Page 14 of SNOB

It can’t be.

It’s hard not to pinch myself seeing him again. His shoulders are broader in that grey sweater boasting the school’s name. He's packed on muscle, ones that can crush me way more than his presence.

He doesn’t say a word, those eyes moving to the fountain next to me. When I glance down at the water, he catches my gaze in the reflection, narrowing those Iron Eyes. In the reflection, the letters on his sweater spell out exactly what I know he is. It’s what makes him a perfect fit for this place.

S-N-O-B. Bons backwards.

A silver medal hangs from his neck, boasting his accomplishments for everyone to see. The side of his mouth upturns, just like it happened before he did the unthinkable. He blocks the sun but I still feel warmth on my skin, spreading to my insides. Swallowing hard, I try to ignore the pounding in my chest to find my words. But nothing comes.

He leans in, his breath tickling my ear and it’s hard to ignore his smell. An intense mix of spicy and sweet. Like opium. And he’s just as dangerous. “You stupid, stupid, girl.” His voice is rockier than I remember, vibrating my insides. “You’re as fucked as the whore you are.” His hand comes to my shoulder, the warmth within me intensifying.

Then a force stronger than a tornado pushes me off my feet.

FIVE

EMBER

SPLASH!

The world disappears, my breath with it.

Cold takes over my body, everything muffling.

It takes me way too long to notice how shallow this fountain is. Gasping for air makes this so much more humiliating. My grip on the stone ledge helps pull myself to my feet, coughing to get out the water lodged in my throat.

Water pouring from my hair, my eyes dart around for him, ready to pull him into this filthy fountain with me.

But he’s gone.

Laughter erupts around me, phones all pointed my way.

Fuck. My phone!

My clothes stick to my body as I reach in the fountain for my tote bag. Pulling the phone out of my bag, it’s cracked but still works. Relief washes over me. But that fades when I realize how soaked my sketchpad is.

“You smell like a wet dog,” Hannah cackles, turning on those heels. With a flip of her hair, she saunters away from the fountain. “Do yourself a favour and run along home.”

Well, aren’t we off to a great start?

I’m late to class but I won't look like a fish when I get there. I stand out enough and that fucker is trying to make it worse.

Pushing me into a fountain? Is that all he’s got?

I push the smirk forming on my face away as my socks squish against my skin. My shoes squeak against the polished wood as I search for the nearest bathroom. My appearance is even more of a mismatch for the opulence dripping from the hallways. Chandeliers hang from ornate ceilings, marble columns lining my path. Golden sconces aid in adding warmth to the cold, unwelcoming atmosphere.

I’ve hardly set foot into this massive place before Hannah and her pals made sure I know I don’t belong. It doesn’t help that students laugh and point, whispering to each other as my wet curls stick to my head.

“She’s still here.”

“What a loser.”

“She won’t last the day.”

“The bathroom is on your left when you go through those red doors.”

Wait. What?

My head whips towards the last voice.

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