At Luxford Academy, the elite boarding school for the ultra-rich, Adriana and Nicholas have been bitter rivals since childhood. Forced to live in the same dorm, their once-friendly pranks have escalated into daily clashes-sharp insults, constant bic...
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Apparently 'he was talking shit about you' is a good enough excuse to go off and fight someone.
While I didn't seem fazed by the whole idea of being talked bad about, Nick was more or less enraged.
"What do you mean, you don't care? He was saying all this stuff about you! Behind your back!"Nick tugged at the roots of his hair in frustration.
It had been three days since Nicks fight with Dylan- Nick was still furious.
"I don't care because people have been saying stuff behind my back my whole life." I simply stated with a shrug. "I'm pretty sure magazines have said worse than what Dylan probably said."
"But you don't understand what he was saying!"Nick sighed exasperatedly, continuing on with his pacing.
You could tell he was frustrated, due to his continuous pacing whilst pulling at his hair every time I tried to reason with him. He wasn't very reasonable at the moment.
I sighed deeply, leaning against my vanity. "Then help me understand. What did he say?"
Nick had been annoyingly tight lipped about what Dylan had said, he could go on an hours long rant about him, but every time I asked what were the words bad enough to make Nick throw a punch- he wouldn't answer.
"It doesn't matter."Nick muttered evasively. That asshole.
"You just contradicted yourself!" I pointed an accusing finger at him. "It matters enough that you threw a punch at him, you fought him, and now you've isolation till we leave! And it matters enough that you're ranting about it instead of helping me with my closet!"
"Oh shit yeah I'm sorry baby" he said now acting calm with a soft voice.
My dorm room looks like a tornado hit it, and I can't even see the floor under the piles of clothes. Sorting out my closet was supposed to be a quick job, but it's turned into an epic battle against the clutter I've been ignoring for way too long.
"You know," he says, picking up a shirt and holding it like it's radioactive, "you could just burn all this and start over."
"Very helpful, Nick," I shoot back, rolling my eyes as I try to wrestle a stubborn hanger back into place. "You know, you're really good at this whole 'supportive boyfriend' thing."
He smirks. "I'm just here for moral support and the promise of pizza afterward."
"Of course you are," I mutter, shoving another sweater into the closet. "But if we don't finish this, there's no pizza. So get to work."
Nick sighs dramatically, dragging himself off the bed and diving into one of the piles. He's muttering something under his breath about how he didn't sign up for a fashion intervention when suddenly, he freezes.
"What's this?" His voice lifts, a teasing note slipping in as he pulls something lacy and red from the pile. Oh, God. My lingerie. Of all things, he had to find that.
