Tutoring Mr. Player

Tutoring Mr. Player Chapter 14 (sorry)

Okay, you guys probably all hate me. I said I would upload the chapter like last year and I still haven't. I honestly thought that I wasn't going to continue this story, but then out of mere curiosity I checked to see if I had gotten any new comments, and holy fuck. 58 comments on my previous chapter. Almost 6x the amount I asked for and 400 votes on this story. So by popular demand I am going to finish this story. Sorry for the long ass intro... Also my editing skills and fluency when I write has greatly improved, so I hope you guys like this chapter! Once again, I'm sorry :)

Chapter 14

Prom. The vision of every girl’s dream. Streamers and glittery disco balls hanging from the ceiling of a gymnasium room that has completely transformed into something magical. Prom.  Rarely ever does this dance turn out how most young girls expect it to be, in fact it is one of the biggest reality checks for youth, who commonly believe life is a bed of roses and you will end up happy with a handsome prince and ride off on a white steed into the glowing sunset. Not only are girls naïve, they let their big eyes cloud over with idyllic romanticisms that are not only deluded, but simply silly. Boys are the only ones who actually understand the psychosis of a lovelorn little girl. Boys appeal to the softer side in a girl, the secret side we all have that still holds out hope that one day Taylor Lautner will fall in love with them. Boys are cunning creatures developed solely for the purpose of finding some other human being with a hole in which they can stick their genitals. Prom is a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Preston sweeps his young little peach skinned girl onto the linoleum "dance floor" grabbing her dainty wrist decorated with the tacky baby's breath corsage he offered me earlier. I want to scream. Michael sits awkwardly across from me, he probably feels me emanating rage. How could Preston do this? He expected me to go out with him? I was confused

      "I'm going outside Michael." I huff and grab my annoying little sparkly clutch and stomp out of the gym. 

     The air feels cool in comparison the stuffy gymnasium. I want to scream in frustration. Why am I even so upset in the first place? I did not like Preston. I had told him, and myself that a myriad of times, yet I couldn't shake this overwhelming sensation deep in my gut. I couldn't be jealous. A part of me wanted to rip out that sophomore’s strawberry blonde curls hair sprayed to perfection, but that's not me being jealous. It's me wanting to save her from herself, to chastise her because she knows better than to go to prom with arrogant pricks such as Preston. It's all too much. 

     I pull out the Swarovski crystal embedded flask Christina had given me as a gift last year for my birthday. 

     The liquid sloshing inside of it would undoubtedly give me a buzz. I uncap it and take a long sip. It stings going down my throat, but I need to loosen up so my plan will work. My plan to make Preston jealous. 

      I sit and let the alcohol flood my system. Making me woozy and overly confident. Picking up my ridiculously fluffy skirt I waltz back inside, the alcohol giving me a newfound confidence. 

      The gymnasium is hot and stuffier than I last remember, a throng of bodies all converging in the middle of the floor in a sweaty mass of limbs. The aroma of Hawaiian punch with a slight bitterness (someone had spiked it no doubt) hangs in the air. Clutching my ridiculously nonfunctional purse I walk over to Michael, who looks rather bored.  I slam my fist on the table grasping his hand and pulling him onto the dance floor.