Quick note: if you made this graphic pls message me! I think you changed your username but I'd love to give you a dedication <3
S i x : No Paint, No Gain
"Erika, are you listening?"
I quickly avert my gaze from the clock at the front of the classroom and smile apologetically at Ellis. He's the line-backer of the football team, and Dylan introduced us. Stocky build, warm brown eyes and a jaw too rounded to be objectively hot but firmly situates him in the sweetly handsome category. He's sweet and I should be focused on what he's saying, not watching every minute tick by like a maniac.
So why are you so distracted?
"I'm so sorry, El," I murmur, closing my notebook. "I'm a bit out of it today."
"It's alright." He bumps his elbow against mine playfully. "Can I help?"
"I don't think so."
Before I can stop it, my gaze flits back up to the clock on the wall. It's five minutes to noon now, and I need to leave to meet Chase. Nevertheless, my body is refusing to co-operate and I haven't moved an inch. Why am I not moving?
Around me, the ambient noise suddenly feels louder. Every hushed conversation, every scribble of Biro on paper, every book page slicing through the air suddenly feels incriminating. This is the part where I get up, meet Chase and catch him vandalising Mr Blythe's car. This is the harsh end- so why don't I want to do it?
"Miss Monroe?" My teacher, an elder woman with a nice smile, looks at me with raised eyebrows. "Is there a reason you're not working?"
I clear my throat and force myself into action after several seconds of staring aimlessly at the wall. "Sorry, Miss, I'm just not feeling very well."
For added effect, I place a hand on my stomach. I can see Ellis' concerned expression in my peripheral vision, but I stare forwards determinedly. This is it. Don't shy away now.
Mrs Taylor's eyebrows seemed to have disappeared into her hairline at my lack of sassy comment. "Would you like to go to the nurse's office, Erika?"
"Yes, thank you."
I clutch my stomach in fake pain, the weight of my class' gazes heavy on my back as I pack my things hurriedly. Nodding a quick goodbye to Ellis, I rush my way to the front of the classroom before I can cower out of this terrible decision. My breath doesn't release until I'm standing outside, in the cooler hallway. Get it over with.
I walk as quickly as I can, focusing my mind on the slap of my sneakers on the floor to distract from the sickening twist of guilt in my stomach. My phone feels hot in my back pocket, like a weapon that I'm trying to hide.
Only when I finally reach the bike sheds do my steps slow. Hidden from the view of windows, the bike shed is notorious for smokers at lunchtime and couples that want to make out. The structure itself is old and rotting, with a padlock on the door and a window meshed with spider's webs.
I grit my teeth as I sneak around the exterior. Where the hell is Chase?
"You came, then."
I jump at the voice behind me and the warm breath tickling my ear. After a few seconds of cold surprise, my expression morphs into a scowl and I whirl around to face the dark-haired asshole snickering unashamedly at my reaction.
"That's funny," I snap, pressing a hand over my thumping heart. "I thought it was only spiders that hang out near this shed, but clearly there's snakes too."
Chase snickers again, leaning against the shed and crossing his ankles casually. "If I'm a snake then you're the bunny. Who knew you could jump so high?"
My frown deepens at his amusement, and the sickly feeling of guilt in my stomach ebbs a little with my irritation. I cross my arms over my chest. "I'm here, I managed to get out of class- now can you tell me what the plan is? How are we supposed to spray paint the Principal's car in the middle of the day without being seen?"
"Well, I have the spray paint," Chase gestures to a black holdall sitting on the ground to our left. "We just have to choose the right moment and be speedy about it."
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
My voice is unmistakably wary. After all, if I get caught doing this, what is Blythe going to think? As if to reassure myself, my hand hovers over my phone in my pocket, the camera facing outwards. When we get caught, it's going to be on my terms. I don't owe Chase anything and I won't ever see him again. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
"In precisely..." Chase lifts his phone and checks the time. "Two minutes, the receptionist will be on his coffee break. He has a fifteen-minute break. Blythe has parked in the same space everyday so far: directly outside of the office. No other window will see us, and the camera above the reception door hasn't worked since before summer. We have a fifteen-minute gap to get in, do some damage and leave."
"Wow," I mutter. "You're smarter than you look, Thatcher."
Chase kneels to rifle through the contents of the black bag. I watch nervously as he draws out four silver spray cans and places them on the ground beside him. He seems to sense my apprehension, because he smirks at me as he holds up two cans for me to take. That smirk only grows when I hesitate for a few seconds before taking them.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask, my lip sliding between my teeth.
Chase quirks an eyebrow up, rolling a can between his hands. "Why not?"
"I could give you lots of reasons," I murmur, glancing down at the spray paint in my hands. I decide to move the conversation on. "So, how come I'm stuck with pink and purple?"
"Because blue and green are mine." Chase says simply. "Now after we do this, we need to throw the cans away. We can't leave any traces so be careful not to get any onto your clothes too. Have you ever used spray paint before?"
"No," I say honestly. "Haven't really needed to before now."
Chase stands up from the floor in one fluid movement, kicking the bag under a bush and turning to face me. His fingers switch onto the buttons of the two cans, and I automatically wince and shy away, thinking he's going to spray me.
"You're an idiot," Chase sighs. "Did I not just tell you we shouldn't have paint on our clothes? I'm not going to spray you. I'm just showing you how to use the cans."
"I'm not an imbecile- I know how to use one." I glower at Chase, "I have this amazing thing called hairspray at home: looks just like it."
"Stop being a smart-ass. It's irritating."
"Only if you stop manstruating." I snap back. "It's been two minutes now, I'm pretty sure we can go. Unless you've forgotten the fifteen-minute gap?"
As if to prove my point, I roll the cans between my fingers and put my pointer fingers on the activating buttons. All I'd have to do would be to apply a little pressure, and Chase would be covered in a hot pink spray. Hey, that's a way I could get him caught. I consider my idea for a second, but it's probably not going to happen. If Chase saw any of my paint on him, he'd just spray me back. The video is my plan- I'll stick to it.
I follow Chase's lead as we creep to the side of the shed and he scours the car park for any sight of activity. My pulse begins to quicken, until I can almost hear the thrumming in my ears. Just this one recording, and then it's over. Slipping a paint can under my arm, I reach for my phone and begin to navigate the screen to turn on my video recorder.
Before I can even unlock the damn thing, Chase darts away from our hiding place and out across the parking lot. I curse, fumbling to shove my phone back into my pocket before I sprint across the tarmac after him. It's only a small sprint, but I collapse breathless beside him at the side of Mr Blythe's car: a silver and undoubtedly expensive Mercedes.
Which you are about to vandalise.
We're positioned by the front bonnet of the car, and the reception window is situated on our left. Where I'm chewing my lip at the sight of the camera above the door, Chase is attempting to peer into the window to check for signs of the office staff.
"I don't think anyone is in there." He says quietly. "Let's do this."
My mouth drops open as he stands up, in full view, and shakes one of the cans. It makes clicking noises in quick succession, and I almost wince at the sound.
"My heart is beating so fast," I mutter. "How are you doing this?"
Chase grins down at me. "Gorgeous, anything which gets your blood racing is probably worth doing."
I stare at him in surprise for a few seconds, before hesitantly rising to my feet. I feel very exposed, standing up in the lot with the evidence in my red, red hands, but I bite back the feeling. Chase is watching me, a smirk playing on his lips. My cue.
Before I can overthink it, I press my fingers down on both spray cans, watching as jets of hot pink and purple begin to coat the silver exterior. It dawns on me that I haven't even considered what I want to paint. My hands seize up in panic and I release the buttons, leaving a stripe of each colour on the side of the car. Chase, beside me, is in the process of outlining a large navy penis on the bonnet. Immature, I admit, but a bit of a classic.
My hands are shaking with nerves. Excitement. Adrenaline. Something.
"Are you just going to stand there or are you actually going to paint something?"
Chase's voice snaps me out of my daze, and I force myself to continue. I try to dispel my anxieties, my morals, my excitement and focus on each vibrant line of colour. I write a simple wobbly curse word in hot pink, matching Chase's vulgar drawing perfectly. It's only as I finish going over the K with purple shadow that the worries catch up with me.
I need to record this; I need to get it over with.
Glancing warily at Chase on the other side of the car, I place the spray cans down and reach into my pocket for my phone. The screen is hot and hard to see in the sunlight. Scooping a hand over it to dim the light, I almost curse aloud at the sight I'm greeted with. The apple logo, and a thin loading bar.
My phone is doing updates.
"Crap." I mutter, sliding the useless thing back into my pocket. I need to stop this spray painting before someone sees me; especially now that I can't get the proof. Yet, when I glance down at the can on the floor, I feel a small twinge of excitement in my chest. Some self-sabotaging, adrenaline-junkie part of my brain is enjoying this danger.
So, with my heart pounding and a grin threatening to break out on my face, I pick up the spray cans from the floor and resume painting. Every nerve in my chest is fizzing with anticipation, the logical side of my brain is screaming at me in protest, and is it all worth it for a couple of wobbly purple daisies? Oddly, yes. A bubble of laughter escapes my chest.
Chase is grinning too. "You like?"
"I love."
I bite my lip and watch as the last of the pink paint sputters out onto the car. I could mark Chase with paint, I could get him expelled without a camera...but as I look over at him, I can't imagine doing so. He looks happy.
Damn you, Erika, for feeling guilty.
The warm feeling dies the second I hear the shrill ring of a phone from somewhere nearby. An icy shiver runs down my spine and I look at Chase in unmasked horror. It's getting louder, someone is approaching. Chase ducks down on his side of the car, and I follow suit, before crawling around to meet him in the middle. The cans suddenly feel like branding irons in my hands.
Well, this is it. You're both being expelled now, Erika, well done.
The ringtone cuts off suddenly- has the person seen us?
"We need to go." Chase hisses to me. "We need to go, now."
"How are we going to do that without being seen?"
The corner of Chase's mouth lifts into a crooked smile, and the panic ebbs away from my expression. He's done this before, I realise. He can get us out of this.
"Follow me," he whispers. Before I can even nod, he darts away from the car and across the car park, leaning over to keep out of sight. Cursing under my breath, I follow suit, running from shadow to shadow and not daring to look up for the fear of being seen. The light on my back feels like a spotlight, and my breathing is ragged. Chase and I race from car to car, and that's when I notice where he is leading us.
"We're headed for the exit?" I whisper incredulously. "Is that not the most obvious thing in the world-if we're not in half of the day and Mr Blythe's car is spray painted?"
Chase comes to a stop by a red car, less than five metres from the exit gates. He presses his back against the door, and I flop down beside him breathlessly.
"Relax gorgeous," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "Everybody sneaks out at this time because the receptionist isn't on duty. Nobody is going to see, or know it was us."
I continue to stare at him doubtfully and he continues.
"I know at least five other people who are skipping today," he says, his voice adopting a calm, reasoning tone. I'm almost surprised by how reassuring he's being. That is, until that lofty grin appears. "I must say, it's cute that you're getting so paranoid. I almost forgot that you're a newbie at all of this."
"We left our bags behind the shed," I point out, ignoring his latter comment.
"We'll collect them at the end of the day."
"What are we doing with the paints?"
"We'll ditch them in a nearby trash can. Stop worrying."
I huff out a loud breath. "Then stop worrying me."
"Are you ready to make a run for it?" Chase bumps my shoulder with his own, his expression wicked with mischief. A thrill of excitement races through my chest.
Surprising even myself, I nod and turn my gaze towards the school gates.
"Let's do this."
A/N: This is the first official update to this book in years and I am e x c i t e d ! What did you all think of the chapter? No paint, no gain amiright ;)
Next dedication will go to a commenter <3