The Beastie and his Princess

Chapter 2

I grumbled as I walked into class, the bell ringing as I did so. Without a word I went to the teacher's desk, placing my palm out for Mrs. Simoine to give me my darn campus beautification. I felt a piece of paper being placed on my hand, and I grudgingly took it, crumpling it into my bag. With a sigh I walked to my desk, hearing a few chuckles from my classmates. Oh yeah? Try walking from here to my house you turds. I bet you would have bunions by the time you got halfway there, I thought bitterly.

And so, class began. Mrs. Simoine didn't let us partner up again, and I was glad to say the least. Maybe I would just skip the project. I already had over 100% in the class-it was that easy.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was starving. I walked over to my usual place under a tree and sat down, not caring that the grass would most likely stain my pants. I took out my ham sandwich, lazily throwing the tin foil to the ground.

Eh, I could pick it up later.

"Look at that," I jumped at the deep voice. "Ms. Campus Beautifucation throwing her trash all over the place," said a sarcastic voice. I rolled my eyes, "You know you'll have to clean that up later, right?"

I didn't bother to check and see who this person was, but I was already annoyed as I answered, "Who cares? It's not like I actually do it. I just go up to a teacher farthest from my view and claim I'm finished-and since they can't see my exact location previous to talking with them, they just sign the stupid thing. Bada-bing bada-boom," I grumbled.

He chuckled, but he was closer this time. I gave in to my curiosity and turned around, wishing it was anyone but him.

His dark green eyes twinkled in amusement, and I almost blushed from embarrassment. Almost. "What a little bad ass you are Jones," Ryder laughed. "Too bad you don't really give off that image," he teased me.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Is that supposed to be an insult?"

He shrugged, "Take it as you want," he leaned against my tree, "All I'm saying is that you're short," I glared at him. I was only 5 feet...not that bad... "And you look really fragile," because I am, "And weak." He said simply.

I shut my eyes, holding in my anger. You have no idea.

"Your point? Look, what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be off somewhere else doing who knows what?" I muttered, taking a bite of my sandwich. I didn't care to take in his features, he wasn't going to stay long enough for me to 'drool' over him either way.

He sighed, "You act all tough, though it's pretty clear you're not. I mean, look at that cheek. What? Did you 'accidentaly' walk into the door frame or something?" He laughed lightly, obviously not meaning much. I tensed, knowing he was only kidding, but if he knew why I was covered in make-up, he wouldn't be laughing.

"Look here you ass, you have no idea what you're talking about, nor who you're talking to. I may be small, but I have a bite. So you better run off right now," I seethed. I knew I couldn't do much, besides threaten and lie, but it was better than admitting the reason why I was so...me. He rolled his eyes, standing up. He didn't bother pointing out my fib, all he did was stare.

Shaking his head, he turned and walked off, but stopped in his tracks, and then he turned back. "I came to tell you we have some work to do. So I need you number, to make some plans," he said, boredom in his voice.

I shrugged as I ate my sandwich, and as calmly as I could, I told him, "I don't have one. Too bad, it looks like we're not working on our project anytime soon." Hmm, that is one good sandwich. I took another bite, not bothering to think of how rude it would look. Rude? Why, I live that every day.