Poker Face | Bruce Wayne

twenty eight

* I'm going to flag this chapter as underaged, just because the characters are currently seventeen here. Nothing too serious though. Read on at your discretion :)

23 YEARS EARLIER

Meredith walked down the halls of Gotham Academy, nose deep in an economics book. She had a presentation for the GAIA the next day, and had to make sure all of her information was correct— not like it always wasn't, but preparation never hurt.

She glanced up as she turned a corner to make sure she didn't run into anything. Down the hallway she spotted Bruce, leaning against a locker and offering a bright grin to some blonde named Chelsea. Meredith rolled her eyes.

Bruce and Oliver had recently ventured into the concept of being "playboys," as Oliver so coined it. She wasn't entirely sure what had happened to Bruce— at first, he was adamantly against it, but slowly Meredith watched the boy become more responsive to his typical plethora of followers— specifically the girls. And very specifically the attractive girls.

She watched the blonde giggle and hand her books to Bruce, who so graciously offered to carry them as they traveled down the hall.

Meredith narrowed her eyes. Bruce had never offered to carry her books before. (Not that she wouldn't decline— because she could definitely handle herself— but the offer would've been nice, regardless.)

The bell rang before Meredith could dwell any further on the subject.

Later at lunch, she was walking to her usual table where she, Bruce, and Oliver sat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver laughing with two of Chelsea's friends, some brunettes Meredith couldn't remember the names of.

She sat down at the table with her bookbag beside her. Oliver seemed busy, and Bruce rarely ever showed up at lunch these days. She exhaled in irritation. Both boys had gotten their licenses and now were never home— always at some party or seeing some girls or at some event.

And Meredith was invited, of course, and of course she declined because she had better things to do than waste her time with underaged drunks, but she rarely ever saw Bruce or Oliver anymore. Even when she did, they were always talking about this girl or that girl or blah blah blah— why didn't Meredith get that kind of attention from Bruce?

Or Oliver. Oliver, too.

Not that she only cared about Bruce because she most certainly didn't.

Meredith eyed the two girls Oliver was talking to. What about them made him want to talk to them so badly?

She noted their uniforms for the very first time. Their skirts were slightly shorter, with higher socks and tighter blazers. All not technically allowed by school dress code, but if your parents had enough money the rules never truly applied to you, anyway.

Meredith glanced down at herself. She'd never thought she was unattractive, she'd honestly just never really noticed her physical appearance. She liked to dye her hair darker. And wear pink lipgloss. And pluck her eyebrows thinner. But that was all mostly to look presentable at her dad's office— never to impress a boy.

She looked back up at the girls. She'd admit, they did look cute.

Meredith narrowed her eyes again.

She could probably do it better. Meredith Elias always did everything better, after all.

Perhaps... perhaps it was time she changed up her look.

* * *

As the week had gone by, Meredith did what Meredith did best and conducted a study of why Bruce and Oliver were so attracted to the girls they talked to. It was the only logical way to figure out what she needed to do to improve her appearance.