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Fuck.
Out of all the classes she had to be in, she just had to be in this one.My one. The one I've been working so damn hard since freshman year to master.
I fucking can't catch a break.
Not only do I have to suffer walking aroundmyhouse smelling her cherry blossom perfume everywhere, I now have to smell it here too. Since the big guy upstairs loves to fuck with me, he made sure that the only available seat in this whole classroom was right beside me.
So here I am.
Pissed beyond measure because for the remaining thirty minutes of this class, her very presence will be enough to distract me from what really matters.
The only thing that gives me some sadistic satisfaction is the way she's cowering in her seat, that dark chestnut long hair of hers covering her entire face as if it is enough to protect her.
She's hiding.
From me.
You can hide all you want, little stalker, but I see you.
The corner of my lip pulls upwards at the thought.
"Ms. Ames," Mr. Evan calls out. "Can you tell me what I must do to solve this equation?"
Sky lifts her head and tugs her hair behind her ear, showcasing her long neck, to stare at the problem in question. She bites her fat bottom lip, taking a minute to consider all her options. I don't even register her answer, but it must be right by the big bright smile that ends up cresting her lips.
And suddenly, my chest feels like someone just poured cement all over it. Because for that one split second—she's happy.
Fuck her happiness.
Not wanting that smile to prolong, I extend my leg and kick her chair, startling her.
Silver eyes that remind me of pale moonlight stare at me in astonishment.
I offer her my cruelest smirk, and she throws me an aggravated glare in response. But her bravery is short-lived when a faint 'stalker' is mumbled from somewhere in the room. Sky immediately shrinks in her seat, head hung low, her hair once again, the curtain she pulls to keep prying eyes away from her face.
A better person would feel guilty for making her a pariah at school on her first day.
Me?
Not so much.
Misery loves company, after all.
And if I have to live in utter torment with this goddamn union my father forced on me, why shouldn't she?
Only fair.
At least, that's how I see it.
And who knows? Maybe I can make her life bad enough that she cries off to her mommy. Tells her how she hates it here. How she wants to move back to whatever hole they came from. Maybe it will be the wedge that comes between my asshole of a father and his wife—no harm in trying.
Shit can't get worse than it already is.
When the sound of the bell rings, I curse under my breath, hating that instead of spending the time in class learning, I spent all of it thinking about Skylar.
The girl has been in my life for less than a couple of months, and already, she's a pain in my ass.
Not wanting to be in the same place she is, I bolt out of my seat and make my way to my locker. On the way, my phone vibrates in my pocket, Stacy's number flashing on the screen. I decline the call, not caring what she has to say.
