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Justine Reynolds.
I need to absorb that name at least five times in my head.
She's a senior in our very own Dalton High, placing herself right at the top of the social ladder. She has the looks — delicate face, golden hair, proportional body — and the personality, too, apparently. You'd think girls like her would be mean and cruel, but she's actually pretty decent. Most of the time. Some of the time. When she's not intimidating.
Okay, so she's kind of like those mean girls.
That's not what people talk about, though. No, the thing about her that gets people talking is her taste in guys. Or lack thereof.
No, she's not a lesbian. She likes dicks. But which type of dick is the better question.
Out of all her dating records, she's neverdated anyone younger than her. Including guys her age, even if they have an eleven-month head start from her. So for Trey, who's a junior like me, it's nearly impossible. I don't know if it's her specific preference, if she thinks younger guys are immature, or if it's just a random coincidence. I don't know anything.
But I know someone who does.
***
TJ might be a douchebag, but he's a handy douchebag.
Why? Because he's deeply invested in school affairs. And when I say affairs I mean all affairs — academic and non-academic matters alike.
I wait impatiently outside his classroom. I'm aware that I look like one of his little cronies trying to win his approval, but I don't have any other choice. I need to catch him first before he decides to ignore me.
Finally, he shows up among the string of students pouring out of class. When he spots me, he instantly grins. Clearly he thinks I'm here for his amusement. He gestures me with two fingers to follow him, and turns around without checking. I silently fume.
Douchebag.
We reach to a secluded corner and he faces me with the same glint in his eyes. I cross my arms.
