Here In Rosefalls | √

Six: Unpleasant confidante

"When you feel someone else's pain and joy as powerfully as if it were your own, then you know you really loved them."
― Ann Brashares, Girls In Pants: The Third Summer of the Sisterhood

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Stella

Exquisite. Simply exquisite, bah!

My head was throbbing, drumming like it was a severely glitched drummer banging on the drum using his sticks.

Perhaps that was why I'd never stayed out late if it were destined for me to have such rendezvous getaway—which was unlikely, on school night. I staggered all the way from bathroom to the kitchen. The maid fortunately slipped some aspirin beside my usual coffee and I could barely bat an eye when my feet stomped on the hell-hole of the academy. Some junior students were as kind as to lend me a concealer, they were probably horrified to look at my extremely puffy under eyes, I graciously thanked
them.

Noticing the academy's bus roared into life, with a newly painted layout 'Falkov's Academy Grappling Up' written in lavish yet motivational for the athletes. It was the States Championship, which was one of the most awaited season of all before the Nationals. The athletes here were cherished, trained to be the best, professional and most importantly, high-spirited. Our academy often got praised for being the biggest contributers for Nationals, making Rosefalls a trivial and feared name in the sports department.

However, the engine roars were immensely staining my head. I was getting a full-on attacks in my brain, but I couldn't stop myself. I had to join them, cheering and passing at our athletes before they went competing. We had also promised Beck that we'd be there for him during the academy rituals, sending athletes off to championships. This had been our traditional rituals for sports since we first enrolled.

Layla, looking like a normal loon, filled the space next to me but behind her layers of make up, she was sleep deprived. All because of last night. Gwen was nowhere at the crowd as she was spotted munching her breakfast on the bench with other sleep deprived students, certainly tired. Beck was the only one who had to keep his involvement less since he had to solely focus for the game.

My eyes darted to a certain figure wearing academy's wingbreaker like he owned it. What the hell, of course he owned it, he's a fucking legend. His left hand gripped a bottle of diet coke, then poured the content inside his mouth, his spills trailed rather handsomely on his jaw.

"You're shamelessly staring at him." Layla tilted her head from glancing down at her phone, being the obvious ostrich she was, and I snorted, "He's good looking, that's all."

Her eyes held a rather amused glaze, "Well, I'm an pessimist. I guess keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." Somehow her voice vibrated in my ear, annoyingly. Finished with her stupid cheshire cat grin, I scowled at her. "He's not an enemy, idiot. I'd rather call him er, an unpleasant confidante."

Layla threw me a look, "That's your best shot? Unpleasant confidante, that's not even relevant, high-heel." She snorted.

"Shut up, Layla." I stressed.

"Yeah I will, as soon as I erase the image of Coach Bradley's dick inside my head." She muttered.

About that—

Expressive blue eyes met mine, out of the blue.

"I had a dream I did a threesome with them, utterly disgusting. It's not even a wet dream, like a new definition of a dreadful nightmare. I woke up screaming." She continued babbling, in which I would've second her on that dreadful nightmare thought. But I got distracted, and I swear on my pounding head that myself was a disgrace to even get distracted by that captivating blue eyes.