Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Forty-one

Campus is abuzz with the voices of fellow students trooping out of the lecture hall, faint laughter rings out as friends chat behind me. I meander through the dim-lit corridor like a woman on a mission with only one goal. Get away from Josh. On stepping out of the large building home to many of my classes, I close my eyes and let out a deep breath.

A voice calls out my name, my eyes jerk open, I resume walking with no clear location in mind. My hands tighten around the handle of my handbag which swings in tune with my walking step, I quicken my pace as the voice grows louder. Times like these make me wish we are in different departments, it will be easier to ignore him without him trying to catch my attention every two seconds. That boy doesn’t understand the word: space.

Someone throws a hand over my shoulders, my elbow rams into their side before it occurs to me to find out whoever it is. The arm slides off my shoulders, I spin to face the person and gasp, placing a hand over my mouth as my eyes run over her stooped frame.

“Jesus, girl.” Clarissa wheezes, hands on her knees as a bout of cough racks her body. “You have to take it easy.” Her eyes flit to mine, I freeze. “Not everyone is out to get you.”

Doubled over, she doesn’t see me reaching for her or so I think until she has my hand in a tight grip behind me. Pain travels up my joints, my bag drops to the freshly mowed grass. I grimace at the glare she throws my way, an apology works its way out of my lips.

Yeah, Clarissa is cool until she isn’t.

Clarissa frowns. “How does this feel?”

“Sorry,” I whisper and she slowly lets go after a frightening sneer. I rotate my shoulders, muster an apologetic smile and retrieve my bag, making sure the contents are intact. I hate my phone sometimes but I can’t have it getting spoiled anytime soon. When we resume walking with her leading the way, I continue, “I thought you were Josh. Sorry.”

“Are we still ignoring him?”

I fight the urge to smile. “Yes,” I reply and switch my bag to the other hand. Sometimes, I don’t understand why I bother with them but all of my things won’t fit into my pockets.

She chuckles but says nothing in response, I ruffle her hair and race to the car once I see it in sight, groaning when the passenger’s side of the door refuses to open. I hear her cries from behind, something about how long it took her to achieve this look and I scoff. What look? Winged eyeliner and red lips? Besides, if I don’t ruin her hair, who will?

Smiling at her as she approaches me in her faded jeans and polo, an outfit similar to mine with her hair flying all over her face, I stick out my tongue and she huffs. Her eyes dart to my hair, she tugs on my braided ponytail and I snicker. With how sleek my hair is, the amount of gel used, she will have to try her hardest to get a strand out of place.

Her lips pucker into a pout, I wink and we relax our weights on the car, a content smile plastered on our faces as we stare at the large expanse of land in front of us with our arms folded on our chests. The mini fountain with long, empty benches surrounding it.

My school. Our school.

Tugging on my forearm, she sniffs and I look her way. “Are you going home today?”

“No.”

Brandon can do without seeing my face another day. All we do is fight. That familiar feeling of anger courses through me, I close my eyes and let out my breath slowly. I so badly want to hurt him. Thinking of him now fills my mouth with a bad taste, I swallow.

In a clipped voice, I say, “Can we go now?”

The atmosphere is tense as I slide into the passenger seat, I fasten my seatbelt in silence, fingers already reaching for the radio but she stops me. As usual, she is not fazed by the murderous glare I direct at her, only dumps my handbag in the backseat with a smile.