I hate myself for how much I love his touch, for how much I’ve missed it and when I shove past him, my body grieves the loss of the warmth of his fingers that was seeping through the fabric of my school uniform.
I walk the short distance to the bus stop and Tuna’s car follows me closely.
Luckily the bus arrives straight away but Tuna doesn't give up and flanks the bus with his car all the way to school.
By the time I walk to the main entrance, Tuna is walking quietly by my side, never averting his hazel eyes from me.
I’ve got to stop by my locker to get the notepads I need for today's classes and he stops closely behind me.
I turn and when I speak, I try to sound as annoyed as possible but I hate how shaky my voice really sounds.
“Creep.”
His stony expression doesn't change.
“Yup! I seriously don't care if I look like a creep. I’ll follow you until you let me explain. Until we talk.”
“I’ve nothing to say to you.”
Our first period today is home room and while I’m reading for our next English Lit assignment, Tuna’s name gets called to report to the teacher's lounge.
With all that happened, I totally forgot that today he's supposed to sit that make up exam for Ms. Webber's class.
He looks at me on the way out of the classroom and I hate myself for caring, for still hoping that he passes.
But my eyes remain glued to my book: I need to fake it until I make it and those three boys will only be a memory.
Until I’ll be able to think about them like my first, big mistake.
Tuna passes his make up test with flying colours and I know because he texts me.
Tuna: I passed! I got an A-! It's all because of you, Ayla. Thank you. I love you.
His words are like a dagger straight to my heart: they make me happy and incredibly sad at the same time.
I can't face anyone right now: so I spend the whole lunch period crying in the girls bathroom.
The rest of the week, my life seems stuck in a repetitive loop, like Groundhog Day.
One of the guys trails me everywhere: it's as if they were doing surveillance shifts.
And while seeing them upsets me, it comforts me at the same time.
I know it's fucked up and I also know that this feeling is dangerous because it means that I haven't even started to move on but there's nothing I can do to change the situation.
A part of me hopes that sooner or later they'll be the ones to move on and another part of me dreads that moment because then I’ll have to face the music.
On Friday, we have our Latin Literature final for this first semester.
Ms. Webber personally distributes the sheets of paper with the passage assigned for translation.
It’s something talking about nature, plants and birds and their qualities and mating rituals.
It's about twenty five lines and I’m really surprised that the final consists of such an easy passage.
We also have Physics and History finals and the last period is Spanish for which we’ve already sat a final at the beginning of the week, so the teacher has decided to have a little ‘fiesta’ to celebrate the imminent Christmas break and has brought lots of Spanish and South American traditional Christmas sweets.
I take a cookie and sit with Jenna and Char, as far away from the A-Team as possible but I feel the boys’ gazes on me constantly and that totally takes away my appetite.
I haven't eaten much since I found out about the bet and my uniform is starting to already feel loose.
Jenna notices and says:
“Ayla, you aren't eating.”
I tell her that it's the stress of all the finals taking away my appetite but we both know that it's total bullshit and thankfully my besties let this one slide.
The teacher tells us the names of all the sweets and then she lets us chat away.
It feels like a mini Christmas party and up until last week, this would’ve been fun but now I can't wait for the bell so I can go home and not have to see my three tormentors until after New Year.
But about ten minutes before the bell, there's a knock on the classroom door and Ms. Webber comes in followed by our principal Mr. McArthur, the vice principal Ms. Hart and our IT sciences teacher Mr. Benson.
They talk briefly with Ms. Mendoza and then Ms. Webber addresses the class.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please?”
She explains how she's pleased with everyone's efforts in her class this semester and how everyone has maintained or improved their grades.
“I graded all your papers and emails will go out by the end of today, so you'll be able to enjoy your holiday break, knowing you’ve done well. However, there's one sad note before we part ways until the New Year. Some improvements in grades were truly remarkable and while I have the utmost faith in what hard work and dedication can achieve, at the same time, I always watch the students who improve dramatically a little closer. I’m afraid to say, that on this occasion, I suspected foul play and today, I’ve been able to prove that someone in this class has managed to get ahold of the tests I’ve been assigning ahead of time and obviously obtained a translation that was then passed as their own work.”
Most of the class gasps in disbelief, including Char and Jenna but the guys and EM look my way, with knowing expressions on their faces.
Michelle seems completely untouched by Ms. Webber's statement and keeps munching on the fruitcake on her plate.
“I’m very disappointed in the fact that cheating has happened in the A-Class. This has always been BHPA’s brightest and proudest group.”
Mr. McArthur’s voice is serious and stern.
“Cheating is cause for immediate expulsion from this Academy. Miss Marks, please collect your things: you're no longer a student at this school.”
Michelle doesn't rise from her seat and stares at the group of faculty with open animosity.
“I’m not going anywhere! I’m gonna call my daddy and his lawyer! You’ve no proof I did anything wrong! That fucking old bitch has had it out for me since day one!”
She says sneering at Ms. Webber.
Our teacher smiles, seemingly untouched by Michelle's venom.
“I beg to differ, Miss Marks. I do have proof and since I suspected that you would request to see it before relieving us of your presence, I brought it with me.”
She shows the class two different versions of the Latin passage that was assigned to us today.
“This is the assignment that was given out to everyone: it consists of twenty five lines. And it was the assignment that has been sitting in my locker for the last two weeks. This, however is the assignment that I personally gave you, Miss Marks. If you count the lines, you’ll only find twenty three. I cut out a list that the author made with the names of the birds that were sacred to several divinities. It was simply ten names of birds in the singular nominative case. It was omitted from your assignment but you became overconfident in the fact that you’d been getting away with cheating for this long and didn't bother to check the translation you memorised against the assigned passage. So you wrote down the translation for the two lines that weren't on your exam paper. If this isn't proof enough, Miss Marks, Mr. Benson can provide you with footage from the extra CCTV camera recently installed in the teachers lounge where you can be clearly seen unlocking my locker and stealing the tests.”
This time Michelle stands up and she does it so violently that her chair ends up on the floor with a loud noise.
“This is fucking bullshit! The way you obtained this so called evidence certainly can't be legal! My daddy’s lawyer will find a way to get it thrown out in court because you're getting fucking sued and we won't stop until this school is bankrupt and you all lose your pathetic jobs! I’m not going anywhere until the bell, as far as I’m concerned your proof is bullshit!”
Ms. Webber doesn't lose her composure.
“Miss Marks, we also have the testimony
of five of your peers who can attest that you stole the tests and also offered them to other students in exchange for dubious favours. I seriously advise you to leave before this gets any worse and the police are called.”
“You’re bluffing!”
She yells defiantly.
“She isn't. You asked for my help to steal the tests!”
This is EM.
“You offered me the tests in exchange for help with your schemes.”
Tuna.
“You’re going down with me! Tuna, Alex and Sam have been bullying Ayla this whole time! They bet on who’d have sex with her first. I have proof!”
She wields her phone like a weapon and presses play.
I brace myself: I don't think I’ll ever be ready to hear Alex’s voice explain the rules of that bet again.
But no sound comes out of Michelle's phone.
“What the fuck? How's this possible? My phone is dead!”
EM has a satisfied smile on his face: I recall him saying that he was working on a virus capable of wiping out someone’s whole phone, data and apps with the press of a button.
“This is a conspiracy! They're all against me because they're fucking jealous of my wealth and my beauty! They all cheated too! And Alex and Ayla planned the whole thing to begin with! I was just a pawn in their plan—”
Ms. Webber shakes her head.
“Miss Marks, your reaction isn't becoming of a wealthy and proper young lady like you claim you are. And you just admitted in front of the whole class that you did in fact cheat. Please, leave before we’re forced to call law enforcement to have you removed from school premises. Oh, and one last thing ... The Dean of Admissions at Yale just called me this morning to let me know that most of the people who interviewed with her last weekend will receive a personal recommendation from her, which translates into automatic admission. I’m afraid you won't be included since you declined to even sit down with her. Have a Merry Christmas, Miss Marks. I hope this will be a time for reflection on the things that you need to change in your attitude.”
Michelle jumps towards our teacher with her claws drawn out.
“You Twunt!”
But Alex and EM are ready to stop her and to escort her out kicking and screaming helped by Sam and Tuna and followed by the principal and the rest of the faculty in the room.
When the bell goes off, marking the official start of our Christmas break, I accept Char’s offer of a ride home.
“I could take you, Ayla.”
I shake my head at Jenna: she hasn't been speaking to EM because of his role in the bet.
“Go make up with your boyfriend. I know you're still mad at him but he never truly took part in that bet. And do you wanna blame him for being scared of Alex and doing as he was told? He isn't different than any other student at BHPA. And I say that his help in catching Michelle redhanded is enough redemption. He loves you and you two have been waiting long enough to be together. Just go. I’m ok with Char and I’d rather go before Alex and the others come back.”
I SPEND MY FRIDAY NIGHT alone in my room: I know there must be a party somewhere and I imagine the boys have moved on, maybe dancing or flirting with another girl.
I know it's unfair because they tried to talk to me and I’ve been avoiding them but at the same time it wasn't me treating them like an object, right?
I can't concentrate on anything: every movie makes me cry because the most random things remind me of them, books are the same.
I’m staying away from social media because if they're at a party, if there's hot girls tempting them, I don't wanna see it.
It would probably help me move on but I don't think my heart could bear it right now.
Mom and Ben aren't home, I know that if I text Jenna or Char, they'll probably force me to go out with them and they say that misery loves company but mine’s an antisocial bitch and I end up laying down on my bed staring at my bedroom ceiling.
Even that proves too much because my mind inevitably drifts off to memories of the boys: Alex’s bruising kisses, Sam’s intense eyes, Tuna’s sexy hands ...
I groan in frustration: I need to do something to keep my mind off them and the heartache I feel mixed with the emptiness where they once used to be.
I also hate myself all the more for being one of those girls who fall apart when her relationship doesn't work out.
Sure, this is three breakups in one but is it really all I am?
Their ex-girlfriend?
Isn't there more to me than just the lack of them by my side?
My phone starts ringing: Alex wants to FaceTime.
It's only ten pm.
Does this mean that he isn't at some wild party?
It doesn't matter: there's nothing he can say to change what's happened and I don't think I can ever trust any of them again.
So I turn my phone off and hide under my comforter waiting for sleep to come and claim my overly tired mind.
The Saturday starts the same way Friday ended: I stay under the covers, hiding from the world.
I’m tempted to turn my phone on to check if the school has sent out the results of this week’s finals but I don't trust myself not to go and check out all my social media, where I know that I’ll see photos of whatever the guys were up to last night.
And I’m simply not ready.
I know Mom will also get an email with the finals results, so I’ll ask her tonight: I recall her saying that she didn't have to work.
I spend the day in bed, doing some of the homework our teachers assigned to ease us into the next semester.
I hear Mom coming home but I don't leave my room until the smell of her delicious lasagna comes wafting upstairs.
My stomach growls protesting the fact that since Monday night, I’ve hardly eaten anything.
So I reluctantly make my way downstairs to help set the table.
Ben is already munching on a piece of garlic bread and Mom passes me a salad to set on the dinner table.
“Hey baby girl, I just received an email from your school: you got As on every single exam! I can't believe how hard you’ve worked. Well done!”
She hugs me and I hold her tight: I know that she's proud of me but she's my role model through and through.
“Ayla, aren't you gonna change for dinner?”
“No. Why?”
I look at my black leggings and my old faded green t-shirt while I notice that Mom actually looks absolutely gorgeous in a dark red floral dress and matching wedges.
Why is she dressed up for a dinner at home with me and Ben?
I’m about to ask my question out loud when the doorbell rings.
“That's why. Your boyfriend’s here. Remember? We’d agreed to invite him over for dinner?”
“My... My boyfriend? Alex?”
Mom doesn't pick up on the panic in my voice.
“Yes. Who else? Have you got any other boyfriends? Go on, open the door, you silly girl! All that studying must have turned your brain to mush.”
Any other boyfriends ... If only she knew!
I run to the door and my eyes almost fill with tears when I see how handsome Alex looks in a dark blue shirt that matches the colour of his eyes and a pair of dark washed jeans that draw attention to his long, athletic legs.
He’s got a huge bouquet of wild flowers and as soon as he sees me, a smile appears on his face, illuminating his already gorgeous features.
My heart’s beating so fast that I’m surprised I don't pass out.
“What are you doing here?”
His smile widens a little.
“I was invited.”
“Not by me!”
I answer stubbornly and he concedes.
“True. Your Mom invited me.”
“Well you need to go! She invited my boyfriend. Obviously she didn't know that we're no longer together.”
I guess stubbornness is something Alex and I have in common because he doesn't move but retorts.
“Says you ...”
> “Yes! Of course I say that!”
He shrugs.
“Well, I disagree. You can't break up with me if I’m not on board with it.”
Is this guy for real?
“Yes, I can. And we’re over.”
“We’re over when I say we're over. And we’re not even close to being over.”
I clench my fists: he’s so damn frustrating!
“Oh, I see. Is this like when you told me that I was going on a date with you?”
He smirks: why does he have to look so hot?
“It's exactly like that time. I love you, Ayla. And we're working this out.”
“You’ve no fucking idea what love is, if you could make that bet. And there's nothing to work out.”
“We can argue all you want but at least we're talking.”
He's right: we are.
“Just go away, Alex. Please ...”
I beg.
He takes a step in my direction and crushes my lips with his before I even realise what's happening.
And I know that I have to walk away, I know that I’ll pay for this because it’ll be harder to move on if I don't let the memory of his kisses fade.
But I let myself have this kiss for a few seconds, just a few seconds when our mouths are fused together, his tongue is caressing mine and my hands grab his shirt into tight fists.
I feel his furious heartbeat beneath my fingers and his kiss is just as furious, as if by taking my mouth aggressively, he could affirm that I still belong to him.
Our first kiss had this same violence and he bit me, drawing blood.
This time I bite him, hard.
I want to make him bleed, I want him to feel my pain, to know how much he hurt me.
The front door opens and we part immediately: Mom is looking at us with an amused smile on her face.
“Good evening, Alex. Are you gonna come in?”
Before he can say anything, I blurt
“He can't stay! He's gotta go.”
Mom looks at me in disbelief and Alex has the nerve to chuckle dismissively.
“Nonsense! I’m looking forward to dinner.”
I glare at him with my scariest scathing look.
“You just said you had something come up—”
His grin widens.
“Nothing could keep me away from a home cooked meal and two gorgeous ladies tonight.”
Beverly Hills Prep Academy The Complete Boxset : A Light Bully Romance Page 29