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First Name Basis - Chapter 4
I walk out of class in a daze, not sure whether to tell the girls what just happened or not. I mean, it’s one thing to joke about it and play around, but I could actually get him fired for this… And though it’s kind of hot, I definitely didn’t save his number as ‘Professor Malik’ in my phone. I put it in as Zayn, praying that if the girls go through my contacts they won’t remember that that is his first name.
“Are you okay?” Torian asks sweetly, giving me a sad smile and resting her hand on my shoulder.
I nod in reply, about to respond when my phone starts going off like crazy. I look down and notice 11 unread text messages from Wyatt, and an incoming phone call. “What is it Wy?”
Marely’s interest is immediately peaked, but I ignore her request to have the phone when I hear the pained expression in my brother’s voice. “Elle, can you please come get me?” When he’s not using my usual nickname, you know something’s up.
“What’s going on Wyatt?” I demand gently, walking past Marley and Torian as I fast walk towards the student parking lot and my car.
“I sort of got suspended…” He murmurs.
“Wyatt…” I sigh, climbing into the car. Marley and Torian are quick to follow, not caring that they’re missing the rest of the days classes. “What did you do?”
“I decked this kid..”
“Jesus Christ Wyatt. What are Elizabeth and Carl going to think?” I grumble, whipping out of the parking lot at high speed.
“Screw them!” He snaps, and I think I can hear tears in his voice. “They’re never around anyways… You know they only adopted us to keep up an image. They would never understand why I did it anyways…”
“And why did you do it?” I murmur, expecting to hear that someone gave him a dirty look or told him they didn’t like his haircut. I don’t get that answer.
“He was making fun of my scars…” He whispers, and I slam on the breaks, causing Marley and Torian to yell in protest.
“He. Did. What?!” I growl, putting emphasis on every word. “I’ll be there in five minutes. That kid is getting expelled.” I hang up the phone and hit the gas, anger flowing through every inch of my body.
Both my brother and I have plenty of well hidden scars marking our bodies. Scars most people never see. We tell most people they’re from a car accident, but that’s not at all true. After our parents died, we lived with a lot of foster families before Elizabeth and Carl adopted us. Not all of them were that great. You can assume where our scars came from based on that.
“What happened with Wyatt?” Marley asks anxiously, looking at me uneasily from the passenger seat.
“He got suspsened. Come on.” I growl, parking in front of his shitty little high school and marching inside like I own the place. Torian and Marley are quick to follow.
It must be passing time or something because streams of kids are flowing through the halls. Pretty much every male turns to gawk at us, and normally I’d be flipping my hair and perking up my lips just to fuck with them, but I just push through all the acne ridden shits that are in my way and stamp into the front office.
Wyatt sits in a chair with his legs apart and his head down, nodding every once and awhile to the dick of a principle, I thank the lord I don’t have any more, every few seconds. The ladies who answer phones and gossip about who’s pregnant and which faculty members are hooking up try to grab my attention, but I walk straight up to Principle Figgins without so much as a falter in my step.
“What the hell is going on here?” I demand, causing both Wyatt and Figgins to jump.
Figgins takes one look at me and scowls. “You should not be here Giselle, I called Wyatt’s parents to come pick him up.”
“First of all,” I start angrily, “he’s my brother, so that would be our parents, and second of all they’ve been in Guam for three weeks so I’m the only one here who can pick him up. Now if you’d like to tell me what the hell is going on here, I would be pleased.” Marley and Torian snicker behind me, but I ignore them.
“Mr. Miller here is in trouble for hitting another student. He’s been suspended for the rest of the week.” Figgins mutters, stuttering over half his words as he tries not to look behind me and stare at Torian’s boobs.
I snort. “And where is the other student? If I recall correctly, any student involved in a fight is suspended for a minimum of the rest of the day.”
Figgins eyes get wide. “Well, the fight seemed to have been unprovoked so –”
“Unprovoked my ass!” Wyatt growls, jumping up and pointing to the circular scars on his upper arms. “You call being mocked for this unprovoked?!”
“You know what?” I smile sweetly, with a hint of I-will-beat-the-living-shit-out-of-you behind it. “I’ll just take this up with the district manager. Enjoy the last week of your job, Figgins. C’mon Wyatt, let’s go.” I growl grabbing his shoulder and leading him away.
He walks ahead and takes Marley’s hand, instantly launching into the story of what happened. Torian flips her hair and strides after me, obviously not impressed with Figgins inability to stare at her tits. “Move it dweebs.” I yell, shoving through the students once again as we head to my car. “We’re going back to the house. I need to make a phone call, then we can go out and do something.”
“Can we go to the mall?” Wyatt mutters, climbing into the back seat with Marley. “I sort of need some new clothes…”
“Sure.” I reply, grabbing his credit card from my wallet and handing it to him. “Elizabeth can suck my imaginary dick if she thinks this isn’t an emergency.”
“Thank god I got my allowance yesterday…” Torian mutters. Poor baby, her parents give her an allowance once every two months, and it barely amounts to $100. Sometimes I think it gets hard for her to hang out with me and Marley, who both live in extremely wealthy households. Then again, we also buy her iphones for Christmas and take her on regular shopping sprees. So I guess it’s not too bad.
“We’ll pitch in.” Marley shrugs, leaning over and making out with my brother. Ew, don’t puke… Just don’t look in the review mirror.
“Besides,” I turn and give her a wink. “We need matching outfits for the rest of the week.”
As soon as we’re done at the mall, I fake cramps and say I want to go to sleep as soon as we get home. Wyatt makes a gagging noise in the back of his throat and Marley and Torian start with the ‘oh poor baby’ and ‘do you need midol’ shits I hate. So, I decline and go upstairs to hide in my room. The seconds the door is closed, I start blasting The Way We Talk so no one will eaves drop on me and go out onto my balcony to talk.
“Hello?” He answers on the first ring. I can’t decide if that’s cute or creepy. I lean further towards cute.
“Hey, Zayn.” I say nervously. In person where I look hot is one thing, it’s another to just sit around on the phone like an awkward piece of shit. “It’s Giselle.”
“Oh, hi.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and allow myself a quiet sigh of relief. “Where are you right now?”
“I’m about to climb down my balcony and meet up with you.” I say casually, as if the fifteen foot drop into rose bushes isn’t a big deal.
He laughs. “There is such a thing as a door, you know?”
“I know.” I shrug, then feel like an idiot after realizing he can’t see me. “But that would imply being questioned by my brother, Tori and Marley. And I’m just not up for that right now.”
“Well…” He mumbles, and I can hear the uneasiness in his voice. He doesn’t want them to know. And that’s a huge fucking secret for me to keep. “I just finished my last class of the day. How about you drop by my mine and we can figure out what this is?”
“Sure.” I keep a calm tone to my voice, even though I’m actually flipping shit and trying not to die. “Just text me the address.”
I’m about to hang up when he says, “And Giselle?” I mumble a quick, ‘mhm’ in response, already riffling through my purse for my keys. “Wear something nice.” I almost ask why, but he hangs up, leaving me to riffle through my closet to find the right balance between badass and classy bitch.
The second I reach my flat, I race up the stairs to open the door and get ready, but it’s already open. What the fuck I locked it this morning; I know I did. So I pull out my phone, ready to dial the police as I head inside. Upon the entry way, it doesn’t even look like anyone has been in here. Nothing broken or misplaced…
“Are you going to stand in the hall all day or what?” A voice laughs, and my nerves wrack up significantly as Giselle’s head pokes around the corner at the end of the hall. “So, you going to shut that door or what?” She smirks, emerging with her hands on her hips.
I roll my eyes, and turn around, beginning to shut the door carefully. Before I even have it half way closed her hand slams it shut, and suddenly her breath is in my ear. “If you do everything as slow as you shut doors, we might have a problem.” But then she laughs, and when I turn around her eyes are sparkling mischievously.
“What did you break?” I question half-heartedly. I’m pretty sure she could talk me out of being mad at her if she’d sold my kidney on the black market.
“Nothing.” She looks mildly confused, and maybe a bit insulted.
“Then why do you have the look of someone excited about having just robbed a bank”
She laughs, kissing my neck softly before turning and waltzing down the hallway. I follow closely behind, uncannily drawn to the girl I should never have kissed but was still thinking about kissing again. “I just jumped off my balcony, snuck away from my friends, and I am currently standing in the middle of my English teachers flat, pretty ready for a hot make out session. So, I am feeling pretty bad ass right now.”
I laugh, then cut myself off. Her dress is brilliant, simple and white with a few black flowers, and I can’t help but appreciate the fact that she is the only girl I know to wear tennis shoes with a dress. She has a black messenger bag slung over her shoulder, not nearly as full as you would expect a girls purse to be, and mild amounts of jewelry (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=78706125). But that isn’t what stops my laugh. What stops it is the small trail of blood running from her knee to her ankle. “You’re bleeding.” I murmur, setting her down gently on the couch and examining the small wound.
“Shit.” She breathes, laughing a little. “I didn’t even notice.”
“How did you manage that?” I call over my shoulder as I walk into the bathroom and return with a bottle of peroxide and a cloth.
“I may or may not have landed in a rose bush…” She giggles, looking at me nervously. “You don’t need to do that you know.” She whispers, gesturing with her hand toward the her on my lap as I gently clean the wound. “I uh- I can do it.”
I shake my head. “It’s alright.” I say casually. “I don’t mind.” She lets out a small whimper as I go to put the peroxide down, and for a moment I think it’s because her cut hurts her, but when I look back I notice that my hand is resting on her upper thigh, dangerously close to exactly where it shouldn’t be. I pull it back in a hurry. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up.” She murmurs, sliding across the couch so she’s sitting in my lap. I keep my hands at my sides, unsure of whether I will be able to control myself. This girl does something to me… And then she wraps her arms around my neck, and drapes herself forward, biting her lip as her eyes flick back and forth across mine. “Don’t ruin this, okay?”
I just nod, and suddenly her lips are on mine and my eyes are closed and my hands find their way to her hips, pulling her as close to me as I get her. Involuntarily, my hands roam up and down her body, but she doesn’t seem to mind. After about ten minutes I lose all sense of control and pick her up, holding onto her tightly as I carry her up the stairs, out lips still locked and our eyes still closed, I stumble into the bedroom. Carefully, I lay her down in the bed. Our lips finally parted, she gives me a scared look as she reaches behind her back and unzips her dress. Jesus Christ this is so wrong…
“Are you sure?” I whisper, leaning forward and laying soft kisses on her neck anyways.
She takes a while to answer, kissing me all over and unbuttoning my shirt. “I’m sure.” She whimpers, and then we go all the way. And I can’t even manage to hate myself for it, because she feels amazing and it all feels so right. Soft whimpers escape her lips, but she does all the right things. And it lasts for hours, leaving both of us exhausted. And when the deed is done she curls up with her head on my chest, drawing small patterns.
“You don’t regret it do you?” She whispers, and I think it is the only time I’ve ever heard Giselle seem vulnerable.
I shake my head, tilting her head up and kissing her again. Tracing my way from her lips to her neck, to her collarbones and the curve of her breast. “Not for a minute.” I whisper, and she stays the night.