I'm completely drenched with rain, head to toe.
My hair is soaking wet and clings to my forehead unattractively as I run under some shelter. I squint my eyes and look around to take advantage of someone with an umbrella. No luck. I sigh and mentally prepare myself to make a sprint for the college doors.
Three. . . Two. . . One.
I run as fast as I psychically can, internally crying as my converse slaps against the wet floor. Pain immediately flares up my side from the simple movement and I wince as I make it to the doors. The pain is much more frequent now and I don't know whether my body can handle this beating. I close my eyes, leaning against the wall for a moment as I struggle to brave the pain.
Moments pass and I inhale deeply before entering. I ignore the amused look from my classmates and head straight for the bathroom.
I let out a groan as I come face to face with my appearance, my hair is a frizzy mess and mascara runs down my cheeks. As for my clothes. . . They stick to me uncomfortably, the material heavy with rain.
The door is pushed open and Ivory walks in, one of my classmates. She takes one look at me and burst into fits of laughter. I scowl and pout at her, signalling for her to pass me some paper towels.
"Do you need some help Emily?" She giggles, handing me a wad of paper towels. I raise my brows —
"Is it that obvious?" I respond, humour lining my voice. Ivory laughs again, her auburn hair flying around her face. Her laugh is infectious and soon enough, I'm laughing alongside her. My body begins to shiver from the cold rain and Ivory smiles at me, shaking her head.
"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute."
I watch her leave and take the opportunity to dry my hair under the hand dryer. It's the closest thing I have to a real hairdryer but did little to tame my mass of hair. I groan again, running my fingers through it as I attempt to make it look more presentable. The door is pushed open again and Ivory re-appears, holding a pile of clothes. She throws them in my direction, giving me a sympathetic look.
"These are the only dry clothes I could find."
"Thank you, you're a lifesaver." I smile at her gratefully, heading into an empty stall to change.
"You're welcome Em, see you in class!" She yells over the cubicle door and I hear her leave, allowing me to get changed in peace.
I hold up the clothes, frowning as I realise they belong to a guy. The hoody is ten times too big and when I pull it on, a familiar scent of cologne mixed with the slightest hint of smoke wraps around me. Jake's smug face immediately flashes through my mind. I groan quietly.
Of course the clothes belong to Jake Melvin.
I step out of my jeans, grimacing as they stick to my legs and pull over Jake's shorts. It's a good job I shaved recently.
I tie the waistband tighter because the minute I let go, they fall round my ankles comically. I look down at myself and let out a deep breath.
"I look a mess," I mutter unhappily, bending down to retrieve my wet clothes from the floor. I place them over the heaters in an attempt to dry them. Next I have to tackle my face.
I decide to remove all my makeup as it's already ruined, streaking down my cheeks. A bruise that hasn't faded yet underneath my eye stares back at me. It's definitely noticable but to me I can see it stick out like a sore thumb. I sigh and rummage through my bag looking for anything to cover it up.
Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Taking a deep breath to calm myself down, I glance at the bruise again. I'd hide behind my hair and If anyone asked, I'd say I hit myself in the face with something. I open the door and stepped out into a silent, deserted lobby.
YOU ARE READING
His MissionTeen Fiction
Formally known as The Bad Boys Mission [Highest Ranking - #1 In Teen Fiction] Meet Emily Wentworth. Since the death of her father, she's been living a home life full of abuse. It's remained a secret for years until she meets the town's rebel, Jake M...