Muhaha! This is Shadeslayer94, who has 'hacked' into Artsie's account! Okay, for all those waiting for the next chapter, you all had better thank me cause I'm the one who pushed her into writing. Now the chapter.
Chapter 5
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I'm lying flat on my back in a red silky night dress on my king sized bed, strewn with pillow after pillow. My soft sheets make me feel like I'm being melted unto a marshmallow, much like chocolate on a smore. I stare up at the ceiling as the $15,000 gold with diamond encrusted chandelier flings light in all directions.
I am so wasting my time.
I leap out of the bed and shake my hair into place and with my graceful strut I love so much, I make my way towards my customized closet. What appears to be the right wall to my room, draped in a full length poster of Heath Ledger kissing me, is what in fact, my closet. I smirk and press my hand unto the slate of glass, that just so happens to preserve my letter of apology from a couple of 9th graders that I brought to tears a while back.
Long story short, they messed with moi and paid the price.
Bitch style, my specialty.
I smirked at the memory, as the mini computer behind the slate analyzed my fingerprints, and my thoughts drifted to the Professor.
I mean Logan.
My blood red lips split to show off a grin complete with a set of white, pristine teeth. With Angelina Jolie's voice automated, it spoke: "Welcome to anyone's paradise, Miss Amber," the wall splits into two. Now to use my time productively and pick an outfit for the 'study session'. I let out a cold laugh.
Anyone who knows me, knows.
Amber + Sexy guy = Winding up in bed
Logan, Logan, Logan.
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I'm in my candy apple red Ferrari, stuck in traffic and bored out of my mind. I lazily lean my head back to catch some rays. After some time, beads of sweat start to inch down my face, causing my classy black gold trimmed, Prada sunnies to slide down my nose. I stare straight ahead once more and slowly ease my foot on the gas pedal. The sweat, as quickly as it came, dries up, leaving me sweat free, just the way I like it. Sunbathing, in my book, is a form of exercise. Look at it by my angle and you'll see why I think it should be an Olympic sport. If you produce sweat, it's all good. Screw them 30 minute walk a day regulations.
I pop in Brittany's latest CD and recline my leather seat a little bit back. Because, hello, I'll be stuck here for a heck of a long time.
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Finally, finally, finally.
Just one more door away till this so called session kicks into high gear. I pass by a window and quickly allow my eyes to skim over my outfit to detect any flaws before the Professor, I mean Logan, does. I silently approve. I've got the school girl/Prom Queen look on lockdown. My crisp white blouse paired with DKNY pure denim skinny jeans and perfectly out, snug in all the right places. My red stilettos with its ruby covered straps bring out the sexy in my rather modest attire. A big Aldo bag matches my heels in color as well as in chic. A red silk scarf is tied loosely around my neck with my chained golden locket complementing the red. My face is lightly made up with a dash of mascara, a simple stroke of eyeliner and a swipe of my customary blood red lipstick. My hair is tied in an elegant bun with a string of pearls put in place around the circle. With my back straight and my head held high, I push open the doors to the lecture hall.
May the games commence.
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Logan looks up from his pile of papers and a surprised look comes to his face. His eyes do complete 360's in his eyeballs and with a halt end up back in their original position. Quickly, he recollects his thoughts and with that melodious voice oh his that I love so much, he says:
"Miss Amber, there you are. I'm afraid we're going to have to cancel this session and reschedule another one. But then again, because it's unfair, I've asked one of my previous students, who's now a sophomore and who aced my class with a 99.5%, to help you."
He gives me a i'm-so-sorry-but-there-is-a-next-time smile and turns his head towards the left wing doors. He raises his hand to his mouth and shouts, "Korin, Miss Amber s here!"
I think I've just had a heart attack.
Logan smiles reassuringly at this Korin person who awkwardly shuffles over to where I' standing, next to the table where instead of a study session a make out session was supposed to be taking place by now.
He's donned in a baggy, faded, holey blue jeans matched with a Metallica T-shirt. Century old converse covered his feet and perfectly square, heavily rimmed glasses are perched unto his pale straight nose. Jet black eyes stare at me, calculating and rapidly judging me, based on his assumptions. A head of very messy, very black hair stick out in all directions. His hair reminds me of the mop that Maria, my Ecuadorean house maid loves so much. Except that pure white streak in his black hair, so like the white of his skin draws attention, I'm sure this 99.5% guy doesn't want.
He sticks out a hand and with a deep yet quiet voice says, "I'm Korin Gregor, and you must be the deil donned in permanent red that's tied a leash around the neck of the male population." He face remain impassive and then breaks in an amused grin. "Female too." he adds, amused mockery bouncing in those night dark eyes.
O.M.F.G.
What a freak.
