Blinded by Perfection

37- Unfinished Business

Chapter 37 | Unfinished Business

Hey guys! If you haven't noticed and just in case you're confused, I've changed the book name! The story is now called Blinded By Perfection, but nothing else has changed.

Anyway, qotc is what's your most embarrassing story??

~~~~~~~~~

I thought the drama would maybe end and today would be a new day, but I'm sadly mistaken. I ignorantly forgot high school is practically bursting with gossip and drama loving parasites.

But that story is for later.

As if the timing is planned, as soon as I finish repacking my locker with my finished homework, a feminine voice calls my name from right across the hall.

Recognizing the familiar tone immediately, an extremely diminuative smile makes it's way onto my lineaments. The reason I'm not as ecstatic is it's too early in the morning for me to react accordingly, with my usual gargantuan smile.

"Hey Tay," I greet, clumsily pivoting around on the balls of my feet to see her. Mid spin, I kick my right foot back and expertly shut my locker with the flat of my pink Converse.

"Your outfit and hair look so cute!" She compliments, using both hands to pick up medium sized clumps of my brunnette hair from my shoulders. She admires them closely, brown eyes twinkling as she stares at the locks with conviction.

This morning I got up before my alarm, surprising, I know. Since I'm one of those people who can't immediately go back to sleep once they're up, I decided to use the extra thirty minutes to curl my hair. I haven't done it in a while, so the curls aren't even, but that fact barely diminishes the elegance of the bouncy spirals.

Not going to lie, I was feeling too good to just wear my usual leggings and T-shirt. For no reason other than to complete the look, my attire consists of a flowy jean skirt, my pink Converse, and a cute white top I stole from Taylor's closet last time I was over.

My smile quickly turns mischeavious, and I fist the material of the shirt I'm wearing to draw more attention to it."Why, thank you. This shirt is really complimenting my figure, don't you think?"

After that comment, it takes her .5 seconds to realize I'm hiding something. Not that I am going to extreme lengths to keep the secret at hand. In fact, I want her to know I took it.

"Wait. . ." she says slowly, her hands dropping my hair as she takes a step back to examine my outfit for the second time. To make sure she gets the hint, I flaunt the gaunty shirt even more by brushing it off, although there's not a single speck of dust on it.

"What?" I say innocently, batting my long eyelashes in emphasis as I brush of the shirt with a renewed vigor.

The realization slams into her as if it is a truck. "That's my shirt!" She exclaims through an understanding gasp, mouth also contorting into an 'o' in disbelief.

My arms drop to my side now that she gets the point. "Darn. You caught me."

Her expression never falters in surprise, yet it doesn't increase in ferocity as she speaks. "How did you even get it?"

My grin only grows wider, showcasing my rows of straight teeth caused by my braces in Junior High. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

In reality, she actually already knows how I got the shirt. Sometime at the sleepover a couple days ago, I asked her if I could bring it home and wear it once because it was cute, and I own exactly two semi dressy shirts. Her response was a noncommital grunt, for she was too busy on her phone to look up. But, it's more fun to be mysterious, so in turn I don't remind her.