Chapter 17 #2
Her face falls and her hand lifts to her mouth to cover it. Then she rubs her index finger across her teeth as her cheeks heat.
I snort to myself as I make my way over to my seat next to Corden. It was childish. But I never claimed otherwise.
“What’s so funny?” He asks while I unpack my things.
“Nothing,” I manage to get out before I freeze.
Asher walks into the hall and on his cheek is a bright red lipstick mark. My satisfaction is drenched in jealousy again.
Touché bitch. Touché.
***
I am trying to concentrate.
I really am.
Yet all I can feel is Asher’s presence behind me as my hand taps away on my leg.
I want to turn around and ask him why he would take Darcy to the fund raiser next week after the kiss we shared, but then I realise how ridiculous that is considering we were drunk, we are pretty much strangers and more importantly, we are both lying to each other.
I can see the rain pelting the windows from outside as the cold wind whips through the trees, but I am burning up. I can feel the sweat sticking my hair to the back of my neck and the flush rising from my chest to my cheeks.
I pull my hair up and start piling it into a ponytail. I hold it with one hand as I reach into my bag and search for a hair tie. I am fumbling around to no avail before a black bobble is held in front of my face from behind.
“Here,” His voice is gruff, and it sends a shiver down my spine at how close it is.
I turn and wrinkle my nose in disgust.
“No thanks,”
He chuckles. “Why, you need one don’t you?”
“Not one that has any essence of Darcy on it thank you very much,” I snap.
His face drops. “It’s not Darcy’s,”
I snort. “Sure,”
“It’s not,”
I stare at him.
“Just take the damn bobble Rue,” He snaps back.
Rue. He called me Rue.
Not Ruella, not little Vixen and not dirty money.
It feels better than it should.
I snatch the tie from his fingers and make quick work of wrapping it around. I try my best to go back to ignoring him while I burn hotter and hotter.
It turns out impossible when I feel him wrap his feet around my chair legs and drag them closer to his row behind me, his position slightly higher, giving him a dominance I enjoy.
I suck in a breath when I feel his hands around my ponytail as he half’s it and pulls, making the tie squeeze tighter to my scalp.
“Do I make you nervous?” He whispers in my ear so only I can here.
“Not at all,”
“Then why can’t you stop that hand from tapping your thigh?” He smugly asks.
I freeze before I pull my hand away from where it was, in fact, tapping away.
“Sorry,”
He pulls back and frowns. “Why would you be sorry?”
I clear my throat at the conditioned response I have from so many years of slaps for doing that same action.
“I know it’s annoying,”
“I don’t find it annoying. It shows me the real you beneath all that tough outer shell you try to bullshit everyone with,”
I turn my head to inspect him, yet this time he isn’t being playful. It’s the same genuine boy who sat with me in the billiard room. The one who laughed and danced around to make me feel better. The one who listened and opened himself up. To me. Not Darcy. Me.
The moment is shattered.
“Miss Griffiths,” Mr. Chapman shouts from the front of the hall as Asher leans back into his row.
“I need to speak with you after class,”
Crap. I nod as he goes back to explaining something I have no clue about because once again I was distracted by Asher. I berate myself as the bell signals the end of the day and everyone starts to pack away their things.
It’s Friday, so that means everyone clears out in less than five minutes so they can get their assignments done, then showered and ready for whatever house party is behind held.
As I make my way down the steps to towards the desk, Corden shouts his goodbyes and that he will text me later.
Asher is the last to leave after throwing a last glance my way before giving our teacher a death stare.
Every time those two are together I think Mr. Chapman is going to say something, but with Asher’s family name, I am guessing he can do and say pretty much anything to a staff member, and they just have to get on with it.
Mr. Chapman clears his throat, then starts to take off his tie as he sits down. After undoing a couple of his shirt buttons, I look away and choose to focus on his ugly gold Rolex watch. Much too expensive on a university lecturer, but this isn’t a normal academy. It’s Marrowton.
“So, Miss Griffith,” He drags back my attention as he pulls a paper from his top drawer. I recognise it immediately.
It’s the one I handed in at the beginning of the week.
Shit.
“I am sorry to say this, but this work isn’t good enough,”
The grip on my bag increases.
“I don’t think you have fully understood the assignment, but instead of coming and asking, you handed in a load of waffle,”
I feel my cheeks redden again but this time it is for a completely different reason.
“I’m sorry sir,”
His face softens slightly. “Listen, I can’t help you if you don’t ask questions or tell me when you need a little extra help. And I especially don’t think it is in your best interest to be chatting with Mr. Vander when your grade in this class is sitting way below average,”
I nod.
“You need this class to graduate, Mr. Vander does not,” He gives me a knowing look.
“I understand Mr. Chapman,”
“Now, I know that you are a little behind due to your gaps in study where you took online courses, so I will make you a deal,”
I freeze. I have heard some gossip about him, gossip that have his words filling me with dread.
He chuckles. “Calm down Miss Griffith. Not that kind of deal,” He smirks and his professionalism slips again as he shows me the side he obviously uses to get his students to take their knickers off.
He stands and straightens his shirt before coming to the front of his desk.
“I don’t have to submit this assignments grades for another week, I want you to re write the paper and hand it in by no later than next Wednesday,”
“I can do that. I promise it will be done and to a better standard,” I feel some of the shame lift.
“I certainly hope so because as you know, if your grades slip, you are out,”
“Trust me sir, that I know,”
“Okay, off you go,”
I turn and make it to the door before he speaks again.
“And Ruella, you can’t mention this to anyone. I am not supposed to give you a second chance,” His lips lift to the side. “It has to be our little secret,”
My heart stops.
My stomach drops.
Then a buzzing in my ears.
Those words.
The words that haunt my dreams and take me to a place I never want to be ever again.
I nod quickly as I feel the panic set in.
I turn and run down the hall towards the girls’ bathrooms as my lungs start to close.
I can’t breathe.
I burst through the doors, and I don’t even make it to a stall before I start to hyperventilate as my knees hit the tiled floor. My vision starts to go blurry, and I feel the tears free flow down my cheeks as I try to suck in breaths.
Our little secret
Our little secret
Our little secret
Our little secret