Agreements With Mr Rich Boy | ✓

12 | Headlines

THE HALL SEEMED even more spectacular than before, if that was even possible. I could feel myself holding my breath as my gaze settled upon the polished and refined furnishings around the room, and the immaculate white table cloths— each large enough to cover the entirety of the four tables. Every one and everything basked in the orange glow emanating from the chandeliers above us.

Miles and I sat where we had before, and awaited as everyone else settled and began to talk between each other. Despite having been here several days, and having been around these people on more than one occasion, I could feel people actively attempting to pretend we weren't there... like we were nothing. To say it didn't hurt that they'd constructed an opinion of us both on only our social standings and without knowing either of our names, would be a blatant lie. I refused to start something or dampen Miles's excitement, though, so clamped my lips together and listened to what he was saying.

"How's Harry?" I asked. "Is he still bothering you?"

It hadn't escaped my notice that the blonde boy had been taunting Miles whenever he saw him, whether it was discrete hand gestures or bumping into him a little too harshly on the stairs.

He reddened in humiliation, but waved it off. "Nah," he chuckled. "He's nothing. You should have seen the guys in my old school; they couldn't get enough of me and how 'soft' I was. Harry's nothing, absolutely nothing. In fact." I leant in as he lowered his voice. "The headlines that have been coming out recently just show I don't need to let him get to me."

"Headlines?" I asked, cluelessly.

Once again, I was completely oblivious to what was happening. I made a promise to myself that I would be more involved, even if some of the 'news' about a celebrity couple was mind numbingly ridiculous.

"Jolie, honestly," he sighed. "Pick up a newspaper or some shit. Or better yet, just look on Twitter."

"I have the oldest phone ever. It does calls and still has a keypad. I'm not going to be able to casually browse through Twitter anytime soon."

"Okay, Ill just be your source of the latest gossip. I'm a lot prettier than Twitter, anyway." I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, so there was this video, right, and it's basically a sex tape of Harry's dad and his secretary doing it on his desk."

"The guy who owns all the wifi pylons?"

"Yes, see you do know some stuff." I playfully hit his shoulder. "Nan thinks it was the girl, you know to get fame or whatever, but she's locked herself into her flat for the past two weeks."

"So what's your theory then?"

"He's a powerful man. And you know every powerful man had to have stepped on a few toes to get where they are. He obviously had enemies."

"What are you suggesting... revenge or blackmail?"

"Or as good as—"

The dark haired, dark skinned woman I recognised as our headmistress, Ms Kingsley, commanded the attention of us all without saying a word. Everyone just seemed to unanimously settle and direct their full attention to her.

"Welcome, students," she said in quite husky voice, like someone who had probably smoked cigarettes for a decade or so. It wasn't visible anywhere else on her, though, what with her perfectly white teeth and clear complexion. "I hope you have settled in well. I'd like to apologise for not being here to greet you myself, but I had... business to attend to.