Happy Pills

HP: 1.

Her blouse was unstained ivory, silky and pressing flatteringly against her stomach, and the cool sleeves rolled down her arms, dangling at her wrists. Purple nails flashed as deft fingers fixed the plaid skirt hanging above her knees, and her sandal-adorned feet hesitantly stepped forward. Placing her palm at the base of her neck, she closed her blue eyes and took a deep breath.

"You can do this, Jessica. It is going to be sexual and weird, and perhaps very awesome, and oh, so wrong and awkward in so many ways, but the school is counting on you. Doing this will NOT make you a creep. It will make you the heroine of this ratty story that is your life. DO IT."

"God, even my breath goes for it," she muttered, pushing open the door rather than knocking. PRINCIPAL was written across its criss-crossed window in bold, black letters. "My body kind of wants to, too, even if it's...iffy."

Her blond hair curled around her shoulders, gold and framing a pretty face free of makeup. Freckles sprinkled the bridge of her small nose, which wore black glasses square- and thick-framed. She walked around the corner of the wall which kept the actual office hidden after smoothing over her blouse and skirt again.

"Hi there, Principal," she greeted the young man sitting behind the desk.

His huge office chair, supposed to be mocking of the President of America's or at least she guessed it was, faced the paneled, wooden wall, and his black hair showed above the black leather. It was a wonder the messy curls didn't blend in. His green eyes burned through her when he twisted around, and she felt a swift punch to her stomach. I don't want to do this! her mind screamed, but her body turned to liquid as his eyes looked over her body coolly like hers were his. He was wearing an opened black suit jacket over a white button-up, and his tie was navy, untied and dangling from his neck. His desk was cluttered with papers, the intercom button blaring red between the phone and a stapler.

That stapler is going to have to move, she decided. Don't want to accidentally staple myself or something.

She'd rehearsed this enough with her friends, and a majority of the school, so she knew the skit perfectly. But nervousness still swirled around in her stomach. What if he rejected her? He was so damn hot, after all. Chastising herself by remembering her friends thought him at least twenty-five - which, if he wasn't, they were in for a hell of a lot of fucking trouble because she would've done all this for fucking nothing.

"Hello. You are Jessica Yurk, I believe?" he asked. His voice was low, and there was a surprisingly smoky touch to it, or maybe she was too deep down into her hormones and was now imagining sultry voices.

At least he knows my name. "Yes, I am. I was wondering if you could.... help me with something." She smiled crookedly, raising the right corner more than the left, and stifled the giggle in her mind. She remembered the way her friends had teased her about her flirty smile.

"What would that be?" His green eyes flickered to where her cleavage showed, her buttons being mostly unbuttoned, and it was so quick she wouldn't have seen it if she wasn't looking.

I think I have him. She struggled not to smile broader or break into laughter, and she moved slowly across the room and set her palms on his desk. Spreading them apart, she leaned forward. "Well..." she began in a whisper, trailing her voice off. She batted her lashes and met his gaze - after it took a dive at her open blouse. A quiet laugh rolled off her tongue, and she leaned slightly closer, meeting his gaze. Her heart fluttered like a butterfly trapped in a cage, and heat flushed her skin. His gaze was just so damn green, and potent. "How am I supposed to talk when you're staring at my chest? Wouldn't you rather touch?" He raised a dark eyebrow, and she urged him, staring right into his eyes. "Come on, Principal. What's the harm?"