Chapter 4: Proper Decorum

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~Edited~

Riley was delighted. Last night's party was a blur so she was sure it was awesome. She remembered a couple snippets such as kissing Oliver, flirting with boys, making friends with Charlotte Princeton, the most popular girl at school (at the moment) and gossiping, gossiping, gossiping and more gossiping.

She gossiped mostly about the non-populars, ones that she used to be, talking bad about her ex-best friends Avery Matthews, the cheer captain, and Colton O'Brien, a footballer, and poking fun at many more.

She vaguely remembered telling a girl off when the girl made a move on Oliver. What was her name? Oh yeah, Tina Evergreen or something? She was about to become the newest social outcast. She'd have to make up a rumour or something.

Riley woke up next to a very shirtless Oliver, who had a strong, muscular arm around her. She turned around and admired his toned abs and taut muscles, rubbing a hand along them. Realizing she should head home, she tugged at his iron grip, trying to free herself, but he mumbled, "Stay."

So,-shocker-she stayed.

It wasn't until Oliver's parents came in did she attempt to pull away.

Mrs. Wilde looked at her and sighed.

"What's this lovely young lady's name Oliver? And why is she in your bed? Did you get some 'action?'"

Oliver cringed.

"Mother!"

"Oh, sorry, Oliver, honey," she chuckled.

"Take her home." Mr. Wilde said rather hastily, a definite contrast form his wife's cheerful tone. "And put a shirt on, you're not Taylor Lautner."

Oliver scoffed, "You're absolutely right. My body is 150% muscles, unlike that CGI crap he has on."

His parents sighed.

"When you come back, Oliver, you're cleaning up all of this up. We said you could have the party as long as no girls ending up in your bed, so you have to clean up all by yourself. Oh, and you're grounded," Mrs. Wilde said.

"But, but, whatever, just get out, both of you," Oliver said, pulling on a shirt. His parents exchanged a meaningful glance, and exited the room.

"Riles, c'mere," he whispered from across his bedroom. In three strides, Riley crossed to Oliver's side. Oliver arms came around her and he squeezed her.

"Babe, loosen your grip," she whispered.

"It's your fault I'm in trouble Riley," he murmured, "You owe me."

"Um, no. That's ridiculous," she responded.

"Just wait and see, babe."

Riley pushed him off.

"Seriously, why are you acting like a jerk? Later."

--

Oliver hadn't really thought his plan through. He had put on his best outfit on, one that showed off his toned muscles, and he had been ignoring Riley the whole day.

They had last period together, and Oliver sat as far as he could from the teacher and tried not to call attention to himself. As expected, Riley sat next to him, but he still made no move to communicate.

Last period was art, and because it was art, Riley wasn't in an advanced course-unlike all her other classes, as, unfortunately, if you were smart the previous year, you can't go into the regular program. And thanks to Riley's earlier nerdiness, she was beyond the highest marker, but, snickering to herself as she thought this, it was time to bomb.

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