Nikolas

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next four periods, and lunch, I'm introduced to all kind of people. Mostly jocks and cheerleaders who seem way too mature for their age. Well, sexually mature, their mental state may be worse than teens going through puberty. 

They're all nice to me. It's something I'll never get used to. Just because of who my step-dad is, no matter how much of a fucking monster he is, they treat me better. I'd seen the way they pushed around the less fortunate kids, but me being my fucked up self, I couldn't say anything, sort of happy that for once I wasn't being treated like the gum on the bottom of people's shoes. 

How fucked up was that? Sometimes I wanted to reach in my brain and fix it. 

Jocks hit on me, making Vivianne swat them away and cheerleaders offer me their social media, something I reveal I don't have. Which surprises most of them. I keep it like that, not wanting to be introduced to something I didn't have the time to be distracted with at home. They call me lame but  who the fuck cares. 

"Can you believe we all have different classes the last two periods?" Elodie laughs. I realized that out of the four of them, she talks the most, Lola's a selective mute, Olivia only talks to make a sarcastic comment and Vivianne is just a bubbly fountain of materialistic words. It's amusing to watch them go back and forth for fourty-five minutes of which Prada bag is the best. 

I don't even know what Prada is. 

I have a list of things to look up at the library. But as the day goes on, I realize that Olivia is there to answer all my questions, without the judging stare. Without looking at me like I'm an alien for not knowing who Chloe Ting was. Apparently she was hired to be Vivianne's private, personal trainor but was fired because Vivianne saw 'no real results'. It was refreshing hearing about things real teenage girls talk about, though it was boring as hell. 

God, this was fucking pathetic. 

"I know right? Stupid Betty couldn't put our classes together," Vivianne grumbled, taking her books out of her locker before shoving her very expensive looking bag inside. Crazy thing was, she only had to say one word to the freshman who had the fifth locker next to her to switch with me. I felt bad but what the hell am I supposed to do. Plus it was convinient. I'm pretty sure the girl was happy since my locker was next to her friend's locker. 

"Intro to Catholicism," I tell them with a frown, reading my schedule. Olivia sighs, patting my shoulder with a look in her eyes, "Thank fuck I took that class for three years, I get to skip it this year." 

I shrug, I didn't mind classes. Especially classes I've never heard of before. 

Grabbing my things I tell them bye before heading to the classroom. I'd expected to be sick of their bullshit, but listening to them talking, it felt like being a kid, all the shallow topics and the stupid laughs. It was such a contrast to all the damn adulting I needed to do at home. But I didn't have any interest taking part in their conversation, just staying quiet and only responding when spoken to. 

Walking into the class, I greet the teacher with a smile which is returned before heading to an empty seat. Once I sit down, I feel eyes on me. Something I fucking hated. I ignored them by putting my head down and waiting for the teacher to start talking. 

The chair beside me scrapes on the floor, making me flinch but I don't look up. 

"Move," the stranger beside me speaks. His voice is so low, it rumbles through me if that's even possible. I look up finally only to be assaulted by memories that was held through the same dark eyes. My eyes widen and my jaw drops. 

"Nikolas?" My voice is barely over a whisper as I run my eyes over his features. Nikolas Cairo, I see the name on his notebook and my eyes widen. Fuck, the guy I gave my first kiss and my first intimate experience to had been Nikolas Cairo. Not that I cared. I just cared about the way I had craved him like I craved oxygen.