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Kylie Barth. Knox’s most recent play thing. I’ve never seen her face fully. Not when she isn't in the middle of an orgasm anyway. Now, here she is. She’s beautiful: smooth features, white teeth, perfect body. I can see why Knox is attracted to her.
“I’m Violet.” I take her hand gently and give it a cautious shake.
Hastily, she takes my hand and pulls me closer to her, making my feet stumble against the shining tiles. Something angry flashes in her pure green eyes.
“I know who you are. I hear you’re this year’s trash trophy.” Her words are quiet but harsh in my ears. “Just because you’re sleeping in Knox’s bed doesn’t mean he’s with you. No one’s ever with him. Know your place, Venereal Violet.”
That nasty feeling in my abdomen is starting to be a permanent pain.
He told her that name? He told her my biggest insecurity?
And suddenly my stomach feels like it’s dropping completely out of my body. Some form of adrenaline pulses through me as my thoughts race.
I pull away from Kylie, my cheeks stinging red, somewhere between anger and embarrassment. “It’s not like that. I’m not with him. I’m– I’m not even friends with him. His dad was friends–” actually more likely fuck buddies, “with my mom. He’s been nice enough to let me stay for the year.”
“Neither Knox nor his father knows how to be nice unless they're getting something in return.” She pauses, then hisses, “Know. Your. Place.”
What a warm welcome this school has given me and in my first thirty minutes of being here. This... this is the warning I get? This is what the guys warned me about? A semi menacing lecture from someone who can’t form more than a three word threat?
I can handle this.
Jealous ex-play things are nothing and I’m sure Knox has a few more of them running around if I had to guess. Probably by the barrel full. If I roll my eyes any harder as Kylie walks away they'll likely get stuck in the back of my head.
With the supplies for my first class in hand I close my locker, give the boys –who are all three watching me with their pouty, bitter gazes– an innocent smile, a fuck you wave, and walk away. Purposefully, I put every ounce of confidence I have in my walk. A swing of my hips, my chin held high, and perfect posture just to show off how much they haven't affected me. They think they can get me down with that?
Nice try, boys.
The first bell rings to tell us to get to our classes and another set of shoulders meet mine roughly. Together these girls wear matching scowls, their kitten heels clacking loudly as they pass.
Okay, getting to class on time might be a little harder if everyone is going to insist on passive aggressively knocking into me.
Again… nothing I can’t handle.
I slip into the classroom with two minutes to spare. The big black and white clock on the back wall sets me at ease, at least I'm on time.
Students mill about the room, some have already taken their seats while others are still laughing with their friends. I spy an open desk not far away from Landon, who managed to beat me here. I doubt he had people bumping into him every few seconds.
Being completely flawlessly attractive probably gives you the right of way, so it’s no wonder he beat me here really.
“Hey,” I whisper with a weak smile I have to force as I slide into the wooden, polished desk next to his.
Landon doesn’t bother with a hello and the silent treatment carries on. It can’t last forever though. At some point one or all of them will cave and we will be back to being friends. This is just one little fight… or misunderstanding, if you will.
Friendships don’t crumble in the span of one day.
Do they?
A small piece of paper flies over my shoulder bouncing against my desk then rolling off. I can't resist the urge to look behind me at the person who tossed it. Oh God. Why? Damon. An awkward wiggle of his eyebrows has me turning back around, sliding further down into my desk. Damon is already laughing loudly with his friends.
I peer back at him again, his gaze never leaving me. He blows me a kiss.
He can't even blow a kiss properly but I guess no girl has ever broken the news to him.
“Damon, she doesn’t want to come back for more. Keep your tiny hands and microdick to yourself,” Landon growls loudly. Somehow he still can’t manage to meet my eyes.
But he stood up for me. A fleeting swirl of emotions burns through my chest as I look over at his vacant, straightforward attention.
Damon scowls at him. “She can talk for herself. I’m sure you’ve already dipped into that pot often enough she's tired of you. There's a reason she came on to me. Not doing it right, I guess.”
