Welcome to Bridgeport Academy, an elite boarding school in New York where glamorous rich kids don't let rules get in the way of a good time.
[ Based on the It Girl series by Cecily Von Ziegesar ]
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
"Oof!" Alex slammed into a tall boy as she walked down Stansfield Hall's third floor hallway. She'd been trying to kill a couple of minutes catching up on texts and IMs before meeting with some teacher named Mr. Jordan, who was supposed to be the new Disciplinary Committee adviser. Quincy's message had just popped up on the screen. "Sorry," she muttered to the person who'd bumped into her, without even looking to see who it was.
"You better watch where you're going with that. It's Alexandra, right?"
She looked up and an unbelievably handsome brown-skinned boy was standing in front of her. He looked like a model but even taller and better. He wore a button down shirt and Alex couldn't help but imagine him haphazardly throwing it on over his hard, muscular chest as he climbed out of bed.
"I recognize you from the picture in your student file," the boy went on. "I'm Michael B. Jordan, the new DC adviser."
Oops. This was no boy.
"Oh! Um. Hi, Mr. Jordan," Alex stammered, shoving her cell phone in her pocket. "I'm, uh, sorry about that." She held out her hand. He shuffled a coffee mug (the same Bridgeport Owls mug that they mixed drinks in at their dorm parties) from one hand to the other and gripped hers. She was suddenly glad that she had a moisturizing fetish and that her palm would feel silky in his hand.
"Those aren't allowed here, you know." Mr. Jordan raised his eyebrows at her phone. For a second Alex thought he was serious and started to muster up an excuse. Then he whispered, "But I won't tell...this time. Go sit down in my office and I'll be with you in a sec."
Flustered, Alex smiled, wishing she had something witty to say. The door to his office stood open and she walked in and looked around. For a guy who'd just arrived at Bridgeport, he sure had a lot of stuff. There were posters, books, and papers everywhere. She noticed a decanter filled with what looked like red wine on the oak table in the corner, and her mind started to race.
Settle down, she told herself. You're here because he's new to Bridgeport and he wants to meet all the DC members. That's probably cranberry juice, not wine.
She walked up to one of the posters that he had hung in a heavy, gilded frame. It was actually an old inscribed scroll, mounted and framed. She squinted at the Ancient Greek words and murmured, "'Praise each god as though they were listening.'"
"How'd you know that?" a voice called out behind her.
Alex jumped. Mr. Jordan stood in the doorway, grinning at her slyly, as if he knew a big secret and was ready to spill it. "I spent a little time in Greece," she said uncertainly.
"You want to sit down?" he asked. "Sorry for all the papers." He quickly picked a stack of papers up off a chair, leaning so close to her that she couldn't help but notice how good he smelled. "Can I get you anything?" He sat down in his brown leather chair. It made a farting creak, which both of them pretended not to notice. "I have a little fridge, some glasses, although I only have...well...actually, all I have, I think, is some wine." He frowned, then blinked hard. "Sorry. I mean, obviously we can't have wine. I don't know what that's even doing in here, because I wasn't drinking it or anything."
