Say You Hate Me

blackmail

TW MENTION OF $H LATER IN CHAPTER

He dyed my hair fucking red yesterday.

It wasn't a badass ruby red shade nor was it Lia's gorgeous auburn colour. It was the undeniable hue of a used tampon.

And that called for drastic measures.

I contemplated shaving his crown of messy curls off while he slept tonight but ultimately decided against it.

I couldn't dig the grave for that beautiful bronze mane. His hair was too perfect for that.

So I chose a better option. One that benefitted me majorly.

"Morning!" I announce, collapsing beside Nick in the canteen.

"Elsie." Aaron gasped solemnly, clutching his heart, "how good am I at singing on a scale from one to Beyoncé."

Shaking my head as laughs spilled from lips, I respond, "you're a solid 3."

A broken sob tore from his throat at my answer, "really?"

"Yes."

"I guess joining the singing association is off the table then."

"It never was on the table," Ryder snorts, "is there a yodelling association? You'd be fucking brilliant at that."

I pinch the bridge of my nose at the thought of Aaron yodelling.

"I feel like you're making fun of me," Aaron mutters with a quirked brow, "I don't appreciate the negativity. When I'm the new Mariah Carey, you won't be laughing."

"The day that Aaron becomes famous for his singing, is the day that I realise that the world is fucked," Nick murmurs incredulously.

"You can do whatever you put your mind to," I say, "aside from singing."

"I hate all of you," Aaron scoffs, "this is my villain origin story."

"My villain origin story happened when I was 11 and got hit by a car," Ryder shrugs, recalling the memory.

"What the fuck?" I gasp, my face crumpled with shock.

"It wasn't that bad. The worst part was when I had to stand up and walk away whilst everyone stared at me in horror."

Shaking my head, I turn to face Nick.

"I need a favour, nick."

"What do you need?" He asks cautiously.

"Grayson's Credit Card," I offer him a pleading smile, "I deserve a shopping spree after that stunt he pulled yesterday. Did you see the state of my hair?"

I could see the cogs in Nick's brain turning as he contemplated it.

"Fine," he responds, "only if you buy me something while you're at it."

"Deal!" I exclaim, yanking him into an embrace.

Twenty minutes later, Nick returned with a black credit card in between his fingertips. The card gleamed with possibilities - just begging to be used and spent.

Over $160,000 later, I had ordered hundreds of new clothes, shoes and makeup and Grayson's bank account was screaming in anguish.

Actually, he's stupid rich. I probably didn't even leave a dent in his wallet.

I admired a gorgeous black handbag from Dior that would go perfectly with the new outfit I just bought. My eyes twinkled with mischief and Nick groaned, "Grayson's going to fucking kill me."