Not All Blondes Are Dumb [EDITING]

Chapter 45: You Hurt My Fragile Feelings, Leith

(:)(:)(:)

"It's funny how fast word gets around, right?" Someone muses from my left.

I tease up, watching from the corner of my eye as the most despicable person decides to sit beside me. Gritting my teeth, I refuse to turn and give him my attention. Seeing as I could only take Art for one semester, I decided to take Journalism for the second semester. Unfortunately, that meant new classmates and what better way to start the year then to have it with him.

"Who exactly sent you here to try and torture me?" I hiss furiously, trying to unclench my fingers from holding my pen too tightly.

Max Carson smirks, enjoying my discomfort. Pretending not to hear my question, he continues with his previous statement. "Jake Branders," he muses. "...with Jordan Leith? Who would've thought that the two most talked about outcasts would get together?"

I roll my eyes. "Do you even know what an outcast is?" I snap.

He lets out a low whistle. "You really are a blonde ball of fury, huh?"

"You just really know how to get under my skin," I answer sweetly before glaring at him straight on. "Trust me, I don't mean that as a compliment."

He laughs and I wonder exactly when will the teacher decide to get back from her small break. "Oh, c'mon," he prods, a smirk still on his face. "You can't seriously still be mad about what happened during soccer practice that day? I would've thought you had gotten out all of your anger when you hit me with the ball." His smile fades as his expression becomes slightly cold. "You're lucky you're a girl. A weak ass bi-"

I grab the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to me. Our faces only inches apart, I seethe at him. "What did you just call me?"

All of a sudden, I feel more and more pair of eyes staring at us, some even whispering but I push them out, focusing only on one piece of trash.

He looks me up and down, taking clear satisfaction in making me angry. "Stop looking at me," I snap, irritated beyond belief, letting his collar go. He smoothes down his shirt, looking the least bit fazed. Something about this jerk really gets on my nerves. "What is it with you and Diana always trying to get on me?"

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my sentence. "Diana doesn't like you?" He muses before shaking his head. "Never mind, of course she doesn't, she even made it clear on social media." He laughs, leaning back, not bothered in the slightest. "As to why I like bothering you?" He shrugs, his eyes glittering mirthlessly. "Why would you say that? I haven't even done anything to you since you hit me."

You're harassing me right now.

"Why are you sitting here anyways?" I ask instead, trying to relax my frown.

He grins at me. "Maybe I want to get closer to you," he purrs, laughing when he notices my discomfort.

"I could report you for harassment," I warn him.

He scoffs. "For what? I haven't even touched you and all I'm doing is sitting here." He gestures to himself and pouts at me. "Is it a crime to do that now?"

"Have you never heard of verbally being harassed?" I snap, clenching my fists.

His grey eyes flicker to my fists and he smirks. "I'm sure it's not worse than getting punched, sweetheart." He tilts his head, watching my face. "At least for this, I can charge presses."