214 23 35

"Mei! Get your ass down here right now, or I swear to God I'll leave you for dead!" Mom yells from down the stairs.

"Mom! No cursing!" I yell back, slipping on an old pair of vans I had shoved in the back of my closet. I quickly look at myself in the mirror, straightening my outfit, and grab my bag from my dresser (which has seen better years).

"If you want to be late on your first day, then be my guest!" she yells, replying, "You better bust a move before I leave you!"

"I'm coming!" I bellow.

I run down the slippery stairs, and quickly grab a stiff piece of toast mom left for me from the table. I jump into the back seat of my dad's burgundy-red range rover.

"How many times have I told you not to wear that shirt!" dad yells, pulling out of the driveway.

I roll my eyes and take a bite of my cold, stale bread. This ladies and gentleman is a typical school morning routine in my day (even on my first days she has to have a tantrum).

1. Wake up every day ten minutes later than I should've (because the alarm keeps slacking off).

2. Get in the shower and wash the dried spit off my face.

3. Get dressed while my mom yells at me to hurry up so she can attend her early pilates classes.

And finally

4. Hurry up and get the heck out of there, before my mom comes and strangles me for "making a bad impression".

School mornings have taught me a lot. I can now make How-to tutorials on finishing my mom's patience in under thirty seconds. Ad-free.

Today is the first day of attending my dream university (Greenville University), after spending the whole summer in the Bahamas in tight, blood stopping bikinis, with my family.

Lately, my parents have been pretty heated around the house because they've been accused of tax fraud and are close to losing my grandmother's lucrative jewelry business.

It sounded worse(er) in my head.

My parents own a jewelry store in our town. Well, that was until last year when a new jewelry store took the stage. Long story short, a year later they went bankrupt and, guess what, since they were struggling with money, they couldn't pay all the tax money. I mean, they still own it but let's just say it's probably a bad year for getting engaged. My sister, Anne, (a rich snob who probably got her toilet paper handed to her by a diamond-encrusted butler) treats only my family and I like human beings. I mean, she's nice to me but she's pretty shitty to pretty much everybody else in existence.

Like really shitty.

Maybe it's because she's rich. Maybe it's because she's pretty. Maybe it's because she has blue eyes and blonde hair. Maybe it's because everybody wants her body (And I don't mean PG thirteen). Then there's me, Mei. Short purple hair (dyed), hazel-cat eyes, freckles, and big round glasses that I have to wear unless I bring my contacts. I live in jeans and 'aesthetic' teen clothing, and I've never gotten anything below a C in any class for the past thirteen years in my school life.

Let's just say being called a 'nerd' was fun back then and didn't lower my self-esteem.


Once we arrived at the school's parking lot, my dad parked and I got out of the car.

"Have an awesome day sweetie!" my mom yelled, as I got my bag and swung it over my shoulder.

"Bye, love you."

I closed the door, adjusted my black crop top, and walked to the front of the school. I stomped up the stairs and watched as students came into my view like sprouts. One thing I could say about it is that there were a lot of hot/cute/whatever you call attractive people at the front entrance, and what could be the whole school. I was a pig in a crowd full of diamonds.

But there weren't just attractive people in the school. I was not the only one who took my style from the '90s half goth dropout' collection and the 'Nerdy Harajuku' fashion shoot. There were also a lot of people that looked like different types of 'nerd'. Computer geeks, book worms, gamers... and cyberpunks as well (they're a type of nerd). Also, I could see a bunch of LGBTQ+ members. If you're asking how I could see them well a flock of men (maybe?) seemed to be passionately kissing each other in the corridor, displaying their deep affection for each other. So I assumed either their LGBTQ+ or European.

The outside of the school looked pretty decent (what I mean is, it looked pretty decent for a rich university). It had glimmering glass windows as the walls, regular doors (I think those were the only regular things there), and security guards scouring the place like flies.

I only wished my sister still lived here, even though she stole all of the spotlights from me, but I never complained in the shadows. She could turn heads.

Speaking of turning heads.

I walked in at the entrance (man there were a lot of stairs), the vent's AC started making my hair dance, and I immediately noticed that a lot of people were looking at me.

Like a lot.

I fluster as the people whisper and girls flush over... my appearance?

My hair?

My outfit?

"Wait, you guys aren't supposed to be swooning...I'm not a boy..." I whisper to myself.

I didn't know why but I sniffed the air. My eyebrows clinched together. There was an unsettling settling odor.

Peppermint cologne, maybe? Yes, but something else too. Something... dangerous.

There was a laugh. Low. Deep. Evil.

I turned around and watched as a chiseled (man, he was chiseled), tall (I don't know how he made height look hot), sharp-featured (that jawline could cut paper), well built (especially around the arms) boy walked in the entrance, scanning the hallway. Can I just "accidentally" fall into his arms and die?

My cheeks grew red-hot as his hand brushed through his droopy, curly brown hair while the other boy stayed by his side like a soldier. Boy after boy assembled beside him, like some type of power ranger dream force, and all you could smell was the heavy scent of jocks and expensive cologne. I could hear the girls' giggly chatter in the background. He looked up and winked, making them swoon to the max.

His piercing, light blue eyes fell back on me and the side of his lips rose sinisterly.

He pushed past me and I watched as heads followed his every move to the end of the hallway.

Now that's a jackpot I wouldn't want to lose.



Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Hey Noah, The "Shy" Girl Likes YouWhere stories live. Discover now