The Bad Girl in Boots

The Airport- edited

A/N

Hiya guys, I wrote this book a long time ago and have been reading over it and cringing at some of the grammar and plot line - therefore I am slowly editing and overhauling it - please be patient!

Also Jade's name has changed to Elisia as I decided I don't like the name Jade for her!

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The light in the airport is harsh, and my eyes smart at the brightness of it. My pale skin almost glows under the fluorescent beams. Catching sight of my reflection in a window, I wince. My freckles stand out in my pale, drawn face. Mascara is smudged under my eyes, echoing the dark circles underneath them. I haven't been sleeping well. I wet my finger, quickly wipe the dark blobs of makeup off and reassess my features. I don't look awful, considering the last few days. Thick lashes frame my startling grey eyes, perhaps my most captivating feature. They glare back at me uncompromisingly - there is a ring of light blue around my pupils before the grey creeps in, as if storm clouds have drifted over a sunny sky. A smattering of freckles cover my slight nose and high cheekbones, like dust settling on my skin. Dark hair flows in a straight sheet down my back, though rumpled from my nap on the jet. My flight clothes consist of denim shorts and a navy hoodie - my brother's hoodie. Whoops. He's not getting that back anytime soon, I think to myself. Not now I had to board at this school. Special school, apparently. I rolled my eyes internally. Anger management issues certainly got you places. Chunky, burgundy Doc Martens encase my feet, making my slim legs look even leaner in comparison.

I haul my duffel bag further onto my shoulder, eyes scanning the terminal. Knowing my rich-as-hell parents, there would be a driver. Suited and booted, most likely. I look for the tell-tale uniform of a professional chauffeur, and see none. Strange. Maybe he's late. My eyes flit lazily over the crowd again. There. WHITHALE-SMITHE. I resist the urge to wince at my name, written in bold capital letters. The chauffeur had probably never heard such a pretentious name, despite his clientele.

But he's not a chauffeur. I blink and stumble to a stop at the sight of the driver. He's barely older than me. Dressed in dark jeans and a tight white t shirt, he's hot as sin as well. Well over 6 foot, casually tousled hair, and a very well toned body. I can appreciate a guy who looks after himself. Tall, dark and handsome. Just my type. I smirk and quit my blatant assessment of his cut body, and just about refrain from choking on my own spit. Painfully blue eyes stare into mine. A shockwave rippled through me. Damn. I was, quite simply, speechless at the raw, male power in his stare. He blinks. The inescapable draw to him fades a little, but my steps still quicken in haste to reach him. I needed to get my hormones in check. His eyes slide away from me slowly, and he winks at a girl standing nearby. She smiles coyly back. Bitch.

My boots clomp loudly on the linoleum floor. His eyes flick back to mine, but they don't stick. They begin a slow appraisal, sliding down to my boots. When he raises them again, it's at a snail's pace, heat growing in them as he takes in my long legs. His stare seems to warm my body from the inside out. He knows he's sexy. I think with a smirk. I'm glad to be wearing a baggy hoodie. I don't think I could take much more heat.

As his gaze returns to mine, I raise an eyebrow.

"Finished?" I question. To my surprise, he answers without hesitation, not a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

"For now."

I choke on my own tongue. The cheek!

"You okay there, love?"

I scowl and scramble for an answer. "You're too young to be a driver."

He scoffs. "I'm sorry that Beaumont's chauffeur service is not up to your Highness' standards. I'll make sure to inform the head that you'll be walking to the academy grounds." His tone drips with sarcasm, and he spins on his heel, ready to stride out of the airport doors. Red flashes in my vision. He knew I didn't mean it in that way. I growl under my breath. He stops and turns, looking startled. My face flushes. Great start, Jade. Now you look like a lunatic. My gaze drops to the floor, mortified. I hear him huff a sigh, and then suddenly his trainers come into my line of sight, his toes an inch from mine. A pause, I sense him hesitating. I flinch as warm fingers meet my chin, pushing my head up to meet his gaze. Another wave of sparks flow from his touch. Electric shock? His eyes are alight with amusement and something else. Concern? Whatever it is, it disappears between one blink and the next.