°°Bad Boys in Leather Jackets and White T's are common but a guy in glasses with straight As is just as equally sexy.°°
Rainey Slate has a past she tells to no one, secrets she wishes not to share. She is viewed as the 'bad girl' but there is more t...
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~I've been watching you for some time. Can't stop staring at those oceans eyes. Burning cities and napalm skies, fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes. Your ocean eyes~ Billie Eilish.
Chapter Theme Song: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish.
A/N: Swipe left for the song audio :)
• If you decide to read this book, please abstain from negative and discriminative comments. There is a huge difference between constructive criticism and just being plain rude. Disrespectful and discouraging comments will not be tolerated. You will be instantly muted. If you don't like the story, just exit. Please. You don't have to say anything at all, just exit.
THIS BOOK WAS WRITTEN FIRST. IF YOU FIND ANYTHING TOO SIMILAR LET ME KNOW ASAP.
°°
Rainey
"I can guarantee that you will enjoy being here at Crosshill High Rainey, consider this a fresh start." Principal Cameron asserts while she beams at me from across the mahogany table.
I offer a weak smile before averting my eyes to the stripes on my plaid skirt.
"This will be the perfect opportunity for her to forget what happened at Freetown High. She will like it here." She smiles reassuringly at my mother, and while they engage in their chatter, the door to the office opens. I turn my head in its direction as a boy walks in, his strides are lazy as he grins at his phone screen, the light illuminating his perfect rows of teeth.
"Oh, Good Morning Jace, this is Rainey, could you show her around? She's new here." Mrs. Cameron smiles at the guy who finally looks up. His eyes shift between the principal's and mine, then he offers a half-smile, but his hazel orbs tell his reluctance to be in this position.
"Go ahead, Rainey. I will be back to pick you up after five this evening." My mother says, as I conjure up from my chair and nip over to the guy whose head has resumed its position in his cell. He lets out a deep cackle as he leads the way through the door, and I tug the hem of my skirt further down my thighs.
The uniform is uncomfortable. A white dress shirt on a dusty premises screams suicide and the green and dark blue plaid skirt make the uniform seems more preparatory than not.
As we walk down the hall in silence, he hasn't said much except his self-conversations while he continues his giggles at his phone. I pretend not to be annoyed, mentally taking notes of my surroundings and refusing to ask for his assistance since it appears, he doesn't want to be of aid.
I pull my bag open while we walk, retrieving my timetable from the textbook it sits between before zipping my bag up and scanning the paper for my first class.
