A Piece of Heaven (Allendale Four 1)

Monday started with a burst of Fakestagram notifications followed by a flurry of new photos. This time they had a theme. Heaven dresses like a tramp.

The first photo had Ben and me by my locker, talking, and it would have looked normal except for my impressive cleavage, accentuated by the angle of the camera. Across the bottom was the hashtag, #desperate and #tramp.

More followed; close-ups of my legs, my ass, my lips.

The intimacy gave me the chills, but it didn’t make me back off my resolve. This attitude was their problem, not mine, and I wouldn’t let them push me into hiding.

Not again.

I could admit it. Even though I’d moved past the need to prove something to the school, I liked this new look. I liked the way my boys’ eyes lit up when I walked down the hall. They liked me with puke in my hair or hungover at a soccer game wrapped in a heavy coat. They definitely approved when I was dressed to the nines.

Poor Ben though, his eyes were glued to the swell of my breasts like a deer in headlights. These things were getting me into all kinds of trouble.

It was old news between me and Amber but that didn’t stop her from giving me the stink eye on my way into school, or Jennifer from calling me names in the hall. I could tell Jackson was getting pissed but I told him to roll with it. I did. I had bigger issues to deal with than jealous girls—the online bullying. It scared me. He threw a stiff arm around my shoulder and a possessive glare set in his eyes. It was enough to make people keep their distance.

“Who do you think is taking and posting these pictures?” he asked, steering me toward class.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. It could be anyone around here. I’m not really sure what the point is. It’s not like I’m hiding anything.”

In Chemistry, seeing Anderson for the first time since the party prompted me to slide a piece of paper across our work table to him.

He held the paper between two very pretty fingers without opening it. “What’s this?”

“Just read it.”

“Why?”

“Oh my god. Just. Read. It.” He didn’t look convinced. Maybe he thought there was puke on it. I ground my teeth and said, “Please."

He opened it and laid it flat on the table. I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my arms.

Dear Anderson,

I apologize for puking on your shoes.

And your car.

And anywhere else you may have had the unfortunate opportunity to see.

Heaven

I heard the crinkle of the paper as he refolded it and waited, scared to look up.

“Reeves.”

“What?” My words were muffled because I was still face down on the table.

“I accept your apology.”

I opened an eye and looked at him. His expression was clear. He even had a bit of a smile on his pretty little mouth. “Really?”

“Yes.”

I sighed in relief. “Good.”

He seemed awfully amused by my humiliation, but I let it slide due to the circumstances.

“I’m sorry you got so sick.”