One

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Chapter One


My lips slowly wrap around the cherry sucker, the rough buds of my tongue scraping along the sour candy, and I twirl the paper stick between my manicured fingers. I let my narrowed eyes scan the busy campus, humid air brushing past my cheeks.

"Cam," Paige snaps her fingers in front of my face and I recoil, glaring at her. "What's up with you? You're zoning out like crazy."

Sliding the lollipop out from between my lips with a sickening 'pop', I lick the inner seam of their plump shape. "It's nothing, Paige. Go back to sexting with Brandon."

"Ugh—" She groans, rolling her eyes and grabbing her lemon water. "You're so bitchy."

When I pause, my fingers gingerly wrapping around the stick and spinning it with venom, Paige suddenly flashes me a smile, playing off her comment as one of sarcasm. "And that is surprising to you, how?"

She laughs awkwardly, brushing her red hair away from her round eyes. "I-I was just kidding."

"Mhm . . ." I hum, plopping the sucker back in my mouth and shifting it inside the right corner of my cheek, picking up my phone. Messages and notifications swarm on the screen, leaving me to unlock my phone and ignore them, not having the time nor the energy to care.

Instead, I open up random Snapchats and screenshot any dick pictures I get, just to scare the boy for fun. Then, I open my camera roll and delete them with a grimace, making sure there is no trace of any hairy organ on my phone.

"God," I murmur, scrolling through my phone before setting it down and leaning back, one leg crossed over the other. "Men are fucking disgusting."

"Yeah, yeah." Paige rushes back, her glowing eyes stuck on her phone. I stare at her, my eyes burning holes into the side of her head, and she slowly looks up. "I agree."

"You agree with what?" I muse, leaning forward and taking a long, slow sip of my laxative lemon tea. "Hm?"

"The, uh—the—" Paige stammers, clicking her fingers together. I don't take pity on the girl. "I agree with you on, um . . ."

"Yeah," I snort, nodding my head and grabbing my bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I stand. "Totally."

 Rolling my eyes, I step away from the bench and saunter away from my 'friend', making my way towards the entrance of Hartford High. I have grown up in Hartford, Connecticut—living around the city, walking to the beach, keeping up with my family's social status (which they should not have, seeing as we are nowhere near rich or wealthy), and becoming the person I am today.

I will admit; it has not been easy. Sometimes I become exhausted with who I am forcing myself to be. All of the diets, the parties, the games, the 'friendships'. But, to be honest, this is the only thing keeping me afloat when the tide pulls in, tugging me further and further away from shore.

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