purse, putting it between my lips as I press down, getting rid of the color on the inside to avoid getting it on my teeth.
And then, I pull out my journal, music still playing as I write down my newest fantasy, all while he watches me.
* * *
“Babe?”Jake’s voice brings me out of my conversation with Bethany and Macy at lunch.
I turn over my shoulder, smiling. “Hey.” His eyes look alarmed as he takes me in. I frown, adjusting my bow. “You want to sit down?”
He looks to Bethany, a slight frown of his brow appearing which in turn makes me scowl at him. He seems to gather himself because he smiles. It’s obviously forced, which makes me extremely frustrated with him. I know he’s not like the rest, but the judgment is obviously still there. Jake sits beside me, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “What’s up, ladies? Where are the other two?”
“Jennifer is a twat and Veronica is a follower,” Macy supplies, taking a bite of strawberry cake I’d kill for.
“Oh.” Jake looks over to me in confusion, but I simply shrug. I don’t see a need to explain why I want to sit with Bethany. And let’s be real, that’s what he’s wondering.
“So, Bethany. What are you doing this weekend?” I ask, ignoring Jake’s curious eyes.
“Uh,” she looks up from her food, swiping her hair out of her face, “I’m going to the movies with some of my friends and then we’re going to this nightclub.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Really? Where at?”
“Main Street. It has this fun goth vibe to it. Plus,” she grins mischievously, “I have a fake ID.” She giggles.
“Hell yeah,” Macy says. “Think you could hook me up?”
Bethany nods eagerly. “Yes, do you maybe want to come with us tonight?”
Macy shrugs. “I’m down. Callum?”
“Definitely. I’ll need an ID as well, though.”
Jake slices a hand across the table. “Hold up. What about me?”
“What about you, Jake? You down or you still judging our new friend here, hmm?” Macy raises her eyebrows at him.
“Look, I’m sorry, it was just shocking, is all. Bethany?” He looks to Bethany with his winning smile. “That’s your name, right?” She nods. “Awesome. I’m Jake, a complete tool, I’m sorry.”
Bethany laughs. “That’s okay. Will you need an ID as well?” He grins, nodding. “Okay, Callum and Macy, I’ll need two hundred a piece from you and, Jake, I’ll need five from you.”
Jake snorts. “I see how it is.”
We all pull out our money, handing it over to Bethany, who grins.
The rest of lunch is spent planning what we’re going to do tonight and where we’re going. When lunch is over, Bethany leaves with an extra pep in her step that has my heart warming.
* * *
