m a d e m o i s e l l e

05|a golden invitation

chapter five | a golden invitation

EVERYONE KNOWS THE jocks of the school, they're popular, charming (even with the teachers), and have girls swarming at their feet. Well, as I looked at the group of boys Mrs.Thorn gestured to, I knew without a doubt, those were NorthView's jocks. The one in the middle, the one that tripped me, perked up at the mention of his name.

Said jock, a dark-haired boy, stood up and demanded all the attention in the room, although he hadn't uttered a word. Everyone shifted their gaze to him and looked up at him with excited, adoring looks. I, on the other hand, had a bored expression etched onto my face.

When he finally spoke, he said "I have amazing news for you all, everyone here is invited to my beginning of year party!" Everyone cheered and clapped eagerly. It was as if they heard they won a car on Ellen's 12 Days of Christmas Giveaways. It was hilarious, really.

I overheard the girls beside me animatedly planning a trip to the mall. The blonde on my left, took in my confused expression, leaned in closer and explained; "Adam does party invitation giveaways every time he has a party, and this time it's us, his homeroom!" she squeals, the excitement evident in her words. I just nodded absentmindedly in reply.

"Ahhh, He's so generous" she said admiringly, clasping her hands together with a content sigh. "Yeah, very generous, indeed." I muttered, lying through my teeth. The blonde seemed to sense my sarcasm and her face fell at my enthusiasm, or lack thereof, before she shrugged it off and turned back to her friend.

Adam didn't look surprised at his fellow classmates reaction, a knowing smirk on his face as he reached in his Louis Vuitton backpack for a stack of envelopes. Soon, the whole class, save for Mrs.Thorn, trained their gaze on him, tens of wide eyes following his every move. He seemed to taunt them, moving excruciatingly slow.

Finally, Adam strolled up to the front row and began handing out gold envelopes sealed with a matching gold wax seal embossed with the initials, AR. Faintly, I wondered if the gold was real. Each student would snatch it out of his hands, hungrily ripping at the envelope, resembling wild animals. They would then proceed to hide the paper away quickly, in purses or backpacks. He would chuckle lowly at their reactions, amused.

I noticed my turn approaching and grabbed the navy blue student handbook conveniently located on my desk. I opened to a random page and focused my gaze on the words floating in the page. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed I was next. Wanting so badly to spite him, I trained my gaze on the handbook, appearing to be very entertained by the boring rules and customs of the Academy.

When he arrived at my seat, he looked at me with a muddled look, his eyebrows knitting together, the skin between them crinkling. Peering up, I gazed at him for a mere second, before immersing myself back to the handbook. He scoffed, covering his hurt with bitterness. Nonetheless, he set the envelope on my desk, giving me a glimpse of his flashy Rolex, and went on to the second row.

I waited a couple of minutes before opening the envelope lazily and took out the crisp white paper. As I skimmed over the words, I realized it was a party invitation. I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the extravagant letter. It looked like a invitation to a business women's cocktail party, not a high school party.

Drinking in more details, such as the 18th century vocabulary utilized, I was soon in hysterics. Glancing around, I quickly took in all the stares people were giving me and the silence the room held now. The tension was thick and no one dared make a sound. A moment later, I heard a chair scrape against the marble floor, and footsteps headed my direction. I slyly looked down and saw a pair of Gucci Ace sneakers approaching me.

I looked up daringly to see Adam sauntering up to my desk. I took that moment to examine his appearance as he approached me; his chocolate brown eyes were warm like a pool of honey, they had a glint in them, full of life. He had immensely long lashes, ones that most girls used multiple tools and expensive products to achieve. He had a strong jawline, and his dark hair messy, a look he achieved flawlessly, and finally, a stature in the six feet. He was hot, absurdly so, and from the way he carried himself, he knew it.

Hot? Wow, Layla, you sure are desperate

When he reached my desk, he propped his elbows up, dipping his head slightly to face me. Wisps of his dark hair fell into his eyes, casting a shadow on his face. I itched to reach forward and move them away.

Willing those disgusting thoughts away, I gazed up at him with an amused expression, cocking my head challengingly to the side, leaning back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. I was never one to be intimidated by anyone and he ought to know that. His eyes held a fleeting expression of surprise before he replaced it with the curious look from before.

"Mind sharing what you found so hilarious about my invitation, peaches?" He arched a full, dark eyebrow at me expectantly, awaiting my reply.

I frowned inwardly at the nickname, but answered all the same. I bit my crimson painted lip mockingly as I thought over his question. "Didn't know we were being invited to your mothers soirée, champ", I cooed loudly, a mirthless chuckle escaping my lips. Several gasps echoed around the room, I couldn't help but smirk at the reaction my words got.

I chose the most childish nickname that came to mind, and the look on his face told me that he didn't seem pleased by it, but he masked it quickly with a arrogant smirk, mirroring mine.

As if realizing something, Adam threw his head back as he howled; it didn't really help that he was laughing at my expense. I couldn't help but notice his laugh, it was light and soft and sweet, like a melody to my ears. I sat up, staring at him, my mouth agape and my face flushed in pure humiliation. I mentally debated chucking the textbook on my desk at his head. I quickly composed myself and curled my lips up to a sneer instead.

He looked back at me, stifling his laughs, "Oh sugar, just come by Friday night, and you'll be the judge of that", he was so close, I felt his minty breath splaying across my face.

Immediately after, he walked away, not bothering to hear my reply, taking brisk long strides back to his seat and urged the teacher to continue with a satisfied grin. I hadn't even noticed Mrs.Thorn had been standing impatiently, awaiting our conversation to end.

Everyone steadily went back to their work, but Adam. He held my gaze from across the room a while longer before shaking his head, keeping the grin on his face, and directing his attention to whatever the teacher was going on about.

I did the same but could feel the judgmental eyes burning holes in my back and the hushed whispers behind me. I willed myself to ignore them, I had promised myself not to cause any trouble; after all that's what got me in this hell hole in the first place.

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