kisses

°4°

"Is that how you approach everything?" She lifts her head, mossy green eyes meeting mine.

Don't think I've ever sat this close to Shehnaaz in the over three years we've gone to school together, and I'm taken aback at how gorgeous
those eyes are. "No sweat. Don't worry about it?"

"Yes," I say without hesitation. "Have a problem with that?"

"That's not how I operate. I work hard to get good grades and maintain my 5.0 grade average." She dropped that little tidbit on purpose. A total flex for the virgin, big deal.

"We have something in common," I tell her, making her frown.

"What?"

"I have a 5.0 grade average too." We've both been in advanced classes since freshman year.

The look of disbelief crossing her face is undeniable. "Really?"

"Don't sound so skeptical. It's true." I shrug.

"I never see you study."

"We don't exactly hang in the same areas. I never see you study either."

Shehnaaz says nothing to that because it's true. We definitely don't hang with the same crowd in the same places.

"I'm sure the only reason you get good grades is because of your last name," she retorts.

Whoa. Little Miss Virgin has some bite.

"You think I have a 5.0 grade average because I'm a Shukla? And I go to Shukla Prep?" I raise a brow when she dares to look at me.
She drops her gaze, her head bent.

"Maybe."

"I'm offended." Her head lifts, her expression now full of remorse. "I'm not an idiot, little birdy."

"Little birdy?"

"Your name is a bird." My nickname isn't that original, but that's what she reminds me of sometimes. A sweet little bird, flitting from branch to branch. Chirping at everyone, the sound light and melodic.

"And your name is a sport. Shall I call you that? What's up, old sport?" She rolls her eyes.

Huh.

She also has a bit of a sense of humor. I didn't think that was possible.

She's always marching around campus, advocating for her causes. The plight of young rich women, which is totally uninteresting, if you ask me. I don't care about a bunch of virginal freshmen girls. Not like she does.

"You can call me whatever you want," I drawl. "Asshole. Fuckhead. Whatever. It doesn't matter to me."

There's no hesitation in her reaction. She's glaring at me, those narrowed green eyes shooting sparks in my direction. "You're revolting."

"Oh, my bad. I forgot you don't say such foul language."

"Things can be said without having to sprinkle dirty words throughout. They're completely unnecessary."

Her prim voice saying the word dirty is a complete turn-on. Meaning something is really fucking wrong with me.

"Sometimes the word fuck is really satisfying to say." I pause, already knowing the answer to the question I'm about to ask. "Have you ever said it before?"

She quickly shakes her head. "No. It's the worst word of them all, if you ask
me."

"I don't know about that. I can think of some even more vulgar words to say." They're all on the tip of my tongue too, but I restrain myself.