after a prank gone terribly wrong, hayden jones is sent across country to caldwell academy, a school for the bitchy, the dangerous and the rebellious.
and if that wasn't bad enough, it becomes much worse when hayden is accidentally put in the male d...
A/N: Just a quick note, I have made some changes to chapter three recently. So I would advise you to read that again because some things are mentioned in this chapter. Thanks!
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AT THIS POINT, I'm seriously considering choking myself with this tie.
In the past twenty minutes I have spent attempting to tie this striped piece of shit, I've only gotten as far as placing it around my neck. This tie is either impossible or I'm just an idiot. Most probably the latter.
"How the fuck...." I trail off, standing in front of the small mirror attached to one door of my wooden wardrobe. A string of curse words escape my mouth, intensely wondering if I could get away with wearing it as a damn scarf.
"Over, under, over, through the loop. It's not that hard, Hay." Noah comments arrogantly, sitting on my bed and eating a bag of nacho flavoured Doritos, no doubt spreading crumbs everywhere. He was already dressed in his uniform; black pants, a white button up and the same red and white striped tie perfectly tied around his neck.
The female uniform was the same, a similar short sleeved blouse though with ours, they take into account that we actually have hips. Instead of the black pants we have to shimmy into a burgundy pleated skirt that my dear mother had ordered in the wrong damn size. If I bend over, I'd flash poor Noah my blinding-white pale ass cheeks.
Fortunately for me, Caldwell allows students the freedom of footwear as long as it's black and outerwear. Hence why Noah was adorning a fitting grey hoodie over his uniform, and I had picked out a denim jacket and a pair of my worn black converse that I absolutely adore.
"That's the understatement of the millennium." I huff, dropping my hands to the side and turning around to face him and fold my arms angrily across my chest, "I've never worn a stupid tie in my whole entire stupid life. Of course it's fucking hard."
"Here, let Daddy Noah give you a hand." Noah offers as he rolls off my bed and shuffles towards me.
"Never say that again." I demand sternly, cringing slightly as I glance up at him. He begins to interlace the confusing folds and flaps of the two sided piece of material, laughing. Up close, I got to stare at his perfect, blemish-free face. Not gonna complain.
"And....there." He exclaims, brushing his hands like he had just completed the hardest work in his lifetime, "I'm fucking good."
He grabs me by the shoulders and gently turns me so I'm facing the mirror once more. I grumble bitterly as my fingertips pull and pick at the tight material of my blouse sticking to my torso.
I tilt my head to the side, pulling at the hem of my skirt that I'm positive is for a seventh-grader, "I look like a stripper."
"You would make the best stripper in the whole world." Noah smiles at me through the reflection of the mirror, his large hands still on my shoulders. I roll my eyes but I can't help the smile that stretches across my face.
