Celia Heart was in two words; my saving grace.
Completely refreshing and honest. No hint of fear or worse yet condescending disgust at my "sordid affairs" that were so none of her business.
But rich people newsletters were rich newsletters.
Turns out the new 'bad girl' enrolling was the hot tea nowadays.
"I swear you topped number two for hottest dish."
"And let me guess number one," I said in a smug note of triumph.
"Jared," we both replied.
"What is with people?" I asked genuinely unaware. "He's just a dude and if you ask me, men are just a waste. Of. Time."
Celia shrugged. "Got me Harley."
Then a bit of chocolate spilled on her prim, smoothed skirt.
I stared, waiting for the shrieking and/or wailing to begin.
Rather, Celia swiped an equally prim finger wiping away the mess. "Lucky I only broke my leg," Celia giggled.
"How did you do that?" I ventured.
"Well--"
The bell cut her off, "oh well tell you at lunch. Bye Harley."
With a wave she rolled, only to bump into a decent looking boy. Celia laughed in a manner that punched me with nostalgia. How many times did me or my friends flirtatiously giggle to the simplest compliments over newly mint outfits or accessories. "Mind giving me a hand?"
For all the short circuited nerves of a hormonal teen boy Celia had also guaranteed quality service who wouldn't allow a ruined hairstyle.
Leaving me obsolete and head to my own first class.
YOU ARE READING
Cinder-saster
General FictionThere was once a man whose dutiful work made him very wealthy. He ran a car manufacturer of high demand and quality assurance. However his true wealth was in a vivacious wife and a darling daughter whose beauty... Bleh! Boring! Based! Harley Scott i...
