My Mythic Bitch In Red

Chapter Forty-Four

(y/n)'s POV

It was Tuesday morning and I was waiting in my room for Heather to pick me up. We'd agreed on the phone last night to go together, and skip classes that we didn't have with one of the two other girls. They'd both agreed, saying it was for the best.

They may not have known about the murder, and I doubted they did. I knew that I knew because I'd seen the look in his eyes. He wasn't a sad gay boy covering his tracks, he was an aggressive straight boy who couldn't handle not getting what he wanted. He was a desperate boy who would hurt a girl for not returning his feelings.

I'd looked into his eyes yesterday, and I saw no mercy; no hesitation or fear, no "I'm sorry" written on his face. Just a cold, malicious guy that was towering over me and ready to hurt me as revenge or whatever.

I was brought out of my thoughts by a car horn blaring through the silent air. I grabbed my backpack, making sure that I had everything, and headed off.

I'd dressed nice again today, withy usual purple blazer over a dark blue scoop neck t-shirt, a knitted black skirt, knee high purple socks, and heels. A dainty black necklace was around my neck, with a little silver heart. My mother had given it to me for Christmas last year, and it reassured me to have it on my person.

I opened the door, getting hit in the face with the cold November air. I was regretting wearing so little clothing, but it was how we dressed. I needed to talk to them about winter clothes that actually retained heat.

She waved to me with a smile, the one that I fell in love with. I returned it, almost unconsciously, and walked up to the car. I opened the door and plopped down on the leather seat before closing the door and buckling up. The last thing I needed was the murderer killing me in a car crash for "knowing too much" or something.

"Hey, stranger. You okay?" She asked, and I could spot the corner of a hickey on her neck, making me blush at the memory.

"Yeah, as good as you can be in this whole situation, right?" I responded lightly, earning a humorless laugh from her. But I couldn't help but think that maybe she'd left a visible hickey on me. So I flipped down the mirror to check.

"Whatcha doing?" She asked.

"I saw a corner of a hickey on your neck, so I wanted to check if any of the higher ones you left on me are visible." I explained, earning a nod from her. She'd mainly littered them across my chest, shoulders and stomach, but a couple has strayed closer to my neck.

"Do you mind mine being visible? We could just be late and I could change," she offered gently, reaching over to rest a hand on my thigh.

"No, it's not like you're actually out to everyone. You could just say it was a college boy they wouldn't know if someone asks. I'd be too awkward to think of anything on the spot," I told her, and she smiled, that smile that made everything feel vaguely alright. She leaned over and pressed a careful kiss to my lips, making sure to align them perfectly so that her lipstick wouldn't stray off my lips.

We had made a plan that everyday we were almost the same lipstick so that when we kissed, it wouldn't be too obvious. We were relatively smart about all of this stuff.

"You know you're the actress here, right?" She laughed after pulling away and starting the drive. I giggled a bit, flushing slightly in the cheeks.

"You could be an actress if you tried, baby. I'm sure of it. And to be fair, I've always sucked at improv," I told her, moving her rest a hand on her thigh. She grinned.

"You look really pretty with hickeys, you know." She said, out of the blue. My eyes widened and she could obviously feel my hand tense on her knee, because she glanced over at me hurriedly.

"I'm sorry, did I make this weird? I mean, you just look really pretty all the time so-" she rushed to explain herself.

"No, don't. I... I liked it. Just a bit sudden and shocking was all," I cut her off meekly. Her face was tinted pink, and she looked amazing in the darkness of an early November morning. She always looked amazing. How did she even do it?

"You did, hm? Well then, allow me to tell you that all of you is fucking beautiful and you're an absolute goddess," she said as she regained her composed confidence. I rolled my eyes, but my face felt warm. She had her own little way with words, and definitely knew how to flatter someone.

"I could say the same to you, cutie," I faced her and winked, hoping she'd see it out of her peripheral vision.

"Cutie? That's all you could come up with?" She snorted. I gently slapped her forearm in retaliation.

"Nah, I just think you're really cute," I leaned over, pinching her quickly reddening cheek.

"Aw, I made the almighty Heather Chandler blush! You look so adorable when you blush," I cooed.

"Q-quiet or... or I'm turning this car around and making you skip all day!" She threatened, visibly flustered.

"Fine. You're no fun," I stuck my tongue out at her, careful not to wear away any of my lipstick.

"I don't need to be. I have the best girlfriend in the history of the world, so clearly I'm doing something right." She announced. I giggled, rolling my eyes. What a gal she was.

(975 words)