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EIGHTEEN
bad timing
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AFTER MY UNFORTUNATEand very accidental leaking of the incident at the club, inexplicably, it made our group closer.
Call it intuition, but I knew that they would never hate Isaiah for what happened. Of course, it gave Rosie a new subject for relentless teasing and an arsenal of new insults.
Being mid-July, the temperature was starting to slowly creep upwards, and this change was definitely noticeable. The baby hairs on my neck seemed to stick to my skin a bit more.
Even Rosie, despite being Sweat Proof, brought her dainty little paper fan everywhere.
For reasons unbeknownst to me, bitchy little Rosie Peppler was starting to grow on me.
Maybe I saw a little bit of myself in her, or I found it quite admirable how she could turn any situation to be about herself.
Maybe it was that she wasn't as bitchy as she used to be, and her snarky comments were laced with playfulness rather than malice.
Of course, she still ridiculed me over my physical appearance and fashion sense. I'd be alarmed if she didn't. It was in her blood to make fun of people, and I'd think she'd choke and die before words of kindness and encouragement left her pouty lips.
As of the moment, I was lazily resting on the cool hardwood of my room. I smiled softly upon the thought of how great summer was so far.
Clad in a pair of barely there satin short-shorts and a breezy tank top, I opted for clothes with the most breathability and as close as I could get to naked. I actually quite enjoyed being naked. If I could make it a full time profession in the most demure and holy sense, I would. And of course, less innocently, I did enjoy being naked for other activities, too.
Sue my hormonal teenage body.
Due to my friends being out and about with their own activities, I was busying myself with flipping through the pages of the newest issue of Vogue. I had stooped to the lowest level of boredom, reading. In actuality, however, I was just enjoying the breeze from the pages flipping.
I was a relatively smart person, in comparison to my imbecile of a brother, but it mostly applied to street smarts. Book wise, I did what I could to get by, which usually entailed using the internet to bypass reading any assigned novel for my classes. In my opinion, if I could finesse the system and not get caught, I was using my brain for something meaningful.
And really, my mother couldn't have cared less about my grades or degree.
As long as I married someone filthy rich in the end, the brain in my head didn't matter.
