FIFTY SHADES OF G'DAY

Chapter 4

Over the weekend I hadn't been able to get what Ava had said to me out of my mind. First, she told me I looked good (I already knew this, obviously, but it was the first time I had heard such a compliment from Ava). Then she told me I still wasn't her type (how is that even possible?). And then, if I wasn't confused enough already, she told me to 'step off my pedestal' before ignoring me for the rest of the night.

I kept running through the conversation that Ava and I had had when she first arrived. I had never considered that you could find someone attractive and still not consider them your type, but unfortunately, what Ava had said made perfect sense. There were plenty of people I found conventionally attractive, but was I actually attracted to them? No.

I felt accomplished knowing that Ava found me attractive, but realistically, how could she not? Finding me attractive simply wasn't enough for me, though. Never in my life had I not been someone's type, and so it was something that I refused to accept. I was determined to make Ava realise that I was her type.

'Someone who doesn't treat people like shit,' were the harsh words that Ava had used to describe her type. I may have been under the influence of alcohol, but I was sober enough to realise that she was insinuating that I, Marley Whitman, treated everyone like shit. That was what angered me the most — the girl barely knew me, and yet she was making these ridiculous assumptions about me. I have always been a perfectly nice girl.

After spending the weekend deciding on my plan of action, I had decided to confront Ava and ask her exactly what she meant by her ridiculous statement, especially since she had only known me for barely a week and a half.

As I walked into Biology on Monday morning, I couldn't stop the scowl from settling on my face as I saw the Australian girl sitting at the desk next to mine, turned in her seat and chatting to one of the boys on the football team across the room. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, she wore ripped jeans, a Tommy Hilfiger t-shirt, and those ridiculous vans with the rainbow stripe up the side.

I sat down next to her without a word, and as Mr Smith called the attention of the class, I hissed at her quietly.

"You really thought you could get away with treating me like that under my own roof, did you?"

She didn't even spare me a second glance, instead looking from the whiteboard to her work book and writing down notes. Although it seemed as if she hadn't heard me, I saw her lips curl into a tight smile. Her reply came out in a bored drawl, her accent making me twice as angry as I already was.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Marley." She accentuated the 'r' dramatically, reminding me of her first day at school when I had reprimanded her on the pronunciation of my name. I mean, seriously! What is it with Australians and their lack of the letter 'r'?

"I just don't understand why you think it's okay to be so rude to someone in their own home!" I continued angrily.

"I just don't understand why you think it's okay to be so rude to someone, full stop," she rebutted casually, still refusing to look me in the eyes. Was 'full stop' the Australian 'period'?

"I'm am not rude. You don't even know me!" I hissed at her, dropping my pen on the desk angrily and balling my fists.

"Right," she scoffed. "You were more than welcoming when I arrived."

"You think you deserve some sort of welcoming parade, do you?"

"No, I think I deserve common decency," she responded, and this time her icy blue eyes met mine. I hated that each time our eyes met each other's I recoiled and faltered — this wasn't the first time it had happened with Ava, yet it had never happened with anyone else.