Jessica Grayson has struggled with body dysmorphia and bullying for most of her life. And when she believes she has finally turned things around for herself, she is betrayed and made fun of by her boyfriend and close friends, which sends her into a...
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I keep my head down as we head inside. A few people glance at us, and I hear hushed whispers and the word Crack Head being used a few times.
I am used to the name-calling, so I don't really let it get to me anymore. Besides, I have made a promise to stand up for myself this year.
I put in the new combination and unlocked my locker. Just as I start unloading my books, Steff grabs my arm.
"Look who's here." She says.
I look up to see Brittany and Shannon walking down the hall. An evil smirk is plastered across Brittany's face as she makes her way towards us. Panic swells in my chest. I am so not ready to face them yet. So I slam my locker shut and cowardly turn around to make a run for it.
I try the nearest classrooms, and I thankfully find one that's unlocked.
"Shit!" I curse. "Fuck!" I shove my fingers through my hair.
So much for standing up for myself.
My heart jolts when I hear someone clearing their throat. I look at the owner of the voice, and a pair of eyes meet mine.
The stranger gets up from the back row and walks towards me, taking long, graceful strides, lazily carrying a backpack over his shoulders. I stand frozen like a statue, watching him approach. His dark hair falls below his ears, and the swirl of ink that's peaking out from under his shirtsleeves contrasts with his creamy skin.
I open my mouth several times, but nothing comes out. I'm mortified that this, rather good-looking, boy just witnessed my private moment.
"I didn't. . . I didn't know anyone was here."
His eyes are a splash of greens and browns with streaks of amber mixed in there, creating a fascinating magnum opus. I want to look away, but I can't.
"What could possibly be wrong this early in the day? That was a lot of profanities."
He has a voice that matches his dark features. My eyes dart to his inked arms once again before inevitably resting on his eyes.
"Sorry, I thought I was alone," I say, ignoring his question.
He stares at me.
I feel my cheeks start to heat up, and I visibly squirm under his scrutiny.
"Well?" I huff, unwilling to show how uncomfortable I am under his gaze. "Is there anything else? Because I would like to be alone."
One side of his mouth lifts with a small hint of a smile.
"I was here first." He says.
"So?"
"You leave."
Unbelievable! I am clearly the one having a bad day. As I glare at him, a light bulb suddenly goes off in my head and my eyes widen.
