My phone buzzes in my pocket and assuming Colby just arrived at school and realized I’m not there, I promptly ignore it and ask the first person who doesn’t snub me where the hell I need to go.
It takes way too long to find the student office, but after meeting Principal Dormer and trying not to roll my eyes at the huffy office assistant, I’m free to find my locker and get sorted out for the morning.
Students linger in the hallway and the smell of coffee assaults my senses. My stomach growls. I haven’t had a chance to eat my fruit salad or yogurt, and I could really use a coffee, but I have no idea where all these students are getting it from. There seems to be one in every set of hands.
Bodies pack the hallway, and it’s almost impossible to figure out where the hell I’m going. Groups of guys laugh and whistle at the girls that pass by in their short uniform skirts, and their giggles only fuel the shameless flirting. Conversations and gossip drift down the hall, all about summer flings and who had the most extravagant vacation.
Some people keep their heads down, keeping to themselves, while others draw attention as though holding a sign reading, I give good head. The pecking order of this school is crystal clear. If you’re a jock, a cheerleader, the richest of the rich, or simply just blessed with undeniable beauty, then your opinion matters and people want to be around you. Anyone else is just a punching bag for the elite assholes.
Finding my locker, all too close to Mr. WankInFrontOfMyBedroomWindow who’s surrounded by a bunch of guys that look just as intimidating as he does, I figure out the lock and get busy jamming my things inside. I don’t have time to do all that girly decorating shit to my locker, and honestly, I don’t think I’ll be here long enough to even bother.
I don’t waste any more time grabbing my class schedule and flipping through the student handbook to find the map of the school, having only just enough time to figure out how to get to my first few classes before the bell for homeroom sounds. I grab what I need and make a move for it, knowing that today is going to be nothing but fresh hell topped with a splash of complete and utter bullshit.
Closing my locker, I take off down the hallway, following the map held tightly between my fingers. I only get a few steps before a large body steps in front of me, blocking my path. My head snaps up and I have only a second to stop myself before slamming headfirst into his wide chest.
Just when I thought I could get away with a peaceful morning. I should have known better.
King Jock stands before me, his lingering gaze locked on my face as his friends move in beside him, looking over me like a new toy they’re figuring out who gets to play with first. “Well, if it isn’t the little Killjoy from Saturday night.”
Unease settles heavily into the pit of my stomach, and I clench my jaw, doing what little I can to appear as though I’m not about to shit myself. “Is there something you need?”
Big guy smirks back at me, his dark eyes dancing with amusement. “Just wanted to give you the big Bradford welcome,” he says, moving in closer, his gaze getting darker and hotter all at the same time. He stands over me, the smell of his cologne wrapping around me and holding me hostage. His words are kind, but there’s a clear threat in his tone, reminding me that I’m nothing but the girl who threw down a challenge that I’m in no way, shape, or form prepared for. He takes a step closer, forcing me to back up, and I don’t miss how a crowd has begun to form around us, phones out recording every minute of my humiliation.
Not wanting to be an easy target, or someone he’ll freely be able to walk over, I stop backing up and hold my ground. “That’s so kind of you, but if you don’t stop intruding on my personal space, I’ll have no choice but to shove my foot so far up your ass that you feel it in your throat.”
He just stares at me, his gaze getting harder by the second. “You wanna talk personal space, Killjoy?” he questions, his eyes lighting once again. “Why don’t we talk about your little Peeping Tom routine. Looking into my room like that, you should be ashamed.”
My face flames as embarrassment takes over, but there’s no way he’s about to drop a bomb like that without a little bit of context for the masses of students swarming around us. “Ashamed? Not at all. I think embarrassed is the right word, embarrassed for you, that is. Though it’s okay, I’m sure you were only half-hard, right?” I reach up and give a pitying pat against his wide chest, hating how the touch of his warmth beneath my palm sends a bolt of electricity pulsing through my body. “It’s fine, not everyone can have a monster cock. The small guys have to get love too. But hey, if you want to fuck your own palm in the privacy of your bedroom, then that’s your business. Self-love and all that, it’s healthy, right? But I just ask that next time you get hard staring at me like a dirty perv, perhaps close your blinds before you start rubbing one out, okay? I mean, I appreciate your attempt to entertain me, but I wasn’t all that impressed.”