A summary of my bet with Naomi: Houston, we’ve really got a problem.
It’s been a week since Kimberly Almiris transferred to Ordrienne High, and I still haven’t managed to get even a single "hi" out of her — she acts like I’m completely invisible. My classmates must’ve filled her head with so insane nonsense for her to avoid this much — that’s the only thing that makes sense.
«Fastest ti in the hundred-ter dash goes to Kimberly Almiris — eleven seconds flat. Unless sothing completely unexpected happens next week, she’ll represent Ordrienne High at the national athletics et,» Professor McCrary announces.
Professor McCrary is in his fifties, and I’m pretty sure he beca a PE teacher just to stare at girls’ butts in tight shorts — and honestly, I can’t even bla him. Watching my classmates’ butts bounce and their breasts jiggle while they run feels like reason enough to spend years studying to beco a PE teacher.
But none of them co close to Kimberly. Her boobs looks even bigger under that white T-shirt, and her shorts... God, the way they hug her ass is unreal. If I wasn’t terrified of getting expelled — and arrested — I’d probably give it a nice loud smack.
But i knew it the mont I first saw her: that body is the result of serious, constant training — and the insane ti she just ran in the hundred ters proves it.
I, on the other hand, have to settle for a miserable second place, but only because she had the luck of running after . With my vampire abilities, I could’ve easily beaten her ti, but I had to hold back to avoid raising suspicion. So I stopped at a modest 11.4 seconds — a ti that would’ve guaranteed a spot at nationals in any other year... but this ti it just wasn’t enough. Whatever. Doesn’t matter.
«Looks like the unreachable Kimberly is really unreachable,» Naomi comnts with a teasing smirk.
Okay, fine — pretty good joke. But it’ll take more than that to kill my motivation — we still have three weeks before our bet ends.
«Shut your mouth and keep your eyes open,» I say.
Kimberly’s school record is the perfect chance to start a conversation with her, and there’s no way I’m letting that slip away.
«Really, congrats, Kimberly. You were amazing!» I tell her, adding the friendliest smile I can manage. But...
«Thanks.» she replies, without even turning toward .
A cold, flat, emotionless "thanks" — the kind that kills a conversation instantly.
And she’s not like that with the others! With everyone else she’s cheerful, bright, talkative — I’ve seen her laughing and chatting with people so irrelevant I didn’t even know they were in my class until I saw them with her. What the hell is up with this girl? Whatever. No point pushing now — there’ll be better chances.
I’m about to walk away when she speaks again, in that sa distant tone.
«Thanks... for letting win,» she adds, turning her head just enough to give a sideways glance sharp.
And what the hell is that even supposed to an? I can’t tell if I should be happy that Kimberly actually spoke to again even though the conversation was basically over... or just more confused by what she said.
«I may be a gentleman, but when it cos to competition, I don’t go easy on anyone — not even pretty girls,» I reply with a cocky smile — a desperate attempt to wipe away that cold, almost contemptuous look she’s giving , like I’m so worthless extra unworthy of her attention.
«Yeah, I’m sure,» she says, walking away before I can even respond, heading straight toward a group of losers from my class.
And there she is — laughing and joking with them. Why? This girl is really starting to get on my nerves. If it weren’t for my bet with Naomi, I would’ve already told her to go to hell and stay there forever with those pathetic nobodies. But damn it... doing that would an admitting defeat and letting Naomi win — and there’s no way in hell I’m letting a girl resist . It’s never happened, and it never will.
«What the hell did you do to her? You sure you didn’t accidentally screw her mother?» Naomi asks, just as confused as I am.
She said it as a joke, but honestly, it’s not that impossible. I spent years hanging out in bars full of middle-aged won — those classy places where rich wives gather to gossip over cocktails. And every ti, I never left alone.
What if one of those won actually was her mother... and Kimberly saw us? There’s only one way to find out — tail her.
Reviews
All reviews (0)