The Fire We Make: Addicted To A Boss's Love

Chapter Twelve

2007

"What the hell is she wearing?" Jacqueline Stewart, the captain of the dance team, questioned with a sneer before cackling amongst her group of friends as Ayla strolled into the classroom, returning from the restroom. Realizing that the group of teenage girls was referring to her, the young girl released a defeated sigh as she slipped into her desk. Why did people feel like they had to have an opinion on everything?  She thought to herself as she slouched in her chair.

"What do numbers like 4,9,16, and 25 have in common?" Mr. Peterson asked as he stood at the head of the classroom, pulling Ayla from her worrisome thoughts. She sat upright, eagerly raising her hand. The teacher smiled meekly before calling on her.

"They're all perfect squares," she stated proudly, certain that she had answered correctly.

"Nerd!" Jeffery Donovan coughed, causing the classroom to erupt in laughter. Ayla frowned as she returned to her previous position, sinking into her desk and wishing that she could just disappear.

"Thank you, Ayla. That is correct," Mr. Peterson said, giving her a warm smile. She nodded before lowering her gaze.

"Hey, Lala..." Naim whispered, leaning over the side of his desk. The teenage girl looked to the right of her, remaining silent as she glanced over at him with a quirked eyebrow. "You understand this?" he queried. Ayla stifled a laugh; he had the cutest, most confused look on his face.

Ayla groaned internally as she quickly reverted her attention to the front of the classroom. Who was she kidding? There was no way Naim Carver would ever find her attractive.

She huffed, pushing her thoughts aside before nodding her head in response to his question. Naim was one of the most popular guys in school. He was a star athlete and had a smile that could beckon any girl in his direction. Not to mention, he was a senior and close friends with her twin brothers, Terrance and Terreik.

Ayla on the other hand was only a frail, scrawny figure with a short cut and boyish shape. She knew that guys like him never went for girls like her, and she was content with that. What she wasn't okay with was the constant judgement.

Instead of being praised for her smarts, she was teased quite often. Because she was smart and kept to herself, she was often perceived as stuck up.

When she attempted to interact with others, they looked at her as if she were speaking another language. She didn't fit in and she was aware of that, so why did people feel the need to constantly remind her of it?

"You think you could help me out with this?" Naim asked.

"Sure," Ayla agreed, shrugging before turning her attention back to their teacher. Naim wasn't dumb at all, he just didn't pay attention sometimes. Other things tended to preoccupy his mind, such as girls, of course.

Later in the day, Naim showed up at Ayla's house for a tutoring session. She was glad to lend a helping hand, but thirty minutes into the session, she was starting to regret her decision. What did I get myself into? She thought.

The young girl sighed, removing her glasses. "Naim, can you at least try to pay attention?"
He released an exasperated sigh, tossing his pencil before running a hand over his face. "I don't get this shit," he complained.

"Because you're not focusing," she argued as she snatched his phone out of his hand, narrowing her eyes at him.

He chuckled before replying, "You're cute when you're frustrated." 

Ayla paused, caught off-guard by his statement. "I am?" she murmured, her voice filled with uncertainty. She wasn't quite sure that she'd heard him correctly. Naim smirked while nodding his head. The teen blushed, looking away from him. "I... um... thanks, I guess."