An ex-couples rivalry for the spot as student body president becomes even more convoluted when two new, unexpected candidates enter the race. Chloe and Preston team up, each vowing to get one member kicked from the competition-- but when they both e...
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Finn had only been in my room for two minutes and yet he'd already made himself comfortable, sitting against the side of my bed and sprawling his legs out on the carpet. He looked out of place, his long messy hair and worn-out jeans contrasting the pink walls and neatly-tucked sheets. I joined him on the floor, already starting up my laptop.
It seemed like every time we were alone together, we got into an argument. Would we manage to make it through this without another one?
I watched as typed something on his phone, too engrossed with whatever was on the screen to notice my lingering gaze. His face lit up with a devilish grin, and I looked away, wondering what caused the smile. Probably one of his friends from the bleachers ragging on him for hanging out with me. Or maybe it was one of the girls I'd insulted yesterday, asking when he'd be free.
Why do you care, again? I asked myself, making a mental note that whatever Finn did when we weren't working together was no concern of mine.
I glanced over again, studying his face. I guess I had to admit that I could see what made him so appealing to all his female suitors. His features were strong, and he was probably the most muscular guy in our grade— he would've made a great jock, but something told me Finn wasn't much of a team player. There was a rugged sort of handsomeness to him, and it matched his personality to a T.
I refocused on the laptop screen in front of me, opening up a blank document. He was good looking, sure, but totally not my type. I dated football stars with expensive haircuts, not outcasted rebels who wore wrinkled t-shirts and dirty combat boots.
"Okay," I started, brushing away my pointless thoughts about Finn's appearance. He looked up and tucked his phone back into the pocket of his flannel, granting me his attention. "It's Monday, which means we have five days left until the assembly. We really need to start preparing your speech."
Finn gave an exaggerated grimace. "Or we really don't. I'm not writing a speech."
I squinted at him, unable to tell if he was playing around. "Finn, it's part of the rules. You have to give a speech."
"And I'm going to. But I'm a lot funnier when I wing things."
"You want to wing one of the most important parts of the campaign?" I questioned him like he was crazy, which at the moment, I was pretty convinced of.
He nodded slowly as if it would make me understand better. It didn't.
"You can't."
"Can't I?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "It is my campaign, right?"
"Fine." I settled, not wanting to have the same argument twice. "We'll just do an outline, and you can—"
"Uh uh." He shook his head.
I huffed in frustration. "Okay, I'll make you a list of bullet points—"
"Nope."
I sent him a glare, but he looked obnoxiously unbothered. "Finn, we're supposed to be compromising."
