The Good Girl's Bad Side

Chapter 8: I may not be an expert in girls' fashion, but even that outfit is not

"Is that the reason for Kaitlyn's flushed cheeks?" I smirk.

"Yep. Too bad Jordy here called dibs on her," Chase puts a hand on his heart, pretending that his hurt.

"Don't worry, you'll get your chance soon enough," I pat his shoulder.

"So are you coming?" Peyton asks.

"To?" I ask.

"The beach party," she answers gleefully.

"Yeah not coming," I shake my head.

"Why not? It's going to be lit," Chase says.

"Yeah I'm not comfortable with revealing my body wearing some skimpy bikini," I say in disgust.

"There's nothing wrong in showing people your assets," he winks at me and I roll my eyes.

"Is that the reason you wore--" Peyton eyes my outfit, "--that?"

"What's wrong with my outfit?"

"I may not be an expert in girls' fashion, but even that outfit is not working out," Chase shakes his head.

"Still not going," I open my locker to retrieve my books.

Beach parties are not my thing. I see no point of wearing skimpy bikinis just to impress hormonal teenage boys. Last time I to a beach party at my old school, some guy tried cornering me and forced me to flash myself but luckily, with the little bit of training I had at that time, I was able to send him into a comma--or let's just say I knocked him out.

"Oh c'mon," Peyton whines and pouts her pink lips.

"Don't you want to kiss me with those lips princess?" Chase wiggles his eyebrows at Peyton who gives him a look that says don't and I give Chase a quizzical look.

"Fine," I sigh turning my attention back to Peyton and she claps her hands enthusiastically like a four year old girl who's been bought a new princess tutu.

"Hailey." Poke.

"Hailey." Poke.

"Hailey." Poke.

"What?!" I whisper yell.

"I need help," he grins.

"With?" I am beyond irritated at this point.

We are in maths class and we were given an assignment to do during this period and it is due by the end of the period. Meanwhile, Jordan--his sitting next to me-- has been poking my shoulder vexingly.

"The assignment," he pouts and pulls out a puppy dog face.

"How about you use that frivolous face of yours to ask someone else," I say looking back at my assignment.

20 minutes left.

"But no one wants to help," he whines and I avoid him.

"Please." Poke.

"Please." Poke.

"Please." Poke.

"Leave me alone," I say.

"Is there a problem miss Matthews?" Mr Thompson asks me from his desk.

"No Sir," I shake my head.

"Yes there is a problem," Jordan says.

"What?" Mr T sighs.

"You're assignment is too hard."

"Does it look like I care?"