"The door creaked open...
...and in, came the living hell..."
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A/N ; I'd prepared this chapter over the weekend and I'd hoped to post it on Monday because I won't be updating this entire week. Courtesy of my education and ongoing exams.
But wattpad and I have been acting bitchy to each other lately, and we haven't gotten along because of some minor 'technical problems'.
I somehow failed to upload this chapter for the past two days and I have been struggling to do all I can to bring this kinda-a-little-extra-long chapter to you guys. I hope you like it. ;)
I mean I went over this part like five times and tried to correct all the shit in it but I was sleepy each time and there might be a couple mistakes. But HEY! You'll definitely love my crap!
Lol. Bye!
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Third person's POV
The thoughts that'd been plaguing and drowning his mind for the past week ; kisses, breasts, touches, suddenly came to an abrupt stop as he caught the fair brown locks of a certain someone disappear behind the next corner.
He paused and immediately dashed onward, a clench in his chest. Rounding the same corner, his shoulder bumped on those of a few people, hitting them and scattering the books in their arms onto the floor. He quickly apologized of his actions but didn't linger to help them, instead keeping his eyes ahead where the same person he was after took another turn.
"Excuse me." He said, dodging the ignorant members of the football team who remained in his way even when he tried to part between them.
Rushing even more than he had, he scuttled across the school halls, bursting out of the school's sports team members that were making their way to the field and managing to get to who he'd located moments ago.
"Clara!" Kent yelled at her retreating frame.
She spun to regard him, her face holding no emotion. Kent came to a halt before her, gripping the two files he held in one hand and pulling the straps of his bag higher with the other. She watched him with feigned nonchalance.
"Hey." He greeted.
She scowled and turned away stubbornly, opening her locker. "What do you want, Ken?"
"I just want to talk to you." He replied, frowning at the bitter tone with which she spoke. "We haven't spoke for over two weeks--"
"Three weeks." She corrects with a sneer.
He blinks at the disdaining look she concerns him with, flinching away a little. "Right. Three weeks--"
"Exactly. Don't you remember or have you been too busy with Ivy to even care."
He watches her shove a book into her locker, the name of the grave girl coming out of her mouth as though she were about to puke with disgust, revulsion and hate. In her mouth, the name was like poison, she made it sound like the worst thing on earth. And for some reason, he finds his brows falling down in disapproval of that.
"I didn't mean to--"
She thrusts another book harshly into her locker, her face scrunched up angrily. "You didn't mean to! What is that supposed to mean?!"
"I didn't think she'd put me up for her personal tutor, Clara." He explains before she could interject again. "What did you expect me to do? I couldn't just tell her that I wouldn't tutor her because..."
YOU ARE READING
Ivy Bathory
Romance▪▪▪ I trace my index finger along his jaw, feeling the smooth softness of the sharp line. He shivers at the touch, trying to dissolve himself into the bookshelf at his back "The first time we met, you didn't seem to like me." I said painfully slow...
