Married to My Enemy

Chapter Two: You Look Good with Pasta On You

*Author's Note: Hope you're enjoying MME so far! Things get more interesting from this chapter onwards so hope you'll keep up the support for this book :) Next update will probably be after this Friday because I'm having a test this week...Still, I hope you'll continue supporting this book by voting and commenting, and if possible share this with your friends as well, thank you! :D Enjoy <3
xoxo, cherryworks_*

Unfortunately for me, my next day was off to a rough start.

To begin with, the moment I woke up and looked at myself in the mirror, I got the shock of my life upon seeing my red, swollen eyes and puffy lips. My blonde hair was sticking out in all directions and looked like a rat's nest.

Oh my god. I looked like a disaster.

Thankfully some makeup did the trick. But then unfortunately for me, that wasn't the last of it.

I couldn't find my contacts box on my messy dressing table afterwards. And because I felt embarrassed putting on those ugly, thick-rimmed glasses that would definitely cause me to become a laughingstock in school, I decided to just head off to school like that.

Without my contacts or glasses, my vision was ten times worse. I mean, it wasn't like I couldn't see entirely, but everything that wasn't within an arm's length distance was a blur to me.

So during lunch, I couldn't help but bump into people along the way and constantly yell words of "Sorry!", "Coming through!" and "God I'm so sorry, I'll buy you another drink" et cetera et cetera. Fortunately, I was able to survive the ordeal and make my way through the throngs of people. Well, technically, it was more like the people made way for me.

However, just when I was about to reach my usual table, the most disastrous thing happened.

Someone bumped into the tray I was holding and caused my entire tray to flip backwards, causing the tomato-based spaghetti I had ordered to flip along with the tray and land backwards...onto my top.

The wet, slimy, slippery strands of spaghetti splattered on the front of my cream-coloured top and slid down my chest like little snakes. Some sauce even flew to my face.

I shrieked as I felt the sticky strands of noodles press against my chest - some even went under my top. What the hell?"

I snapped my attention to the mastermind behind this, only to see an all-too-familiar face standing before me, staring at my top, looking flabbergasted and extremely shocked. "Shit," he began apologetically, hastily glancing up from my top to my face, "I'm so sorr-"

Our eyes met, and he paused. There was a moment of silence. Then, a look of recognition passed his face and his lips slowly pulled into a smirk. "Actually, I'm not sorry," he drawled, his large brown eyes twinkling devilishly. "Not sorry at all."

Introducing to you, the person I hate most on this planet, my number one enemy Connor Anderson.

By then the noise in the cafeteria had died down, and all eyes were on us. We should be used to this kind of attention, since the both of us got it from everyone in school every day of our lives, but this time, I wasn't feeling the least bit proud about the attention I was getting. Standing there, with my favorite top splattered with reddish sauce and strands of pasta clinging to it, saying I felt embarrassed was an understatement. I was feeling extremely humiliated.

"Screw you, Connor!" I lashed out, glaring at him furiously while brushing the strands of spaghetti from my top and wiping the sauce away from my face. I felt so gross from head to toe. "Did you that on purpose?"

He scrunched up his face in disgust. "I prefer not to be screwed by you," he added calmly, "also, if I had done that on purpose, it wouldn't just be spaghetti I'd get on your top."

"This is designer!" I hollered, ignoring what he'd just said and jabbed a finger in the direction of my top.

He shrugged. "Looks like something my mum could get from the bargain alley in a neighborhood retail store."

"What?"

"Plus," he said with another disgusting smirk, "you look good with pasta on you."

What the hell did he just say?

I stared at him, shocked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

I didn't know what else to say to him. I was filled with so much anger that no words could come out of my mouth at the moment.

Before my mind processed what I was doing, I found my hands reaching for the cup of orange juice he had in hand and without second thoughts, I stood on my tiptoe and brought the juice over his head.

He yelled and shivered slightly as the cold orange juice, along with several blocks of ice, tumbled down on his head and all over his face. I made sure to empty the cup until the very last drop of juice was out.

"Revenge," I whispered to him sweetly.

He wiped his face with the back of his arm, before snapping his head up to look at me, his eyes flashing with anger. "What the f-"

"Anderson! Sullivan! In my office, now!" a loud, booming voice pierced the air.

We immediately froze on the spot. I didn't even have to turn around to know who it was.

The discipline mistress.

Oh no. Not another detention.