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“Nope. But I might’ve messed around a bit.” Her knowing smile tells me she definitely messed around.
“With who?”
“I can’t tell.” She practically starts to run away from me. “See ya after school!”
I watch her go, letting my curiosity get the best of me about everything. Who did Iris hook up with and why wouldn’t she reveal his name? She’s being so secretive and it’s a little shocking, considering we normally tell each other everything.
Not that I’ve said much to her either since I’ve come home. I just haven’t gotten the chance yet, though I don’t have a lot to tell.
Ugh. I’m boring. Just like Alana said.
As I make my way across campus, I can’t stop thinking about Rhett Bennett’s playboy reputation and how many girls he might’ve possibly hooked up with. The way he flirted with me. Calling me Willy. Hated that. Telling me I’m fucking beautiful—didn’t hate that part one bit. But who does that? Is he just saying that sort of thing to get in my panties or does he actually believe it?
I rush into the building and head straight for the girls’ bathroom, relieved to find it empty when I enter. I stare at my reflection in the old, slightly foggy mirror, trying to see myself through Rhett’s eyes.
All I see is the same old me. I have a few stray tendrils flying around my head and I turn on the faucet, wetting my fingers before I smooth them back into submission. My lipstick is long gone, faded to a faint red that doesn’t look great, and once I’ve turned off the faucet, I’m rustling through the front pocket of my backpack. Finding what I’m looking for, I open the Chanel lipstick my mom gave me for my birthday and slick it on my lips, rubbing them together when I’m done.
There. Much better.
I’m okay. I know I’m not a hideous troll, and sometimes, when I put a lot of thought and attention into my outfit, I can look pretty. Fashionable even. When I was in Italy, I was photographed a few times, especially when I went to the Milan fashion shows with my mother. Some of the headlines declared me the next “it” girl.
Whatever that means.
It’s like I returned to Lancaster Prep and I became lazy again. We don’t need to put much effort into anything since we wear the same uniforms day in and day out. I don’t feel like I’m anything special here. I’m definitely not an “it” girl. Being stuck at a boarding school with everyone else wearing the same thing humbles you real quick.
By the time I leave the bathroom, the corridor is filled with students heading to their next class and I grab my schedule out of my backpack, checking for my room number. I push my way through the crowd, slipping into the classroom at the last second, right as the bell rings and the teacher strides in directly behind me, slamming the door.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I fall into the closest available desk, dropping my backpack at my feet. I bend over to unzip the top and pull a notebook out when I hear that same familiar voice whisper my name.
“Will.”
And when I look up, my gaze locks with Rhett’s. He’s sitting right next to me.
Great.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rhett
Fuck me running, how did she do that? She actually looks even better than she did only a few minutes ago when we were talking. Flirting.
Whatever you want to call it.
She’s extra hot with the red lips and the slicked back dark hair. That damn ponytail swinging, tempting me to grab hold of it and wrap those silky strands around my fist. It’s so long, I bet it would wrap around twice …
“You’re taking this class?” she asks, her voice breathless. Her brows are drawn together and she’s frowning slightly. Like maybe she’s not thrilled at the idea of me being in another class with her.
“Definitely.” I lean back in my seat, blatantly checking her out. The skirt is a little short, showing off her slender thighs and smooth knees. She has pretty legs. I’ve always been more of an ass man, but I’ll convert for Willow Lancaster.
“Photography and film making?” Now her brows are shooting up in question.
“Thought it would be an easy A.” I shrug. May as well be truthful with her. “Is that why you’re taking it?”
“Noooo.” She draws the word out, shaking her head. “It fits right in with what I want to do in college.”
“And what do you want to do in college?”
“I want to major in art history.”
