Super Girl ✩ {being edited}

Chapter Six

"Bev, are you okay?"

I'm not looking at Wesley, but I can 100% tell what look he's giving me. "I'm okay" I assure him, handing him his coffee.

"Are you sure?"

I roll my eyes, then look back at him finally. "I'm sure." I am sure, I am okay I'm not sad, or hurt, or deeply offended. I'm just kind of pissed. But if I tell Wes that, he's going to flip and show up to my school to give Mr. Tarker a piece of his mind. And I don't want that, I don't need any additional drama. So I sit down next to Wes and smile instead. There's no point in thinking too much into this anyway. "Are you okay, Wes?"

He gives a dramatic sigh. "I don't know. See, I met this girl."

My interest peaks instantly and my lips curl into a smirk. "You have?"

"Well, yeah..." He laughs nervously. "She's like ... the most beautiful girl ever."

"But you haven't talked to her so you haven't actually met her."

He rolls his eyes now. "Technicalities, girl. The point is ... she seems sort of shallow and I think she's loaded. Wears the most expensive shit."

I raise my eyebrows, looking at him doubtfully. "You know better than to judge people by their appearance but that does not sound like your kind of girl, man."

He nods eagerly. "Yes, I know, I know but maybe, she's different. I'm trying not to judge by her looks but she's so fit, I'm telling you."

"Well, talk to her" I shrug, still amused. "You can read people rather quickly. You'll see if she's worth your atetntion and ... worship."

"Never am I telling you anything ever again, Beverly."

"I'm just teasing" I smirk, getting up and shaking my head at him. "Keep me updated, okay? Good luck. I've got to go and wake up Daley."

"He'll kill you."

I salute, pushing open the door. "He'll be too tired."

As soon as I enter the apartment, I turn on the stereo, not too loud, but just loud enough to wake up Daley. He can tell me he wants to sleep in all he wants, later he's going to be complaining about how I could let him sleep the day away because he won't be able to sleep at night. And he won't have done any work. So I enjoy the rest of my Starbucks while making pancakes, unsure if it's the music or scent that lures him in and makes him finally cave.

"Mornin'" he mumbles, running his fingers through the blonde mess on his head which definitely needs to be washed.

"I suggest, a shirt" I respond, pointing at his bare chest.

"Right" he mumbles, turning right back around and grabbing a shirt from the sofa. "That's mine."

He doesn't manage more than a shrug and a raise of his eyebrows, expectant.

"No pancakes until you've showered" I declare, smirking when he stares back at me.

"You're mean" he responds, pushing his bottom lip forward in a slight pout before once again turning and heading to the bathroom. I'm not entirely sure if we developed this dynamic in our friendship because I'm a teacher or because Daley is in need of a woman to mother him sometimes, just for his own good, but it works either way.

Because when he comes back to the kitchen, he's fully dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a shirt his size, his hair is clean, styled and he looks like he's about ready to present some expensive ass designer brand on the catwalk. "Don't tell me you've been out already" he mutters, gesturing to my empty starbucks cup on the counter, giving me a look that declares me officially out of my mind.