Paper Flowers
ERICA COPE
CHAPTER ONE
“Why is it that when a guy is a tease or a player it’s somehow considered hot, but when a girl happens to enjoy flirting, she’s a slut?” I asked my best friend, Oliver Wallace, as we made our way through the parking lot, weaving in between our classmates who were all chattering away like long lost friends reunited as if they didn’t spend the entire summer together.
It was the first day of school junior year, and summer had slipped by too fast. Days spent at the pool had been my happy place. I wish I could’ve laid there forever, soaking up the sun with the smells of salt, coconut, and a hint of chlorine drifting in the air.
“Are you seriously asking me that?” He rolled his eyes, gripping a strap of his backpack with a hand as he shook his head at me.
Oliver had changed a lot this summer. He still had the same shaggy brown hair and steel gray eyes, but everything else about him was different. He used to be this scrawny boy with braces, but over the summer he’d traded his skateboard in for a hard hat. He had been helping out at his uncle’s construction company since June and I had to admit that working that jackhammer did wonders for his physique.
“Yeah, I mean, the hypocrisy of it all astounds me,” I continued my rant as we entered the red brick building. “You would think that in this day and age there wouldn’t be such double standards. You’re smart. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know, Cami. It’s just the way our sexist society works, I guess,” he said as he dug out his planner and new class schedule from his bag.
“It’s so unfair.” I sighed dramatically. He looked up at me with a knowing look in his eyes.
“What did you do now?” he asked pointedly.
“I did nothing!” I said defensively. Maybe a little too defensively judging by the expression on his face.
I knew he was waiting for me to confess and I also knew he wouldn’t stop giving me the look until I did. Even when I turned toward my locker, I could still feel those cool gray eyes on the back of my head. With a sigh, I turned back and faced him.
“Fine. But I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“You never do,” he mumbled before returning his attention to his schedule. He didn’t need any further explanation from me and I couldn’t decide whether I was happy he didn’t press me for more details or kinda infuriated that he just assumed he knew.
“I really didn’t.”
“I’m sure,” he said, disinterested.
“I was just being nice,” I explained.
“You’re a very nice person,” he said with a sarcastic air to his tone.
“At least pretend to sound sincere when you say that.” I pouted.
It was his turn to sigh now, and I knew I was about to get lectured.
“Listen, Cami, I know you can’t exactly help it. You’re a flirt. You should probably just accept it.”
“I don’t mean to.”
He gives me the look again.
“Okay, fine, I don’t always mean to,” I amended.
“Better.” He chuckled. “So whose boyfriend was it this time?”
I muttered her name as I spun the lock on my locker.
“Didn’t catch that,” he pressed.
With a grumble, I spoke louder, “Maddie’s.”
“Maddie had a boyfriend?” he asked, shocked. Maddie was a pretty girl—really pretty—but she had a voice like a mouse and breathed through her mouth. It didn’t help matters that her breath always smelled like Cool Ranch Doritos and broccoli.
“Right? I know,” I said, shaking my head. “I totally didn’t see that coming.” It really was baffling.
“So what happened?” Oliver asked, leaning up against the locker next to mine.
“Same ole, same ole. I was just talking to him and the next thing I know Maddie’s friends are sending me hate messages saying it’s my fault he dumped her.”
“Nice,” he said.
“Yeah, well, whatever,” I muttered, mostly to myself, as I shoved my backpack into my locker. Who had time for all the petty high school drama anyway?
After a summer of lounging by the pool, perfecting my tan and flirting with the many, many hot lifeguards, I hadn’t really been looking forward to coming back to school. But on the other hand, a new school year meant the potential for new blood—hopefully hot new blood.
I was getting antsy for a new challenge.
It was almost as if my thoughts were prophetic because as I was waving goodbye to Oliver before class, I ran into something tall, warm, and enticingly yummy smelling.
Or I guess I should say someone tall, warm, and enticingly yummy smelling.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said at the same time he offered up an apology of his own.
“After you,” he said, gesturing for me to enter the room before him. He had sandy blonde hair and baby blues that could make a girl swoon and that air of confidence about him that goes hand in hand with being a star athlete. Based on his height, I’d guess basketball player, but he had the build of a baseball player so it was hard to say. One thing was for sure, the guy obviously worked out—a lot.
He also was an impeccable dresser, smelled like expensive cologne, and was definitely new here, which had my insides prickling with excitement.
I took a seat in the middle of the room. I had hoped he’d take a seat in front of me so I could casually scope him out some more, but he headed straight for the back instead.
“Morning class,” Mrs. Tupper greeted us from her desk. She shuffled through a few papers, finally finding what she was looking for. She looked up and scanned the class for the first time, stopping when her eyes landed on me.
“Cami? Could you please pass this out for me?” she asked politely.
“Sure,” I agreed. I practically jumped out of my seat for the opportunity to get another look at the new kid on the block. I went up and down each row, careful to only glance up at the new guy occasionally. The closer I got to his row, the harder my heart seemed to beat until I was sure it was going to explode.
When I got to the last row of students, his row, I glanced up at him and our eyes locked.
He smiled and I smiled and it was one of those moments where you knew there was potential there.
Potential for magic.
“Peyton Holmes?” Mrs. Tupper called out.
“Present,” the new guy answered with a smile that made my knees go weak in an entirely clichéd manner. I just sort of froze in place.
Peyton Holmes.
I liked it.
“Miss Andrews, are you going to stand there all hour? Or can we begin?” Mrs. Tupper asked and the whole class chuckled.
“Oh, um, sorry,” I stuttered, finally regaining control over myself. Fortunately, I managed to not fall down on my way back to my own desk. But as soon as I sat down, I couldn’t help but glance back up at him. He caught me staring and winked at me. I quickly turned my gaze toward Mrs. Tupper who was now going over the syllabus. I could feel the heat in my cheeks and sincerely hoped that no one noticed.
I wasn’t usually affected by guys like this. Sure I was a huge flirt—I freely admitted as much—but it was usually all fun and games. Once I got a guy to ask me out, I was usually over it quickly and moved on to the next guy. But this was different somehow, and just like that I knew I had found my next conquest. I knew that I wanted him and I had no reason to doubt that I would fail—after all, Cami Andrews never failed.
Not to sound conceited or anything, because, let's be real here, I’m not the prettiest girl in school. I'm not saying that expecting you to disagree with me and shower me with compliments. I’m not unattractive by any means—I'm just not the kind of girl that gets by on her looks alone.
What I have going for me is something else entirely—you see, I'm charming.
It started in fifth grade when my grandpa gave me a copy of Gone With the Wind,and ever since then I've wanted to be Scarlett O'Hara.
Well, Scarlett minus the whole corset and slave owning business thing, anyway.
It wasn't hard to see why I identified with her so easily—with my dark curly hair and bright green eyes, I literally saw myself as her. And that picnic scene when all the southern gentleman are surrounding her like a flock of sheep? Can you say, hashtag lifegoals?
So it became somewhat of a hobby of mine to try—and succeed—attracting any male within a five-mile radius. Even the taken ones.
And let me tell you something, I was good.
I know what you must be thinking: what a slut! But trust me, I am not nor have I ever been a slut.
A flirt? Naturally.
A tease? Of course.
But a slut? Never.
I played the game well, but once I won, I usually grew bored rather quickly and discarded the poor boy to move on to the next challenge before anything more than a little making out could occur.
I had three basic steps in getting a guy to fall in love with me and I had mastered them by the eighth grade.
Step one: Get him to notice you.
This was probably the trickiest part of the whole process. In a school this size there were plenty of other girls much better looking than me for him to choose from. In fact, most of them would, undoubtedly, be all over Peyton like a bunch of vultures by the end of the day, but I wasn't worried. It wouldn't be long before I had him wrapped around my finger. I just had to put myself in his path often enough that he would have to notice me.
I was the office aide during third period so it should be easy enough to get my hands on Peyton's class schedule. That might have sounded a little stalkerish, but I promise, I'm not creepy. I preferred to think of myself as resourceful. Once I had his schedule memorized, it’s just a matter of mapping out my route accordingly so that our paths crossed as much as possible throughout the day.
The key was to get him to recognize my face enough to acknowledge me in some way whenever he saw me without me actually having to introduce myself to him first. Whether that be the nonverbal head nod or an actual hello, it didn't really matter. We'd work up to full-fledged conversations before the end of the month.
Step two: Find excuses to ask for his help.
That sounds a little cliché right? Except, clichés are clichés for a reason and the whole Damsel in Distress scenario is super appealing to the male ego. It’s, like, instinct or something. He WANTS to swoop in and save you even if it’s something as simple as letting you copy his notes from Biology or picking up all the textbooks you just conveniently accidentally dropped right in front of him.
Oops! I guess I shouldn’t try to carry so many at once.
Step three: Learn his favorite things and hobbies and then pretend to like those things too.
Oh, you like Thai food?Me too... (Gag!)
But seriously, I could choke down some noodles if it meant enjoying a dinner with the boy I had set my sights on.
Oh, you gorock climbing on the weekends? It doesn’t look that hard. (Bruises and blisters for weeks).
Water skiing at the lake? I’m totally in.(I’ll just be working on my tan over here. Where it’s dry).
And so on and so on.
If a guy thinks you are interested in all the same things that he is, he pretty much decides you’re his soulmate and falls pretty quickly after that.
They are predictable like that.
I never had trouble getting a guy to fall in love with me. No, where I struggled was getting myself to fall in love with the guy. I just hadn’t met anyone who was capable of holding my attention for longer than a month, two tops.
The thing is, once they fell in love with me, I was done.
Bored.
Mildly uncomfortable by their attention.
Maybe it was the fact that he was fresh blood or maybe it was simply because I had pretty much exhausted all other resources, but whatever it was, something about Peyton Holmes intrigued me and I knew as soon as I saw him, that I wanted him to be my new Mr. Right Now.
Let the games begin.