She's not getting mad. She's getting even.
Lola Melese has it all: a great job, the worlds most entertaining best friend, a loving boyfriend and a squeaky clean reputation.
That is until her all-american boyfriend cheats.
Now, Lola's regarded as the...
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"I THINK I'M still suffering from the sleep deprivation I experienced last week," I groan, sliding into the seat next to Amethyst.
She makes a noise of acknowledgement around the hefty sandwich she's currently biting into. I know her dad's made it by size alone.
Cole has an incompetence when it comes to knowing portion size, since he works with buff men, he's used to needing a lot of protein and other types of things in his sandwiches. He doesn't understand that there's really no reason for Amethyst to be demolishing a one-kilogram sandwich that has so many types of meat it's bound to make any vegetarian pass out.
But who's to judge? Especially if I get fed as well.
"Nah, nothing can beat last week. You were a slug in English Lit. You're never a slug in that class."
"True." I'm a bit of a teacher's pet.
"Thank God you aren't, that little rat Stephanie wouldn't shut up if you didn't speak."
"She's not that bad," I try to defend.
Amethyst eyes me, "Steph isn't that bad? Ms 'I have an opinion on things that I don't know about and use big words to sound smart in my nasal voice?' She isn't that bad?"
I bite back my smile, "Okay, maybe she is that bad."
Our joint laughter is the track that has me leaning over the table so I can pick a piece of stray meat that's slipped out of the beefy burger.
Her button-like nose draws up as I place it into my mouth. "That's unhygienic."
My eyes roll back at that: "It's not like you're disease-ridden. Plus," I begin, eyeing the sesame-seed bun burger with an extra level of hunger that's developed after having a taste. "There's a higher chance of car oils being in there."
Ames draws the sandwich closer to her chest, "Absolutely not."
"There's always a chance." It doesn't help that Cole believes that ink is considered a 'mineral' and says dirt — although not planned for — can help strengthen our immune system.
It's safe to say I didn't touch a place at the Schwarz's house for a week after that.
"Nuh uh, dad didn't make this. Tate did."
My brows draw up at that, "Really? I didn't know he had it in him."
"Didn't know he had what? The ability to get two pieces of bread together and make a sandwich?"
"If that's all that went into it maybe your pea-sized brain could reciprocate the recipe." Tate's voice whispers past my ear. I straighten up almost instantly before looking over my shoulder to meet his warm smile. "Hey Lola," he greets, plucking out a chip from my opened Doritos packet.
I swat his lingering hand away, but he's already taken on between his fingers.
"Don't you think this is a bit much?" I ask, through a tense smile. Surely the students aren't dumb enough to believe the sudden proximity he's currently forcing between us?
