(grayson).
one damaged student,
one caring teacher.
so many rules, laws, morals
stand between them.
will it all vanish in the
face of pure unchaste lust?
♡very mature content.
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DOVE LOOKED EXQUISITE. as always. but today she didn't even try but still looked beautiful.
texted by justin, the implicit words were practically to not try too hard for the party. just dress casual, and for the first time dove didn't mind, being used to always picking something extra, she could finally relax and take her time getting dressed.
a medium — grey crop top clung to her skin, showing a lot of smooth shoulder and a lot of toned stomach that she only gets from going on her weekly jogging and playing volleyball after school sometimes. denim — blue boyfriend jeans that were frayed, ripped and discoloured hung from her hips, still gripping at her ass but not as tight as usual on her shaved legs. and some old white adidas sneakers were on her feet, so as she looked in the mirror she knew she looked quite plain but she didn't mind, as she accessorised with a golden bracelet her mother gave to her when she was a mere six years old. makeup was on the minimalistic side, with a thin layer of foundation on her face, some fake lashes glued on and her usual shimmery lip gloss was swapped onto her lips.
spritzing some chanel perfume on her neck, she took a deep breath, fluffed her blonde hair and left sufficiently. she made her way to the party through an uber, arriving quite late but it wouldn't be expected for dove of all people to be early. that's just barbaric.
"so where are you going darling," the uber driver drawls. he's an arabic man with a clean cut beard and he has a random sprawl of doodles on his jeans. dove is unable to tell if he did it on purpose and it's some type of trendy fashion or it was an accidental choice. either way, it was super unprepossessing.
"to some place." dove is never the type to like unnecessary conversation especially to a random driver that has no business to her life. so her tone stayed bland and uninterested.
"what typa place?"
"a place."
he doesn't seem to get the gist of what she was trying to do which was avoid talking. he had some prompt smile lingering on his thin lips and was staring at her through the mirror, making her feel thoroughly uncomfortable and excruciatingly fraught.
"well you're not talkative, are ya?" he questions and she shrugs aloof like, her new silver grey eye contacts peering outside of the car window, watching many large houses go by, and she knew they were getting closer to the party. thank god. "well, you look good by the way."
