Twice The Trouble

Chapter 8: Stacy Meets A Twin

"You're the one initiating the conversation here," I pointed out.

"You! You're my problem. You think you're so great because you're a model?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't understand what you're getting all winded up about.I'm just a freelance model. There's no harm in accepting gigs. And were you eavesdropping on us?"

"Hah. Don't get conceited, Sta. Ana. I'm way prettier than you. Just because you got your dumb face on magazine ads and catalogues doesn't mean you're anything to drool over."

"Sure," was my only reply before she turned her attention back to her friends.

"Don't you dare turn your back on me!" Alison snarled before the school bell rang.

"Bitch," Heather mouthed while Barbie said in a hushed voice: "Social climber."

The three Mean Girls sashayed out of the classroom as students made way for them.

"Wow, that was fun," Miles muttered as they all fixed their chairs and things.

"Nothing's new. There are still girls jealous of Stacy," Dylan remarked casually.

"High school was the prequel. College is the sequel, apparently," Selena commented.

Heat spread across my cheeks. Nothing new. They were right, anyway. On the other hand, everyone has enemies,don't they? And I was immune to hatred and envy from girls and guys alike, be it someone whose boyfriend ditched her to chase after me, or a crappy ex-boyfriend.

My life wasn't easy...

Dylan eyed me briefly and told the two girls: "Let's go get lunch. My treat."

..But with friends like him? It was certainly more tolerable.

"Yes! Dy, you're the best," Miles, the glutton of the group, cheered as she patted his back.

"Anywhere with rice is fine with me," Selena agreed, walking alongside me.

I said nothing and gave a nod at the three colleagues I've known since forever.

Sophia and I agreed to eat lunch with our cliques today, so we both know the drill.

The four of us continued to walk purposefully along the corridor. Our main building consisted of six floors, and our previous classroom was located at the fifth story. We hastened our pace a bit.

I wonder how my dear twin was doing? Was she okay? Was she stuffing her face with unhealthy food? Hmm. Random thoughts. I love Sophia to the moon and back, but I wonder what it would be like to have a brother, like Ate Jolene with Bro Benny. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have Bro Mack, my cousin, as our brother. He was quiet but when adventure comes, he won't hesitate to--

"Hey." I felt someone nudge my arm. I looked up. It was Dylan, watching me with concern.

I ignored him.

Hmm. Doesn't Bro Allan, Benny's friend, have an older brother? I never saw his face. I bet he's handsome. I mean, come on. Even though Bro Allan, Ate Jasmine's ex, was a total ass, I wasn't blind to his good looks. If there's one guy I would hate to be my brother, it would definitely be Sam, Ate Jolene's now-working boyfriend. I didn't like that guy. He seems off to me.

"ACE!"

By the time I lifted my head, it was too late. THWACK! A hard sky blue door banged behind me.

Someone had swung it open while I walked dangerously close to it.

SHIT. THAT HURT LIKE HELL! I cupped the side of my head, wincing at the sore ache in it.

My teeth gritted, and I planted one hand on my hip while the other hand stayed on my head.

The sky blue door was pushed open wider, and I prepared a deathly glare for my assailant.

He was tall, about six-four, and he had his long brown fringe swept to the side in a suave style.

Inevitably, he wore the standard male Orion uniform of white polo, blue tie and blue pants.

"What?" He asked without interest nor remorse as his aqua eyes met my furious glare.

"You. hit. me," I hammered out with as much hatred as I could muster.

His expression remained plain and ignorant. "I did?"

"YES, YOU DID!" I half-shouted, wrestling my impatience. Students were watching us.

The brown-haired, blue-eyed asshole brought a hand to his hair, mussing it up in a sexy way.

A large crew of giggling girls nearby swooned at the sight of him. I rolled my blue eyes upward.

His fingers still up in his tresses, he glanced at me and asked: "So now what?"

"Apologize," I ordered imperiously while I crossed my arms over my chest.

At last, some form of emotion appeared on his sinfully handsome face.

His left eyebrow was raised and his features were stiff with irritation. Ah. He's pissed.

Good.

"I don't have to apologize," he shot back scathingly. "If anything, you should say sorry for being stupid and careless enough to get smacked by a door. This hallway is massive, FYI." He smirked.

My blood boiled at his arrogance. I could feel my folded arms trembling with fury.

I looked over my shoulder and saw my three friends witnessing our little exchange. Damn. We only had an hour before our next subject, but I needed to show this bozo a lesson.

Pasting a fake but sweet, charming smile on my face, I whirled around to face the jerk.

"Why don't you just say sorry for hitting my head? We've wasted enough time as it is."

The handsome idiot scoffed at my attempt to be cute. "I don't have to say anything, Pink headband. But we do agree on one thing: I wasted five minutes talking to you."

Accompanied by two of his male friends, he walked away from me.

.......

.......

What the hell just happened? And did he call me Pink Headband? Instantly, my right hand flew to the simple pink hairband I wore today, and on a daily basis. I loved the color pink.

Dylan slung an arm around my shoulders and clucked his tongue. "Just let it go, Ace."

I parted my lips to retort, but Miles draped her arm around one of mine and said: "Chill."

"Wow. He's just as obstinate as you, Ace," Selena remarked. "He didn't fall prey to your charms, too. That's a first." The three of them laughed at my grimace.

We continued to climb down the staircases.

"I hate him," I declared, vowing my revenge the next time we see each other.

And we will. I had seen one of his classmates holding up a particular textbook, and I guessed that the jerk was taking up Photography or something. Which meant he was also a member of the Fine Arts department, like myself.

"You hate a lot of people," Dylan stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

I shot him a warning look. "You want to be on the list?"

"Nah." He reached out to ruffle my perfect yellow tresses.

A groan escaped me. "Dylan! Not the hair!"

They all proceeded to laugh at my expense. Ah, these friends of mine.

Sometimes,I love them. Other times, I could kill them.