Poppy Jameson has lived her life as an average. An average student. An average daughter. She isn't the favourite child, or the best student, and she has never been in a relationship. She doesn't want to fit in, but she doesn't want to stand out. She...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
lewis
The Sixth Form library was unusually busy after school on Monday. As I opened the doors, and saw the backs of heads of people sitting at computers around the room, I frowned.
Packing up her books and pencil case into the handbag she used as a school bag was Rebecca Andrews. She was wearing blue skinny jeans because there was a chill in the air. If the weather app on her phone had promised double digits she would have worn a skirt that just met the school's guidelines. Even so, the jeans she was wearing were tight in all the right places.
She hooked the handbag she used as a school bag over her forearm, grabbed her jacket and started towards the door. She noticed me side-stepping my way to a table in the corner and her eyes lit up.
"Lewis!" she sang. Had this been the school's main library, an angry librarian would have told her to 'shhh!', but everybody had their headphones in, and nobody really cared.
"Rebecca, hey."
"What are you still doing here?" she asked, reaching for a strand of her wavy blonde hair. It wasn't the same shade of blonde as Poppy's. Rebecca's was a darker, more natural blonde, though everybody knew it was dyed. Until the age of thirteen, Rebecca had sported a dark brunette look that clashed with her pale skin. But then had discovered hair dye and fake tan, and she hadn't looked back since.
"I'm tutoring."
"Oh my God, I forgot you tutor! That's so cute!"
I shimmied by backpack off my shoulder and set it down on the table beside me. Rebecca closed the gap between us with a slow step.
"If you're ever available, I could totally use some help with my English Literature coursework."
"That's not really my forte," I told her. The four A-Levels I had chosen were biology, chemistry, physics and maths.
She reached out and I felt her touch through my coat. "That's a shame."
She held her hand against me for what felt like an eternity and I could feel the blood warming my cheeks. "Yeah," I croaked.
"Even so. We should hang out sometime." It wasn't a question. There was a determined finality in her words.
I nodded, imagining what hanging out with Rebecca Andrews would entail. Alcohol? Probably. Dimmed-lights? Definitely. Clothes? Who knew. Though the idea of rolling around in the dark with her made my cheeks burn like there was a fire in my skull.
"Well I have to get going. I have to pick my step-brother up from school," she said, rolling her eyes. She shrugged her arms into her jacket. "I'll text you."
"Okay," I called after her. My eyes rolled down the back of her body. Her bomber jacket ended just as her high-waisted jeans hugged her waist. The outline of her phone in her back pocket was visible through the tight-fitting denim. On her left ankle she had a vibrant ankle bracelet, probably something she had picked up on holiday during the summer.
