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Turning to the small mirror, I give myself a good once over. My eyes have always been my favourite thing about me. They are smoky grey, just like my father’s eyes. And I acquired my mother’s beautiful, long blonde waves.
What can I say? My parents have good DNA.
Makeup isn’t my thing, but Lex is always stuffing lipsticks and bronzers into my bags to get me to start using the stuff, so I pull out a pale pink Mac lipstick and apply a coat before smacking my lips together.
I study myself in the locker room mirror one last time and I am pleased to see a sophisticated twenty-year-old. Not a heartbroken girl.
Fleeting thoughts of Ryan fill my mind and I realise that I haven’t thought about anyone else seeing his story. It was humiliating enough for me alone, but now I’m wondering how many other people have seen it.
Who am I kidding? He’s part of our football team, The Wolves. I’m pretty sure his Instagram story is going to be morning gossip.
I leave the locker room and go to Starbucks to get my Hazelnut Frap before heading to Kensington University.
4
Make The Right Move
Hudson
I sit in the back of the literature class. I’ve been waiting for an hour already because I could hardly sleep this morning, nor could I ignore the gnawing tug of excitement that I felt.
It’s been so long since I’ve had a taste of what it felt like to play the game and get my target.
The other girls around me cast me quick, shy glances.Nerds.I know that I look moderately better than half the guys at this school.
My family has a lot of Italian blood dating back to the mid-nineteenth century, which helps a lot with my inky black hair, green eyes and tanned skin. The Saylor-Tyne trademark look.
I don’t spare those girls a second glance, because I want them to know that their secretive smiles are in vain and that a chance with me is a possibility that shouldn’t even have occurred to them.
A long time ago, I learnt that women always want and crave what’s bad for them. It just makes my life easier.
They want and I give and take. I take till there’s nothing left. I love the rush, the chase, the risk.
I tap my long fingers on the desk in front of me and let out a deep breath, before glancing up in time to see her walk into the classroom.
Parker.
Now that I am sober and all the alcohol has worn off from the night before, I realize that I was wrong about her beauty.
She isn’t just beautiful. She’s fucking sexy. Her golden hair is effortlessly silky as it spills around her slender shoulders and she isn’t exactly petite, but that’s exactly what I admire the most about. Parker is comfortable in her own skin and confident too. Is she a challenge or a weak girl with vulnerabilities? I can’t tell just yet, but I want to find out.
Her full pink lips part just a little as she speaks to one of the girls a few rows down from me. Even her lips are perfect. Full and juicy. I imagine those lips around my cock.
The lacy blouse that she wears leaves little to my imagination as she bends forward and exposes her chest. My pulse picks up immediately and I have to force myself to look away before I get hard again.
Instead, I focus on the file that I had gotten on her. Email address, her apartment building and even her phone number. All I have to do now is make the right move.
In all honesty, I could get any girl my money could buy, but Parker, Parker is different. There is something about her. Her purity. She’s too good, too innocent. Besides, it’s been a long time since I’ve entertained myself with a little challenge.
When the Professor walks in, I lower myself in my seat and watch as Parker pulls out her books.
I’m not actually taking Literature, but I need to see her and with so many students in the room, I can go unnoticed with ease.
“Egotism, pride, selfishness and vanity,” the Professor says. “All these things characterize narcissism in a person, which is why we’ll be discussing The Picture Of Dorian Gray today.”
I zone out for the rest of the lesson and observe Parker from the back. I am a few rows behind, but from here I have a full view of her side profile.
As the hour goes on, I watch her with deep concentration. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she takes down notes. She’s immersed in what the professor is saying. When she tilts her head, she exposes her pale neck and when she sighs, her lips pout slightly.
