SETTING: SEATTLE, WASHINGTON.
REDMOUND HIGH SCHOOL
TIME: 4.36p.m
IVY DULCE WAS A NAME THAT DIDN'T SOUND DETENTION WORTHY. Thank God, it resonated expensive, luxurious for a below par man to even read yet her "luxurious" ass sat unwillingly pert in the plastic blue chair awaiting for the hour to ultimately finish. Every so often she'd sweep the under of her bottom, dusting off her layered chiffon tennis skirt that modishly matched her wheaten beige sweater that clung to her willowy frame; her back feverishly grazed the back of her chair.
Doodling mindlessly into her notebook, her deep eyes watching her pen etched into the thin paper, she knew she don't belong here. See, Ivy could drive— barely —but could drive nonetheless: She had a stunning frost white audi, she had the license but her Latina mother had this strange fucking mindset as if Ivy driving in the morning is completely unsafe because 'her brain isn't fully awake'. So forth, she walked drenched in the tumultuous rain to school, thirty minutes late.
On an conventional day, the receptionist would've probably let her off; Ivy had a charming smile, perfect attendance, a high GPA and exceptional grades however; Rules are rules. No matter how much 'rules' right now, screwed her right over.
On the bright side, for the first fucking time, she finally understood the concept of detention. Before today, it would've been a complete different story. It's undeniably unquestionable to acknowledge that 99% of the time, it's the same students attending. Befuddled looking, edgy type of people who were labelled delinquents. If people aren't learning their mistakes, then detention is a shitty waste of effort? Pointless.
However, Ivy realised detention is specifically calibrated for people precisely like her; Embarrassingly goodie-two shoes, demure and puritanical students.
Detention felt like an eternal anguish as each hour cackled dauntingly in her pretty face as she groaned mentally into the palms of her clammy hands ( Ivy is a little dramatic to say the least ). Glaringly obvious she didn't belong here nor would opt to ever return, finally serving the actual purpose of detention. Hopefully, the opportunity never arises again.
"Late again!" The administrator snapped, his hairy hand writing something probably bad down.
Ivy didn't half-realise the mahogany doorway was swung widely open, with a frazzled looking boy standing there, his backpack strap gripped in one hand, dripping rain water on the floorboards. The entire classroom sharply twisted their heads towards the front, including Ivy. She stared at him and her stomach just—Flipped.
Darker gingery—blonde undefined curls rambled against his pale forehead, half stuffed into a skull designed fitted cap feathering his high cheekbones. Underneath burnt oakwood eyes stare dauntingly at the administrator. A blazing vague obscurity following his pupils gaze; Miles and miles of mystery no detective would have the talent to uncover. Pretty roseate lips tugged into a disgruntled frown, his face resembled a Godlike renaissance painting that Ivy would love to paint in her free time. Definitely the cheekbones, and sloped nose that held that impression. Baggy black tee void of any printed design that hung loosely onto his lean torso, coordinated with his cargo pants, an outfit that Ivy eyed conspicuously.
"Do you not understand the concept of time? Or do you just like appearing fifty minutes into detention?" The administrator disappointedly shook his head yet his face betrayed the fact that he didn't expect much.
Shrugging simply, his stature lacking any ounce of care, his aura glowering with recklessness. Ivy almost admired his improvidence—However, she could never treat a teacher in that attitude, her politeness wouldn't ever physically allow it.
He was terrifyingly handsome—The type of boys Ivy's mother would scream at her to steer visibly clear from. However, she just couldn't keep her observance against him that clearly he payed no mind towards as he strode straight past her. If they even connected eyes, she was sure he would know exactly every thought that raided her brain. Admittedly she wasn't ogling at him. It was extremely hard for her to openly admit if she had a crush. He was more— fascinating to reconnoitre; This boy just seemed so unbothered and Ivy was just inquisitive, that's all. Is that so wrong?
"What's good, Vinnie!" A raspy voice welcomed the late comer behind Ivy.
Vinnie. Interesting. Ivy chanted that name mentally, Vinnie, Vinnie, Vinnie, the peculiarly attractive name rolled off the tongue. Casual name for a casual boy. Sounded Italian but Ivy wouldn't be able to tell, she's not great with that sort of thing.
The two friends clasped hands loudly in a warm friendship greeting, as Ivy rolled her eyes, her dainty hands clasping her inky pen frustratedly. Did they honestly have to be that damn loud?
"What are you doing over there?" A voice was a little too nearby to Ivy's ear, as she suppressed the urge to flinch. No stranger should ever be that close, there's such thing as personal fucking space.
She peered slowly behind her and is immediately faced with an impertinent face, Vinnie's supposed friend leaning directly off the table to examine Ivy's talented sketches.
Hmm, Strange. He was obviously very attractive but like, in a cheeky, self-indulgent way. His doe eyes reigned coffee brown piscina of acerbity. A permanent smirk goading and stirring at his full lips, that were a complimentary tone to his vermillion polo shirt. Dark chestnut curls flopped down, sporting a careless impetuous look before he disparaged an ivory hand through them, separating each loose coil. His voice matched his face so well: Raspy, snarky and heedless of strange charm.
"Nothing much." Ivy shrugged absentmindedly, twirling her thin pen between her thumb and index finger to distract herself.
"Mmh. Well I'm Mariano, Mariano Castano," He nodded his head slowly, pronouncing each syllable very carefully as if Ivy was mentally slow. "And this is Vinnie Hacker." Vinnie barely glanced from his dusky phone screen, his eyes unfocused and his fingers tapping away at the virtual keyboard. Ivy already gotten the impression that he is not very sociably friendly.
Holy shit. For the first time, Ivy felt so dumb. Like incredibly and stupendously dumb. First grade, unable to comprehend fucking things dumb. How can two boys make her feel this way first time meeting.
The thing is, Ivy wasn't stupid. In fact, she was a long way from stupid. Classed as one of top thirty students in seattle, her GPA skyrocketing past every single student in the room. She was incredibly intelligent, an intellectual who could willingly act like a smartass if she chose to. But she doesn't. It's not fun. So the fact that this boy is treating her like she was imbecilic felt highly disrespectful. Asshole. She suddenly felt this impending urge to leave as her cheeks flooded with rubicund. She hated it, her cheeks always easily rouged, giving her away.
"Wait. You're Ivy Dulce, aren't you?" Mariano smirked, developing a very collected realisation. His elbow nudged Vinnie twice in the arm, as if they shared a private joke between them. He coolly raises his head, scanned Ivy up and down like a pricetag and scoffed. Ouch.
Ivy bites the chewy part of her cheek in visible blighted hurt and nodded to answer his question. She felt wounded, her chest becoming harder to breathe through. She couldn't brush off the disrespectful look he had given her.
"Ohh, of course. It all makes sense."
Ivy cocked her pretty little head, "What's that supposed to mean?" Her sweet voice unable to hold as much aggression as she perhaps intended.
"Oh nothing. Just like, why are you here? Shouldn't you be applying for chess club, vice president or something?" Mariano bit his lip to stifle his laughter but Vinnie simpered, setting him off. They cackled loudly; Regardless of the administrator, who dangerously warned them through his crinkled eyes and the surrounding students who turned their head to view the fun.
What losers. Ivy rolled her eyes, and twisted back around to no longer face them. She huffs to herself, still hearing them chuckle to themselves. Why are boys so fucking mean? She didn't even say anything— she never did anything. She knew the somewhat hippie prestigious reputation she had but until this point, Ivy didn't necessarily mind it.
Ivy wore flowy skirts, planned to study English literature and Physics at university and fondly enjoyed homework in her spare time. She was an oddball, and overtime people noticed and she didn't care because no one ever really said anything to her. Maybe because she was pretty—Well she's oblivious to that but pretty privilege exists heavily here.
After the remaining hours, the administrator waved his hand: Detention was finally over, Ivy thanked the Heavens and packed up everything into the flowery backpack in a speedy manner, ensuring she was the first one out of that damn door.
Egregious rain soaked through the grey pavement, whilst the heavy clouds pandered in the measly looking sky. A black umbrella hovered over Ivy's curl adorned head, her messy ponytail occasionally catching onto the metal hooks. Her upturned eyes worriedly peered at the ominous sky for any sign of thunder, as she shivered in her fluffy cardigan.
"Ivy, right?"
Her name was said indifferently by a voice that was undeniably attractive, a casual voice at that. She flickered her eyes and encountered the boy from earlier. Vinnie. That's exactly why she was so confused, because she'd never actually heard him utter a fucking word. Denial was the only driving factor tenaciously persuading her that she wasn't fond of the sound of his low, ingratiating voice. Whew.
"Yes, obviously." Ivy faked being snippy but in her head, it came across as extremely shaky. Yikes. "Why are you talking to me?"
"Woah, chill out. Just because Mariano said a couple things doesn't mean you can act like a bitch to me." He fixed his soaked cap lower onto his smooth paned forehead, his words snipping at her sensitive heart.
A bitch. Wow.
Ivy discernibly blinked at the word, her mouth parting in shock. How fucking dare he? Who even is he? Ivy was partially speechless, her fingers twitching to slap the hell out of this asshole. They've met less than an hour ago and right now they're standing in the heavily pouring rain, his last sentence involving bitch. What a great first start.
"A bitch?" She embarrassingly stuttered, struggling to string together coherent words. "Why would you call me that when I don't even know you?"
Vinnie shook his head full of thoughts, fighting the amusement in his plush lips, "You're talking to me as if I'm below you— You really are one of those fucking rich, snobby kids."
"Well, I'm not exactly going to be stupidly courteous to you when you laughed at me in there."
Unbarring eye contact made with her, Vinnie's topaz irises squandered through her raven pupils, the honey-coloured flecks filled with curiosity as if trying to figure her out. A shudder wrapped around Ivy's spine, she mentally assured herself it was undoubtedly due to the icy droplets of cloudburst. It had to be, right? His inquiring eyes gave up rather quickly as Ivy's were guarded beyond his efforts, becoming murky with mist and unease. Hating to admit it but she was horribly intimidated, her eyes flickering to her wedges.
Squinting his eyes, his thick eyebrows furrow, "What is your problem with me?"
"What? You literally call me a bitch in our first conversation? You want me to give you sugar and hugs for that?" Ivy scoffed.
Vinnie did not like that scoff evidently. His broad shoulders slouched, crossing his arms frustratedly. The air shared between them brittle, each word shared between them digging into the fragile atmosphere.
"No wonder people don't like you." He stated under his breath, rubbed his wet nose, before strolling away in the rain.
Ivy's pouty mouth dropped, her delicate features contorting in annoyance. The fucking audacity. Thank God, flashing headlights blinded her, Ivy's mother pulling up in a sleek black Mercedes, the tires rolling against the gravelly wet road, the engine roaring in excitement.
Climbing into the leather passenger seat, Ivy stuffed the drenched umbrella onto the backseat and kneads her cold hands together for warmth.
"Hey, Mom."
"Ivy, who was that boy you were talking to?" Ivy's mother sounded sniffly, her thin nose prickled with red tint. Her tone was stern, her daughter careful to arrange her words so she doesn't hear an ongoing speech.
Ivy shrugged frivolously, correcting her light chestnut hair in the reflection of the murky window, her droopy pink lips tucked under her bottom row of teeth, "Nobody. Just some rude boy."
_____
( authors note )
ello geezers,
this is my first vinnie hacker
book, the first chapter
wasn't too boring, right ?
i know the writing is a bit much
but i tend to write a lot in a lot
of detail because I've written like
this for awhile now.
hereby that this book will have
detailed smut. a stupendous amount.
if you're uncomfortable with that
please move on or read the
chapters that won't have a symbol
next to the chapter name purr.
enjoy ;)
—parissa🌹