𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 (16+)

6. "A chemistry pariah."

(A/N: Ma! Look at me, I planned a book!)

"Cherish," Maya chirps through the window, "you keep doing this. C'mon out the car."

I dry away the tears of discomfort from not having blinked in a minute or two. Rubbing my eyes, I shift in the drivers seat of my car. Maya is standing outside, happy as ever, smiling as if she'd just seen a puppy eating a flower. Or some poop, I don't think she'd react differently either way.

"Cherish, open the door. You're staring."

"Oh, right," I mumble as I get out my car, closing the door behind me. "I'm still half asleep," I explain. I am so not a morning person. Waking up too early, and then not being able to fall asleep again kills a part of your soul, I'm sure.

"Did you wake up early, too?" She asks with wide eyes. I nod at her.

"Yeah, I did. Why'd you wake up early?"

"I had a sex dream about One Direction," she says with a devious smirk and mischivious glints in her brown eyes. "It was naughty, too."

"Oh, really? Same."

Maya gasps. "Are you serious?"

"No." I grin, "I'm not, but I support your fantasy of getting gang-banged by them."

"I didn't eve- You're always so supportive, Cherish. What would I do without you?" Her tone is sarcastic and flat.

"Drown in your deep shame of watching an edited gay porno of Louis and Harry," I grin.

She blushes. "It was one time. One time. It wasn't even on purpose."

"Yeah, the website just happened to lead you in the wrong direction," I say flatly. She turns even more pink.

"You're awful. Just awful. I'm never telling you anything ever again," she exclaims, pointing an accusionary finger at me.

"Uh-huh. Sure, Maya."

Student body Council Member Maya Johnson is the definition of an oversharer, although I don't mind it at all. It's amusing. Especially when she rants about what sex-toy was too expensive to buy or which family member she'd let fall down into a herd of startled wildebeests.

She was about to retaliate, but shut her mouth immidiately. Her eyes roaming my body as they shone with appreciation. I was wearing nineties styled black dad jeans matched with a tight white undershirt. A pair of dirty white converse adorning my feet. She groans loudly.

"You're so pretty, Cherish. Please tell me, that you're not straight."

I grin, "for you, I'm not." My expression teasing and light. "I would choose you over men any day."

"You're so sweet," she coo's, "although I'd choose anything over men at this point. They're just so-," she shudders dramatically, a grim expression on her face.

I nod solemnly, giving a 'mhm' in agreement.

Both of our attentions get caught by a brawl around fifty meters away, nearing the entrance of the school. As we walk away from the parking lot, we consequently get closer to the fight. My eyebrows furrow at the two familiar people pounding their fists frantically onto whatever limb they can reach.

Luca and Matthew. Fighting. At 7.42AM.

I look around at the students walking past them without as much as a second glance. Others stand in their respective groups talking calmly, ignoring them completely.

"Does this happen often?" I ask Maya, my eyes on the altercation.

"Yeah, it's a weekly thing," she shrugs nonchalantly.