I don't want to do this but I have to. I don't have a choice. As much as I hate the idea of what I'm being forced to do I'm desperate to remain the captain of the swim team so I must suffer the humiliation.
I bet you are wondering what I'm yapping about like one of those bubbly bimbos you read about in rom-coms.
Mrs. Dunlopoe one of the bitchiest teachers at East City High called me to her class for a "talk". The talk comprised of her telling me that I'm a terrible student and told me that she got me a tutor who will meet me in the library after school. That is why I am here walking with my hands carrying loads of paper heading to a place nobody ever goes to. I don't even know who my tutor is Mrs. Dunlopoe remained totally tightlipped about hi-
"Oomph." I groaned as I stood up. My glasses had flown from my place and we've now perched a good distance away making my vision hazy. I looked down and frowned.
Don't tell me this is one of those cliché moments when the girl runs into the guy and falls for him. I hope not because my heart is meant for me alone not some guy.
When I looked down my blurred vision made out a pair of parted black Air Max shoes which grew upward into the dark denim of jeans and to a loose black tee with a grey jacket draped over it. Further staring showed stone cold green eyes glaring at me. The face was what you would expect of a jock. It was Carson fucking Stone who run into me.
I rolled my eyes at him and crawled to my glasses. Once they returned to the bridge of my nose, I could see clearly. It was only then that I noticed the unwavering scowl on the jock's face.
"What are you still doing here?" I asked rudely.
"Well, that doesn't sound like an apology." His voice has deep and masculine sending shivers of distaste through me. I hate him already. Mainly because he's just like those guys in rom-coms.
"It wasn't the dimwit." I pointed out.
"Well then, get on with it." He said and I frowned. What the fudge is he yapping about?
"What?" I asked.
"The apology you dimwit," he stated frustratedly. Good to know I can get under his skin easily. Ignore the innuendo in that.
"And why will I do that?" I smirked when he sighed exasperatedly.
"Because," he dragged the word really long. "You fudging stained my jacket."
"My bad." I feigned innocence.
"Of course it was your bad. Now hurry up and apologize. I have places to be."
"Like? Let me guess Natalie Hawthorne' s house?"
"I would love to but no. I have important and confidential places to so apologize so I can leave." This boy is really annoying me. I think it's time for that my diss speech I've been practicing for years. Ready... set... go.
"Listen up you mobile skyscraper. I don't care if you have important places to be because you are going to stay right here and open those stupid lips of yours and let out a darn apology and you better do it right because I also have somewhere to be and I can't waste all my precious time talking to a retarded moving tree like you who is so self-righteous he doesn't realise just how darn wrong he is. Just do both of us a favour and let those words come out of your because as you can see, you are wasting not just my time but yours as well but I doubt the latter part even matters seeing as the only important thing a person like you could be doing is licking the pussy of one of your many booty calls." I paused briefly to catch my breath.
"So how about that apology?" I asked cheekily. When I looked at him it took all the bravery in me to not cower back in fear. His eyes were ablaze. The blue looked like it had been dumped in a bucket of black paint and I could barely make out that the eye color was blue. His forehead had a large green vein showing clearly and his balled fists did little to quench my fear. His eyes had this crazed I'm-gonna-kill-ya look in them and I was honestly petrified.
All too soon I was trapped with two options. One was to pray really hard till the lockers decided to have mercy on me and swallow me up and two was to beg him for his forgiveness.
But knowing me I chose none. I'm glad Bob made me take a Martial Arts course. I was swift in movement. The very second my intuition said he was ready to hit me, I kicked him where it would hurt most- his crotch and ducked under his burly frame before grabbing my papers from the floor (no way in hell was I going to leave them behind) and sprinted to the library.
I slammed the door shut behind me in case he decided to chase me and I collapsed on the floor as I caught my breath. My labored breathing was not leaving anytime soon so I sat there panting and trying to think.
Served that mutha-fucka right. Next time he'll think thrice (didn't want to use the usual twice) before attempting to hit a girl- especially one like me.
I got up after five minutes and walked to the books. A library is a place I've never been to. The floor was tiled and spotless. The books lacked the sheen of dust I expected and the shelves were made from mahogany. The windows were transparent and I got a good view of the teen-littered park which had different cars ranging from white Volvos through red mustangs to black Ford Explorers. Suddenly I heard the door open. It must be my tutor.
When I turned my eyes met a horrible, egotistical monster. The beast was:
Bradley.