Reese Peyton embodies the ideal high-achiever, between being captain of her Badminton team and running for school president while also securing her Ivy League admission, there is no time for destructions. But when Kris Jones, a new girl with her tro...
"You could say that," she says, then inhales softly.
"I see," is all I say before we both fall silent.
I'm not staring anymore, I think I have had enough of her. She is tall and, curvy; no doubt, and the stilettos she has on gives her at least a foot close but I'm taller.
Her body is covered in a piece of black satin material that barely covers her ass and the sides are split only to be joined by shiny strips of a thousand glitters. Then a pink sash with; PRINCESS printed on it crosses the middle of her breast.
"That's going to burn you," she says. I lift my eyes from her breast to her face.
"Huh?"
She doesn't speak, only drops her eyes to my hand and I follow the gesture. I'm shamelessly holding a dying rolled-up piece of paper that's gotten too close to my skin.
"Oh, this. . ." I wave it in the air.
A ray of embarrassment washes over me. I don't know this girl but I feel it's not very attractive of me to be smoking in front of her. I don't give a shit what people think of me but, this time, I think I care.
"Want some?"
Very stupid.
Her lips crack into a smile, a tiny smile, and shakes her head.
"Okay..." I lift my other hand which holds a blue plastic party cup. "How about this?"
"No, thank you. I don't do any of that," she says, I don't miss the disgust in her tone which makes me feel even more out of place.
"Well you don't drink, you don't smoke, what are you doing at a teenage party? Hooking up?" I ask, in a desperate attempt to feel good about myself.
It's impossible to be alcohol or weed-free here. So why is she here dressed in black yet seeming as pure as snow and guilt-tripping me?
"Well, I'd leave but there's a little complication," she hums, hands gripping the gold rail encircling the terrace.
"Enlighten me," I say, spreading my arms to carelessly trash the last piece of my joint on the posh floors and step on it.
Curtis mentioned they hired a cleaner too.
"You could burn the entire building y'know?" She notes, casually.
"Who cares?" I grumble. I know I don't give a fuck about this building and neither does any teenager inside that room. If they cared so much they wouldn't have hosted this at all.
"Typical teenager," she says with a stench of disgust like before.
I scoff but I let it slide.
It's quite annoying how she carries herself with such adultness.
"Whatever, hey, you wanna get out of here for a while?" I go ahead and ruin all my chances. I know she will say no and truly that's all I want, I want to get rid of her so badly.
"I would, but. . .” She lifts the sash. “This is my birthday party, it's rude to leave.”
"You live here?" I try to hide my bewilderment, but I guess it's shining right through my eyes.
"Dah." She rolls her eyes, shrugs, and in a very cheeky way bounces off without even saying, 'bye'.
I don't think I need more reasons to hate rich people.
_______________________________________ * * * Note; I do not own any rights to the content below. Also, these are my character muses, if you want to imagine them any other way, you're free to do that!!!
CHARACTERS (MCs)
Kris Jones
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Reese Peyton
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