No Strings Attached

Chapter 2

“This year is going to be the year, I’m sure of it!” Bruce was throwing his fists up in the air, cackling like a mad man. My best friend had finally lost it. 

“What are you talking about?” 

His brown eyes narrowed on me; his smile, however, only widened. “You are finally going to get your shot at Ashton March.” 

My tongue immediately twisted as the words left Bruce’s mouth. “Y-You don’t understand. I-I can’t even t-talk to him.” 

Leaning over my desk to waggle his eyebrows in my face, he smirked coyly. “Whoever said anything about talking? You’re gorgeous, Skylar! Use that sex appeal of yours to catch him in your trap!” 

My cheeks heated as I softly pushed his face away. “What sex appeal, you idiot? I’ve got as much sex appeal as the gum on the bottom of this desk.” 

“Well hey, guys can tell a lot about a woman by the way she chews her gum,” He winked, sliding back into his seat and facing the front. 

“Bullshit!” I snapped, shooting him a glower just as the front door slammed open. 

“Miss Cove,” came Mr. Abbey’s voice drifted to me from the front. My heart instantly dropped into the pits of my stomach. Mr. Abbey was notorious throughout the school as a stickler for cussing and I mentally smacked my forehead for being so stupid. Never having been scolded by him before, however, I knew I’d be let off with just a warning this time. 

“Detention after school.” 

I must have heard him wrong. I mean, I was all the way in the back and he was ancient so his voice was rarely ever above a whisper. “What, sir?”

This was one of those rare times. 

“You have detention after school today, Miss Cove. We will no longer discuss the matter.” 

I was left wide-eyed for two seconds before I glared over at Bruce. He simply gave me a shrug and a knowing smirk. 

~ 

“Pick up the pace, you troublemakers! I want to see my reflection on this floor!” 

For the past thirty minutes, I must have been wiping at the sticky tile with a wet rag and my tears. Mr. Abbey would rise every so often and shout commands at us like a petrifying drill sergeant. And like an obedient soldier, I heeded to his every order. Stop, drop and roll, and all. Who knew such a scraggly old man could possess such a booming voice? 

I vowed to myself I’d never get another detention again. 

The doors swung open for what must have been the umpteenth time in these past thirty minutes. The silence had been interrupted every two seconds with the slamming of doors and I didn’t even bother looking up, focusing on the task at hand. The quicker I cleaned my designated area of filth, the faster I could get out of here and cry all the way home. 

At the sound of a rag hitting against the tile beside me, I looked over at a pair of black Converse. “Pigtails, what the hell are you doing here?” 

Oh God no. 

Crawling a step away from him, I gawked up as Ashton plopped down beside me. “I-I got  detention.” I stammered back, my fingers digging into the filthy rag. 

“No shit, Sherlock. I could’ve guessed that much myself.” He snickered, running his hand through his disheveled dark hair. “I want to know why.”

I peered around the massive cafeteria. Every student was spaced out perfectly, far away enough from the other that any means of communication was futile. Yet, here was Ashton, two feet away from me, strolling in half an hour late and not even cleaning. 

“I cursed in Mr. Abbey’s class.” 

At my muffled declaration, Ashton burst out laughing, receiving a lethal glower from the Colonel himself. “That old damn geezer forced you into this mess for such a petty crime?” He was howling now, smacking his knee. 

I bowed my head at Mr. Abbey’s bark. “March, shut your mouth and get to work!” 

“Yo, Marian, how the hell could you put Kiddo over here in detention?” He dared to call back, still laughing. As I saw Mr. Abbey’s beady eyes narrow, I gulped. This boy had a death wish. 

When Mr. Abbey simply shook his head and turned to yell at other students who seemed to be slacking off, my jaw dropped. Ashton was smirking at me when I cocked my brow at him. “How---” 

“Marian and I go way back. Old fart’s been calling me a potty mouth since I was five.” At my blink, he added quietly, cupping his hand over his mouth like a barrier from the other students. I couldn’t help but realize how adorable his actions were. “He’s my uncle, kiddo. Keep it on the DL though. He’s the only reason I haven’t been expelled yet.”

I saw absolutely no resemblance as I exchanged glances between the cranky elder and the snickering prick sat beside me. “Why are you in here?” I asked, my voice barely audible. 

Ashton shrugged as he--- surprisingly enough--- scrubbed dutifully at the dingy tile. I honestly swore these grey tiles had never once been white in all their existence in this cafeteria. “Alright, let’s see. Bickerman sent me here ‘cos she was wrong and I simply proved her wrong. One point, moi. Zero for Bickerbitch.” Tapping his chin pensively, he began counting his misdoings on his fingers. “I wouldn’t shut up in Gibson’s class. This old fucking hag counted thirty examples of ‘vulgar language’ leave my mouth in under two minutes…” I found it near impossible for any normal human being to get in so much trouble in the course of one school day. 

But this was Ashton March we were talking about. 

“Oh!” His light eyes sparkled mischievously as he leaned closer to me. “And I may or may have not started the food fight today during lunch.” At his triumphant smirk, I caught a glimpse of the mustard stain on my sleeve. When I’d seen the first sight of flying food during lunch, I’d immediately ducked under my table and waited out the fight. 

It was all his flipping fault, of course. 

“It’s problematic kids like you that ruin schools, you know.” I sighed with a disapproving shake of my head, rinsing out my rag in the bucket in front of me. 

Sniggering, Ashton tossed the rag in the bucket, the smelly water splashing up over my arms and all over the floor. He shot me a wink at my murderous leer. 

“Kiddo, it’s problematic kids like me that make this school fun.”