The Rich Bitch // l.h. au

0.3 // the people from mockbridge really suck

Bad by The Cab

If there was an award for having possibly the worst first day of school, Beth would win it with gold stars and flying colors.

She clutched Michael's cell phone to her chest protectively, as if suddenly if she had another encounter with the tall boy (Luke was his name, she was pretty sure), the phone would sworn him off. Her eyes flickered all over, feeling self conscious and scared and pathetically ready for a nap, if she was being completely honest.

Considering she had gym last period and she wasn't quite sure where the locker rooms were and she'd lost Michael in the crowd of people once the bell rang, she was lost. As she walked down the hallway, she got the dozens upon dozens of stares that she'd unfortunately grew used to in the past hour or so. Even the very unprofessional teachers that seemed uninterested in being there looked at her like she was some reincarnated extinct species.

Beth found a decent looking person towards the end of the hallway and asked where the locker rooms were, and after they'd looked at her with a sour glare, they told her. After all, she did look like somewhat of a lost puppy.

Okay. Now what.

She was standing in front of the boys' locker room, probably getting judged more for being some sort of slut in one way or another. There was no sign of Michael anywhere and she was starting to worry that he'd forgotten or something, and she'd have to hold his phone captive over night, resulting in him getting angry with her for not giving back, which could mean another slushy to the face-

"Sorry, I got sidetracked."

She looked up from her sneakers to see none other than Michael speed past her in a blur of lilac, through the locker room door. It closed behind him and Beth stared at it, not knowing if she was supposed to follow or not, but when his head popped out and his small hand waved her in, she blushed and followed him in. There was her answer. They walked through (thank heaven it was empty) the smelly room until they got to one locker in particular.

She waited for him to turn the dial for the locker, open it and sift through some items of clothing before pulling out a plain white tank top that was quite big and would sag majorly, but she could figure something out. In fact, she was luckily wearing a black bandeau underneath her blouse that day and so she could just try her best to pull off that look.

Michael watched her take it and then circle around the corner, assumably to change with some privacy. He tried his best not to look, he really did, but he could actually see her in the mirror from where she was standing and who would turn that down.

So his eyes trailed to the mirror that Bethany was oblivious about and he watched as she took her bag off her shoulders and set his phone down onto the counter (and she had this gentle quality with everything she did, like she feared it'd shatter to millions of pieces if she wasn't careful enough). Then she pulled the sweater briskly over her head, leaving her in just the lacy bandeau that actually revealed a fair amount of cleavage that Michael's mouth watered at and he reveled in the view he had. Bethany pulled his tank top over her head, and that's when he looked away.

His hands were pretty interesting at that point.

"It's big," she called with a slight giggle, looking in the mirror and trying to figure out a way that this would look decent. She tucked it into her skirt and found that that worked, feeling content with her look in the end. Beth walked back over to Michael, holding his phone out. "Thank you, seriously. You saved my life."

He shrugged. "It was no big deal," he smiled, running his fingers across his fringe to try to smooth it down after the sweat that had formed on his forehead due to some rather testosterone-related problems had made it stick to his skin a bit. He couldn't even look her in the eyes. "So I'm guessing you have no one to sit with at lunch?"