Married to My Enemy

Chapter Three: Sticky Mess

*Author's Note: After taking soo long I'm back with another update! So far Married to My Enemy has reached 100+ reads yay!! I've managed to update all three books in one/two (?) days woohoo this is the fastest I've ever gotten so far :) (do check out Players and Serving Mr Popular if you haven't!) Anyway, I've had a lot of fun writing this book and hope you guys will enjoy this book as much as I did writing it :D Don't forget to vote, comment, share :)
xoxo, cherryworks_*

I picked at the sticky strands of noodles on my top and tossed them to the small bin that the discipline mistress had shoved to me, while wiping my beloved top and my face clean of the disgusting tomato sauce.

Meanwhile, Connor was drying himself off with the towel she had taken from the nurse's office and handed to him. His casual brown hair had already dried and was already back in its usual state, but his black blouse was still wet, clinging to his chest and making his well-defined body and abs look more prominent.

Most girls would melt at that sight, but not me. I found that repulsive, coming from him.

The discipline mistress clearly wasn't interested in his body either. She glared at him disapprovingly. "Connor, haven't I mentioned before that the school
discourages students wearing bodycon clothes to school?"

"This isn't bodycon, Mrs Fletcher," Connor protested, pointing at his top, "it's just a soaked" - he paused at this word to glare pointedly at me - "button-down blouse."

Mrs Fletcher shook her head and let out a small sigh, looking over at us with a look that stated she was only too used to this: seeing us sitting in front of her together, in a, more often than not, pretty messed-up state.

"How many times do I have to see the both of you in my office?" She slapped a hand dramatically to her forehead. "When will you two ever stop trying to kill each other?"

"Well, obviously, when he dies," I told her with an innocent look.

"You'll be dead before you even get the chance to do that," he spat, narrowing his eyes at me.

We were caught in an intensive glaring session and I was just about to retaliate when Mrs Fletcher cut me off.

"Look at you two going at it again," she let out another exasperated sigh, "I have no idea why you hate each other so much."

"We have our reasons," we chorused, before exchanging glares again.

Of course no one knew the reason why we hated each other so much - we never planned on letting anyone know. After all, It was terribly embarrassing. For the both of us. But mostly for me.

In freshman year, during one gym lesson, I felt my bra straps suddenly getting loose and one of the two bra hooks coming undone, and it was getting uncomfortable. So I asked to use the toilet and quickly left the gym.

Unfortunately, the toilet was way too far from the gym, so I headed into the room closest to the gym: the boys' locker room.

I knew gym lesson wasn't going to end any time soon, so no one would be in the locker room, plus I only needed a few minutes to adjust my bra so I made up my mind and headed in.

As expected, the locker room was empty. I closed the door behind me and quickly pulled out my shirt.

My bra straps were so loose that they had already dropped to the sides of my arms. I brought my hands to my back and felt the bra hook, then quickly fastened it tightly.

I then proceeded to adjust the straps. However, just as I did so, the door suddenly swung open, and a figure loomed into view.

I recognized that face almost immediately. After all, everyone's been talking about this hot guy in our level, ever since the first day of school.