Rising From the Ashes

3. Prove me Right

I snuck outside the back door and made my walk of shame around the school, trying to avoid any classroom windows or people. Thankfully, luck was on my side – the sky had clouded up and it started to drizzle lightly, effectively forcing most of the skippers inside the school or into the cafes at the nearby plaza. I finally reached the parking lot, cursing myself again for wearing the torture trap shoes, and made my way to my car.

I pulled out my car keys and climbed on, putting them into the engine and turning the car on. I pressed the gas, preparing to pull out of the parking lot, but the lack of movement indicated that there was something very wrong.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I exclaimed angrily, stomping on the gas again. Out of all the days, this one just had to be the one when my car broke down. I sat inside for a couple more seconds as the rain continued drizzling, pounding lightly on the car roof. Finally, I decided I have to stop procrastinating on figuring out what happened to my car and got out again, feeling my hair frizz up in the humidity.

I took a lap around the car, trying to figure out what possibly went wrong. Was I low on gas? I didn’t think that was a possibility as my mother filled up the tank to the brim only yesterday, and I didn’t see the light flashing when I was inside the car. I stopped by the hood, tapping my fingers against it as my top slowly started getting soaked, making me shiver in the harsh November wind.

“Hey beautiful, isn’t it a bit of a bad day for a walk?” I heard a deep chuckle behind me. I turned around to see a guy smirking at my obviously drenched and disheveled state, his wet black hair sticking to his forehead. I scowled, not in the mood for humor at my expense.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be other than pestering innocent girls?” I flipped my hair off my face, giving him a glare as I continued to think about what could possibly be wrong with my car.

“Well, that’s certainly a unique way to take a compliment.” He replied, making me raise my eyes and look at him again in slight irritation. I took a deep breath, about to tell him exactly where to go to, but my resolve to be rude vanished from a good look at his face.

Holy crap…Somehow, even completely drenched from the rain, this guy was flawless. Long black hair that almost hit his eyebrows and was currently dripping little droplets down to his neck and chest, a defined, square jaw and piercing green eyes that met mine confidently as his eyebrows inched up at my expression.

“Like what you see?”

“Oh please, you’re dripping like a wet dog.” I retorted, my voice slightly breathless and not as convincing as I was with my earlier insult. Jeez, get a grip. You’ve only just figured out where pretty faces get you.

“Priceless coming from a girl whose shirt is currently a hundred percent see-through.” He smirked again, making me flush and cast my eyes down to my chest. He was right – my white top was currently stuck to my breasts, revealing my thankfully not overly embarrassing pink lacy bra. “Don’t worry, I like the view.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” I scowled again, turning my eyes back to my car. I was still stuck in this parking lot, and this douchebag was clearly not taking his cue to leave. Of course, arrogant and conceited were usually their trademark traits: clearly, they thought their looks covered up for all the flaws. “Well, you might want to take a pause from eye-fucking my chest and either go run off to whatever you were about to do or help me fix my car.”

“Don’t you worry sweetheart, I’ll figure it out. You won’t have to break a nail.” I gave him an incredulous look, my eyebrows shooting up to my hairline. Who did this guy think he was to talk to me like I was some bimbo?

On the other side, I was wearing a pink bra and was standing in four-inch heels beside a broken car. Alright, I guess I could see where he was coming from.