Page 2 of Sweet Temptation
"I'm awake. I'm awake, Grams," I reply, trying to hide the bitterness in my tone. I let out a relieved sigh as the sound of footsteps slowly disappear from my bedroom door.
Making my way into my bathroom suite, I close the bathroom door behind me. My eyes flick over myself in distaste as I begin to undress.
Taking one last disgusted glance at my body, I turn on the shower faucet. Leaning through the stall, I reach over, checking the water every couple of seconds. It seems like a whole ten minutes pass before I finally climb into the water and, closing my eyes, let the hot water pelt down on my skin. The moment I'm wrapped around the water, I finally let my mind wander to places I probably shouldn't. Do I really want to come home today? Why can't I just make friends, for once, just once. After standing under the water for a few minutes, I bring my mind back to the present. "Maybe it'll be today… maybe today," I whisper to myself as I lather some shampoo into my hand and began scrubbing my hair thoroughly.
Once I'm clean, I turn off the faucet and step out. I scan the bathroom, a flicker of nausea climbing up my throat when I realise my towel is in my bedroom. Did I lock my door? He has my towel, doesn't he? Swallowing my nerves, I fling open my bathroom door and race across my bedroom floor, quickly flicking the lock. A sigh of relief falls from my mouth when I grip my black beach towel and wrap the fabric around me. Taking six steps back to back, I slip into my closet in search of something to wear. A small but subtle smile comes to my lips as I grip my favourite black T-shirt.
I slip my long, curvy legs into my black jeans, getting off the stool to jump my arse into them. Next, I slip the shirt over my head and pull on my long, grey, knee-length jacket. Scurrying into the bathroom once more, I brush my knee-length hair. I notice people always like my hair, but if they only knew how much work it actually is.
"You're going to be late!" my grandmother yells from behind the bedroom door.
Ignoring her, I check the clock, a scoff flying from my lips. It's seven-thirty, woman, fuck. Rolling my eyes in irritation, I grab my bag off my desk and walk out the door past her, down the stairs, side-stepping my stepbrother on my way out the front door.
I regret getting out of bed once I'm standing outside the giant collage. Why the fuck would I want the stares or even the curiosity, any of it, really. Just like I did yesterday, I swipe my hair in front of my face, ignoring every single one of them as I push through the crowd to my first class. I see a few girls look my way in disgust as they whisper to each other. Biting my lip gently, I pull my hair closer to my face. I blink a couple of times before scurrying down the hall in the direction of creative writing. I climb the stairs, glancing for an open seat. When I see my destination, I awkwardly curl my legs under my arse and take a seat by myself in the back. I pull out my notebook from yesterday and scroll over the words I jotted down until a voice interrupts my thoughts.
"You're in my seat," a deep voice growls in anger.
My eyes shoot up, locking with two ocean-blue eyes. My eyes widen at the colour, the shade. I flinch when I realise how angry they are, and how the anger is directed at me. "I fucking said you're in my god damn seat! Fucking move!" he growls, gripping the back of the chair in front of me. A small squeak falls from my mouth as I shoot to my feet and scramble to grab my stuff. The fast movement causes my arm to knock my notebook to the floor with a loud crash. An irritated sigh rumbles through me when I get on my knees to retrieve it, only for a big hand with an eagle tattoo to cover my tiny one and take the book from my hands. Slowly, I look up and meet the same ocean-blue eyes, but this time, they're softer.
Fucking hell, get your emotions in check. What am I saying? I don't even have my own in check. I get to my feet and gently take the book from his hands as a jolt of electricity runs up my arm. I flick my eyes upward, and his eyes stay on mine, even as I move sideways, even when I find a spot four seats away. His eyes remain on mine. Well, his gaze was on mine until a girl snaps his attention away from me, and his eyes go back to their regular angry look when he looks up at her.
She's beautiful. I mean, very beautiful. She has bright blue hair, like blue-blue hair, a smirky smile, and a body I would say is gold. She wears tight jean shorts and a halter crop top. "Damon." She smirks.
The ocean-eyed boy stares at her with his eyes narrowed. "Take a fucking seat, Lexi. I don't want to talk," he grumbles, pulling a book from his black leather jacket.
I gaze at the cover and read it over with narrowed eyes, Naruto. It's a picture book. I stifle a giggle, hiding it behind a cough. Of course, it's a picture book. In what world would a boy like him read books that I do? I mean, it's possible, but who actually knows? Lexi, I suppose, catches me staring at the ocean-blue-eyed boy, and her smile goes from a flirty smirk to a deep scowl in seconds when she glares at me. Fuck. I quickly avert my eyes and focus on my notebook, reading over my jotted down words.
I feel a soft smile—well, as soft as I can imagine it being directed at me—and I slowly look up to see Damon watching me. I turn my head, my gaze searching for Lexi, but she's already stomping down toward the front row. I smile, a sliver of a tiny smile, before turning my attention back to my notebook.
"Good morning, class." Professor Jade smiles as she sets her papers on her desk with a bright grin. I glance at her, waiting for her to announce what we're doing today. Praying, hoping, and maybe a tiny dream that I can handle myself.
"I would like all of you to write something traumatic that has happened in your life and hand it in tomorrow morning," Professor Jade replies softly. I stiffen in my seat, gripping my notebook aggressively as if it's my fucking lifeline. Her eyes find me, god knows how, as she continues to speak. "Not a lot of details; just explain something that you're never going to be getting over anytime soon." She smiles up at me.
I relax a little, and when I say a little, I mean like a sliver of anxiety is gone, but not enough to subdue the nausea. Slowly, I open my notebook, grab a pen, and begin to write about the worst day of my entire life. My eyes slam closed as memories resurface, and I'm back there, back on that bed. I feel my legs stiffen beneath me, my head fucking throbs. My pen topples from my fingers and hits the hardwood floor beside my feet. I gasp for air; I can see it, see it all. I find myself back in that bedroom with that cruel boy, and I can't… I grip the desk and keep my eyes closed as I see it all happening again before my eyes.
His hands. His touch. His mouth. All of it.
A scream erupts from my lips and my eyes pop open. I see Damon first, who's knelt in front of me, looking up at me with a frown. The entire class has their heads turned toward us—some curious, some sympathetic, and some disgusted. I bite my lip before getting to my feet and, grabbing all my things in a hurry to get the fuck out of here, I shove them into my bag, swinging it up onto my shoulder as I get up on shaky legs. I look up to see Damon standing before me with sympathy in his eyes. Fucking sympathy, and he doesn't even get it.
I close my eyes before I open them again. I glance around once more before walking down the stairs and out of the classroom. My heart slams in my chest and I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart as I lean against the wall outside the room. I can hear footsteps coming up behind me, like loud rocks hitting the bottom of a river, and I freeze. Turning around, I brace myself, ready to slam my foot into whoever's groin just startled me. Damon grabs my knee and gently sets me back into place.
"You alright? What was that?" he asks.
I grumble deep in my throat in annoyance. "Please, you met me five minutes ago; don't pretend to care. It's not like you do," I spit before walking down the hall, away from him and toward the quiet eating area. I take a seat and set my bag on the table, biting my lip nervously. What the fuck is wrong with me? Like, what is actually wrong with me. I slowly turn around to see if he followed, only to find I'm alone. Thank fuck.
It is exactly what I want right now. I lay my head on my forearms and sigh softly. The entire class just saw me have a flashback attack, and they're not going to have it unseen. I have class with that guy every morning for the rest of the semester. I'm totally screwed. Closing my eyes, I rest my head on my bag and take slow breaths to calm myself.
"Hanna," a voice says behind me. I spin around and lock eyes with my counsellor and flinch. I shake my head for her to leave me alone, and you'd think it would work, but it doesn't.
"Hanna, are you okay?" she asks softly.
I ignore her and turn back to my bag and stare at the wall. I hear her footsteps fade away. Closing my eyes, I drift off and must have fallen asleep because when I reopen my eyes, my entire creative writing class is here while a whole other class follows closely behind. I look up to signal it's break time for whoever has finished their classes as swarms of students gather to meet up with their friends.
"So! Hanna, is it? I'm Lexi Harrison, if you didn't already know." A cheery voice giggles, slamming her books on the table, making me jump. I come face to face with Lexi, and my heart sinks. Literally sinks because this entire conversation isn't going to be good. "That was something crazy in creative writing!" Lexi giggles again.
Her friends take a seat beside her and, to my horror, Damon sits and pulls her onto his lap. "So? You're going to tell us what that was about?" She sneers, sliding her hand over Damon. I shake my head and look away from them. I am absolutely not explaining my personal life to people I don't even know. Lexi huffs with annoyance and grips my arm with her manicured nails. "I don't take nicely to girls who stare at what is mine. I also don't like seeing idiots scream in a classroom like they're about to be murdered." She grips my arm harder, her nails digging into the skin.
A growl erupts from my throat as I glare in her direction. The audacity of this fucking girl. "If it was your bloody business, I would tell you," I growl, yanking my arm away as I shoot daggers in her direction.