I looked around at the boys I was with as we stood in line at the ice cream parlor. All the boys were devastatingly handsome. There was Rowen, who seemed quiet compared to the other guys, but he had this sort of assertive and dominating power that radiated off of him as if every step he took was onto land he owned. He had dark brown, almost black hair that was rather messy. He had slightly tanned skin and thick eyebrows that showed his green eyes. He was wearing jeans and a black and white classic Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He was very tall, roughly the same height as Matteo.
Then there was Caspian, who definitely seemed like a flirt, but he was genuinely funny. He seemed a little cocky, but I just didn't think he knew who he was talking to. He has curly, messy blonde hair that was a little on the longer side. He had deceivingly innocent blue eyes, but the rest of his face was angled and sharp. He was built like a soccer player, muscular but not overly so. He was tall, definitely over six feet, but all the boys were strikingly tall. Lord only knows what they feed those European kids nowadays. He was wearing just a grey t-shirt with black sweats, but I looked down and saw his Dior high top kicks, and I could tell he wasn't here to play.
Matteo was insanely hot. Like, oh my god I don't know what to do with myself hot. He was visibly muscular like a rugby player through his striped GUESS t-shirt. He was very tall too, definitely standing around 6'4". He had warm, darkish skin. He had contrasting black tightly curled hair and full lips. His eyes were striking. You'd expect dark eyes on someone with dark features but instead, he had these super-light, sea glass green eyes. He stood with his legs spread and his arms crossed, radiating power.
Laurent had shown the least amount of interest in me until I spoke with him in French. I could tell he was judging my accent, but French was definitely not my best class. He had the sharpest and most severe features, which didn't make him seem stern, but instead more refined. He had, by contrast, fairer skin than the other boys and he had straight, center-parted hair (young Leo style) that was dark brown. He had brown eyes, that I could always feel looking at me. He was slimmer built than the other boys, but I could tell he had toned muscles. He was dressed in a white collared shirt, which he had rolled the sleeves up on and undid a few buttons and tucked into his khaki pants. Everything was very well-tailored, and I could tell from my experience it was definitely expensive. And the shoes also gave it away, being Gucci slip-on shoes.
The four of them on a whole had been very entertaining and I needed a distraction. High School was frustrating and hard, especially math. Ok, basically only Math. Someone remind me not to take advanced Math next year. And French. Fuck French. Also, I wasn't invited to the party this weekend, which was fine but I knew the girl and some of my friends she invited didn't even know her, so it was just an awkward situation.
I was snapped out of my thoughts and Rowen nudged me. I realized I was not in the front of the line for Ice Cream.
"Hi! I'd like two scoops of the lemon sorbet," I said as happily as I could. And then the line moved down and I glanced down at the boys beginning to order. I went to the man at the cash register and told him I'd pay for all the boys. He looked at me slightly confused like, what is this 16-year-old doing past midnight paying for four teenage boys' ice cream?
I might ask myself the same question. But it's probably not a good habit, but an older habit from when I was younger and I had friends who took advantage of my wealth. My parents made an insane amount of money when I was about 8. I went from sharing a twin bed with my three younger siblings to having the biggest house within the city limits.
I sat down at a table by the window and began to dig into my ice cream. The boys all walked up and sat themselves down around the table.
"Why'd you pay for our ice cream?" Rowen said, concern and confusion, and maybe even hurt in his eyes. Despite his solemn tone I struggled to keep from laughing.
"'Cause I can," I stated, looking him in the eyes as if waiting for him to challenge me.
"Really, there was no need," Caspian said, touching my arm as he did. I rolled my eyes and shrugged him off of me.
"If you're really upset about it, here, I'll make it even." and I took a scoop of his ice cream and ate it.
He looked at me in utter shock and possibly even betrayal as I ate his caramel ice cream.
"Salty Caramel? Good Choice." I said and then took a scoop of Rowens.
"Mmmm even better, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough." and then I proceed to taste each of the other boy's ice cream. Laurent had Coffee flavored ice cream and Matteo had Mint Chocolate Chip.
"Ok Matteo win's best icecream flavor!" I declared after sampling all of the boys' icecream.
The boys looked at me dumbstruck for maybe the millionth time that night. We ate in silence for only a second before Laurent spoke up, his Parisian accent ever so apparent.
"Magnolia, how old are you?" he said calmly, but I could tell this was something he was worried about. Huh, I really hope I guessed their age right that they were under 21 otherwise this is going to be very awkward, I thought to myself.
"Uh, sixteen, I'll be a junior this year," I said, glancing up nervously at them. I saw that all the boys exchanged a glance. Some seemed relieved and some seemed even more worried. "How old are y'all?" I asked, pointing my spoon teasingly at them.
"We are all 18, and we will be the British equivalent seniors this Fall," Matteo said, nodding his head as he did. That accent, Oof I can't handle it.
"Hey, can I have your number? I know it's forward and we only just met, but I really think we could be friends?" Caspian blurted out. He seemed nervous, but I assumed he didn't get nervous around girls because of how much of a flirt he was.
"Haha yeah, but also send me your mama's email so I can send her anythin' that could be used as blackmail," I said looking him dead in the eye, not revealing whether it was a joke or not.
"Uhhh.." He started, even more, flustered than before.
"I'm just teasin' ya. Sure!" I took his phone and put my number in and did the same as all the other boys passed me their phones. I pretended not to notice that it was the latest and most expensive iPhone model on the market, and each boy had different designer phone cases on theirs.
"Ok before I have to go home, we must take self-timer photos. It's a tradition." I stated in the most matter of fact way I could.
"Self-timer photos?" Matteo said, hesitating. I hope they don't judge me for it, but it is a tradition with my friends whenever we go out, so we must.
"Yes, come along now." I led them outside and I took Caspian's phone and stood it up against a window cill, so it was at a more normal level and set the timer for 3 seconds. The boys posed together awkwardly and I ran and jumped on Rowen's back. I could tell that I weighed nothing to him despite me definitely not being a petite girl. I could feel his body stiffen under mine, and I couldn't conceal a blush as I felt him grab my thighs. I am so dumb I can't just jump on random boy's backs.
"Ok, another! Another!"I jumped down and squealed excitedly. The boys laughed as we continued to take photos, the boys and I making silly poses. Picking me up and throwing me, doing the 'fuckboy' stance, doing the cringe-y prom poses, among others. We probably took 20 photos.
Then we departed. I gave them all a hug, and Caspian begged for a kiss on the check, in response I innocently asked him, "Which cheek?". I watched the color drain from his face and he sputtered. Nothin' feels better than out dirting a dirty mind.
I took an Uber home. My parents weren't there so no one was upset at my later-than-expected arrival at the unholy hour of 1:00 in the morning, I showered and washed my face before sleepily climbing into bed and falling fast asleep.
Does anyone else LOVE self-timers? that could just be a me thing, but they are great for personal photoshoots. Thank you for reading <3!!!
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Westwood SchoolTeen Fiction
Rowen Ashworth and his three closest friends practically run their elite British boarding school. There, the richest of the rich send their children to get the best education and to make good connections. They expect their senior year to be no diff...