Blaming Cupid

Blaming Cupid - Chapter Eight

B L A M I N G
C U P I D
8. Harriet

I'm glad Josiah and I could clean all the mess before Lorena could witness it. If I walked in on the state the kitchen was in yesterday, I would have had a heart attack right there and then.

We eventually came around to preparing the cake too and I have to admit, Josiah isn't such a bad baker. There definitely is room for improvement, but from what I saw, he is quite skilled. Now that I really think about our time together baking, the majority of it was spent in him cracking unfunny jokes, bickering about the cake and overall annoying the hell out of me.

The way boys function I will truly never come to understand.

I stare out of the window of my History classroom as the teacher drones on in his dry tone. The 'pitter-patter' of rain turns into wet thuds as the icy water races to pelt against the windows.

Watching the rain is probably the most entertaining thing to do right now. I just can't stand his bland, monotonous voice that beckons my eyes shut. Soon enough, my eyelids start to feel heavy and I rest my chin in one hand.

Within moments, I drift in and out consciousness, hardly catching the last words of Mr Byrne's lecture on the Cold War. I can't really pinpoint on how long I sleep but the increasing sounds of boots approaching my table punctures through my sleepy haze. The energy to force my eyelids open stoops low until a loud clash makes me bolt upright. Mr Byrne's palm lays on my desk where it crashed down, yanking me into full alertness. I can feel everyone's eyes on me.

"Am I boring you to sleep, Parker?" He asks, lifting his eyebrow.

"Well, yeah, actually," I reply before I can stop myself.

His eyebrow snap up so high that they almost reach his silver hairline, "Excuse me?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean tha-" I try to apologise.

Mr Byrne cuts me off with a deep scowl, "You've said enough, to the detention room! Now!" he orders.

I let out a grown and throw on my backpack, stalking off towards the door.

The detention room is on the first floor, about three doors down an empty corridor. I grab the door handle, hoping desperately that nobody is inside since I'm not really in the mood to speak to anyone right now. However, it just happens to be my luck that when I step inside, the two people who know how to make my blood boil the most are reenacting a scene you'd find in a porno. Josiah Ferraro and Mia Moore, in the middle of the room enjoying a heated make-out session. He reclines her back against the desk and she wraps her long pale legs around his waist, raking her pink talon acrylics through his curls as they exchange sloppy kisses. 

I mentally cringe.

"This is the detention room, not your bedroom," I clarify as I walk towards the back, plopping onto an empty seat.

The room drops silent. I watch Josiah freeze in his tracks and twist his head in my direction to check that it's indeed me. I cooperate by sending him a fake grin, mocking it further with a friendly wave. He quickly moves away from Mia and recomposes himself, fixing his messy hair and adjusting his shirt collar.

"You know, Hattie," he begins, "if you wanted to join, you could have just asked politely, I mean, I'd be willing to have a threesome,"

I chuckle, "You're crazy if you think I'd ever want to fuck you."

He shrugs, "Well, I am a little crazy."

My lips quirk up, "Definitely not a little,"

The thump of his biker boots fills the quiet air as he walks over. He drags the seat next to mine back, and flops down on it, propping his legs on the desk.