Princess Cameron is forced to seek refuge in a private school. Despite her effort by laying low she quickly form a bond with Morgan, an annoying student who won't leave her alone. But with tensions both in and outside the walls, Cameron must decide...
I woke up with the biggest headache and a disgusting smell. I wanted to gag but I still wanted to lie down and sleep but the smell really bothered me and the weird feeling in my stomach.
Burying my face in the soft pillow I groaned and felt the gag coming. I flutter my eyes open, pursing my lips to force myself not to throw up just yet. I squint my eyes and adjust to the bright light. Dirty white colored walls, brown curtains, white bedsheets, definitely not my room.
What happened last night?
I remember going in the bar, talking to Natasha until I was tipsy. Then I met her, Cam. Why did we have to meet again? And why was she with Mat?
I turned around and brown eyes stare deep into me, surprising me and falling from the bed in the process.
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"Fuck," I muttered, rubbing my butt.
"You're finally awake," she spoke. "Here take this." She hands me water and something for my headache and I take it.
Why the fuck was Cam here with me?
Her face turned into a frown as she sat Indian style on the bed. "What the hell were you thinking getting drunk with a guy like that?"
This is too early for this. I recall getting really dizzy when this guy was hitting on me and buying me drink. I thought I could be friendly and flirt back but it was ew. Worst idea ever, I almost gagged when he was using pick up lines on me.
"That's what you do in a bar Cam, in case you didn't know."
"Don't act smart with me," she scoffed.
"So?" I replied, scoffing back and pinching the bridge of my nose. I felt cold and noticed I was only in my underwear, grabbing the blanket and cover myself with it. Where were my clothes?
"So? He could've have taken advantage of you and maybe kill you after," she muttered.
"You are over reacting."
"Over reacting? Please. It's common sense to be wary."
"Can you please shut up?"
"No."
"Why do you care what I do with my fucking life? Last time I checked I'm not the one fucking "brunettes" every week," I air quote with my fingers.
She raised a brow and unable to answer.
"Why are you even acting like you care," I hissed. She has no right. We finally met after five years and she cannot just barge in my life telling me what to do or what not to do like we were fine.
"Because you don't care enough for yourself," she mumbled and getting off from the bed, opening the door for the dry cleaning service.
