What You're Not | ✔

03. Pure Ego

"Mom, you have to let go at some point," I told her, prompting her to finally release me from yet another of her hugs. It was the fifth hug that morning. "I'll see you later," I said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and hopping out of the car before she had the chance to hug me again.

Westbrook High was a lot bigger than my old school. It had two stories and a maze of stair cases and suspended walkways. The bigger school size was refreshing. It's hard to keep secrets in a small school.

After I acquired my schedule and received a short tour of where to find them —courtesy of a fast-talking, fast-walking kid named Avan—I was left alone in the hall. Feeling nervous and slightly dizzy.

"You look lost, Mermaid."

I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. He had managed to get under my skin in the most annoying way with just five words.

"Go bother someone else," I said, starting to walk away.

In the blink of an eye he was in front of me, blocking me from going any further. His lips were turned up into a mischievous grin which grew each time I tired and failed to get around him.

"You're still not mad about the whole pool thing are you?" he asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his red and gold lettermen jacket. "You should've spoken up about not knowing how to swim. I messed up my phone jumping in after you."

"And whose fault was that?" I shot back.

"Yours," he stated matter-of-factly. "Haven't you been listening?"

"Get out of my way." I tried to push him. Naturally, he didn't budge.

"Nice try," he smirked, flexing his muscles in the most exaggerated way.. "But I am pure muscle."

My eyes rolled at him. "Yeah, and five hundred pounds of pure ego." I said, finally finding a way around him.

+ + +

"Tells us your name and one interesting fact about yourself," Mrs. Hawk, the world history teacher, said to me.

I hated that part. It was torture. As if I didn't have enough to stress out about being the new girl now I had to introduce myself to a classroom full of students who couldn't care less about me.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was one student who seemed to paying attention.

Miles sat in the third row, leaning forward with his brows raised as he stared at me expectantly. I had made it through three periods without running into him and thought I'd be lucky enough to not have any classes with him.

My fault for thinking luck was on my side.

Not wanting to be the center of his attention any longer, I quickly muttered out my name and that I liked to make clothes. I thought that'd be enough for her to finally give me my seating assignment, but the universe wasn't done toying with me.

"You're into fashion?" She asked, her face lighting up. She rifled through the papers on her desk, then handed me a flyer. "You should join our fashion club. Are you wearing anything you designed today?"

I looked down at my outfit, specifically my jacket. It wasn't anything too fancy since I'm a bit rusty. I took Mom's old denim jacket and replaced the sleeves with the sleeves from a dark, floral hoodie. It was simple, but cute.

That wasn't what I told the teacher, though. To her I just said no. She looked slightly disappointed by that, but she allowed me to take a seat.

Directly in front of Miles who wasted no time to bug me. He threw a wadded up piece of paper over my shoulder and it landed on my desk. When I looked back him he motioned for me to open it. I didn't. Instead I gave it a nice home at the bottom of my bag, crushed beneath my school supplies.