He was looking for himself...But found her instead.
A hard-headed drama queen striving for freedom from her overprotective mother.
A smart alcoholic searching for a part of himself that is lost.
Rachel Morgan and Richard Davis have nothing in common...
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“What are you doing on my special table, Burger face?”
“Excuse me?”
Who has a special table in a freaking food canteen? That's impossible and dumb!
“I know you're new, but you have to ask questions or you could get in a lot of trouble ‘round here.” The weird guy leaned closer, whispering like he didn't want his other buddies to hear what he wanted to say. “And the last thing you want is to get in trouble with the king of the school.”
His words made anger glaze my vision almost instantly, a renewed form of heat surrounding my veins. One of the things I loathed in this entire world was wasting of good, delicious food. And now, this food-waster had the guts to say he was the king of the school? My school?
My mind soon began to flood with millions of ideas on how to make Mr.King-of-the-school suffer for wasting my food. I was ready to show him his place if need be.
But then, that calm, soothing voice from the sensible part of my mind reminded me of a fact that fighting on your first day in school might leave you with a bad reputation. Other students might start thinking I was a fighter and wouldn't want to associate themselves with me.
This single thought forced my angry nerves to subside—just a little.
I decided to be nothing but well-mannered and civil. Besides, no argument has ever been solved by shouting or ranting like animals on a rampage.
Quietly I stood, ready to throw in the sponge and forfeit the table without a single fight. But only if they met my condition.
“Apologise.”
“What?”
“Apologise.” I repeated, not fazed by his perplexity. “And I'll forget how rude you were a few seconds ago. I'll let you have your ‘special table’ without a fuss and forgive you for wasting my perfectly-sized burger.”
A roar of laughter erupted, surrounding me and seizing the attention of other students in the cafeteria. Now all eyes were on us.
I could feel my insides growing unpleasantly warm. The heat was back, hitting my system like a tidal wave—stronger and hotter. Balling up my little fingers into fists, I hated how they felt so insignificant. If only they were larger and stronger, I’d be able to show these idiots what their place was.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Charlotte finally stepping into the canteen and my fingers loosened, just a bit. Maybe she would be able to talk some sense into these nut-heads since it was possible she knew them. Probably, they would finally let me enjoy my lunch in peace.
“Rachel?” Her steps faltered to a halt once she realised there was trouble. Her oval face took on a paler shade. “What's going on?”
“I think it’s better you ask these idiots in front of me. They're claiming a table in the canteen as their property.”
