She was there, waiting in the tiger-print lingerie, more nervous than I'd ever seen her. Her hands were trembling. "You're overdressed for a striptease," I said, my voice flat, betraying none of the storm inside. She began to move, her movements stiff with defiance. More fabric hit the floor. She was a vision. All smooth skin and tense muscle. I was disgusted by this whole situation. And I was disgusted with myself for how much I wanted her. "Such a pretty doll," I said, the words meant to wound. She froze. "Don't call me that." "Then what should I call you?" I stepped closer, invading her space. "You have my attention. What's your name?" She met my gaze, her eyes on fire behind the mask. "Téhanie. You can call me Téhanie." A small, hard-won concession. "Ivan," I offered back, a mockery of politeness. I sat down, feigning boredom. "Now, since the show is over, you can put that mouth to better use. Or turn around. Your choice."

Eyline fugue de son île natale pour intégrer un lycée dans le nord. Obstinée à se créer une nouvelle vie, elle adopte très vite la devise "Fake it until you make it". Prequel de "Lycée 4.0"