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“Nathan!”

When the familiar blonde guy enters the five meter radius around our table, I take the opportunity to pounce on him.

“Whoa,” he says, laughing as I come to a sharp halt in front of him. “Excited to see me?”

“I have a test in, like, half an hour’s time,” I explain with a despairing expression etched across my face. “And I need help. Last minute study session?”

The algebra test next period will be the first we’ve sat since Mr. Moore first paired up Nathan and I as study partners. Usually, they didn’t concern me much – I always know I’m going to flunk, so preparation for seeing that F grade scrawled on the front is usually the best option – but today’s is my one chance to prove that I’ve actually learned something from Nathan’s tutoring.

And that I’m not a complete idiot.

“Okay,” he agrees with a nod. In a matter of seconds, we’ve navigated our way around the nearby tables and seated ourselves at the one where Ava’s dissecting her lunch. Then he turns to me with an encouraging smile. “So, what do you want to go over?”

“Everything.”

He raises his eyebrows for a moment, but instead of commenting (or asking whether I’ve listened to a word he’s said since he started tutoring me), he delves into his bag and retrieves the algebra textbook. The textbook which, following how many times I’ve seen it this past week, kind of makes me want to throw it at the nearest wall every time I catch sight of it.

However, I’m able to control my textbook-throwing urges and tune into the explanation Nathan begins giving me.

Because, quite frankly, if I fail this test, I’m dead.

And I quite like living. Some of the time.

Surprisingly, a lot of the explanations he’s giving are actually making sense – something that’s never happened with math before. Usually, the numbers (or letters, in this stupid class) end up rearranging and jumbling themselves up on the page, leaving me with no hope of ever figuring out what’s actually needed.

But this time, I kind of understand why there’s a random y slapped in the middle of the sum.

Which kind of makes me want to stand up on the table and scream hallelujah! at the top of my voice. You know, if that wasn’t so weird.

“So the answer’s three?” I say, cutting off the end of Nathan’s explanation.

“Yeah,” he responds, a wide smile gracing his features. “That’s it! You understand now?”

“I think so.” To be honest, I’m completely dumbfounded that anyone could actually succeed in teaching me a subject I’ve sucked at ever since it was first introduced to me. All it’s taken is a few after school study sessions with a guy who actually knows what he’s talking about, and voila! I’m a math genius.

Not really, but you get the picture.

My eyes flicker randomly across the cafeteria, momentarily searching for anything interesting that might be occurring. Cheerleader bitch fights, hot transfer students... anything out of the ordinary, really. However, instead of witnessing some of Charlotte’s cronies clawing at each other with manicured nails, my gaze lands on something else over at the A-list table.

Connor. Staring directly at me. With a glare boring into me so strongly I wonder if he’s developed laser vision.

And when I look at him, he doesn’t look away.

Oh, no. I’ve done this before. There is no way I’m getting into another staring contest – especially one across the cafeteria. What happened to his whole “subtly giving the cold shoulder” thing at school? Shooting daggers at someone in plain view of everyone isn’t exactly the best way to keep things on the down-low.

“Um... I’m just going to head to the bathroom,” I tell Nathan, keen to remove myself from Connor’s glaring range. I rise from my seat, sending him a small smile. “I’ll be back in a sec, and then we can go over... that other thing. The quadratic?”

“Okay.”

Abandoning my lunch (which I didn’t really plan on consuming anyway), I hasten toward the doors whilst making an effort to keep my head down. I can’t really work out the reasoning behind Connor’s daggers... is it something I’ve done? Shaking the thoughts from my head, I enter the quiet hallway and begin to make my way towards the girls’ bathroom.

It’s empty when I go in, but doesn’t stay that way for long. Within seconds of locking myself in the closest stall, the telltale squeak of the door resounds through the tiled room. I don’t take much notice... or at least I don’t until I hear the mention of my name.

That’s when my ears prick up.

“Don’t even get me started on Georgie,” a loud voice says obnoxiously, as a pair of shoes clatter on the tiles. “I mean, she was a freak before, but this weird little obsession with Connor she’s got? I’m telling you, it’s creepy.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out which bitch stands on the other side of the stall door.

“Did you hear that she was at Connor’s party?” a second voice comments. “Apparently she sneaked in.”

“Well, that’s the only way she’d ever get into one,” Charlotte responds with a snigger, “but yeah. Connor said something about her getting in. I don’t know who actually let her – unless she climbed in the window or something. I wouldn’t put it past her; she’s always desperate for attention.”

“I know, right?”

“And then he told me she was all over him. I mean, yeah, right. Like Connor would ever go for a little freak like her. Especially when he could have me. It’s so pathetic.”

That’s when I snap. I honestly can’t listen to another word out of their stupid mouths, especially when they know so little about anything that’s gone on in the last couple of weeks. Instead of hiding out in the stall until they’ve gone (which would be the more rational option, if I’m honest), I yank open the door and storm out into the sink area, where Charlotte and her closest clone, Morgan, are smearing lip gloss over their already greasy-looking lips.

For any normal person, seeing the person you’ve just been gossiping loudly about tear out of a stall behind you would, at the very least, be insanely awkward.

However, in Charlotte’s case, my reflection in the mirror causes a half-smug smile to slip onto her face.

“Uh, excuse me?” I say, shooting what I hope is a menacing look in her direction.

“Oh, it’s you.” Her apathetic tone only infuriates me even more as she continues applying her never-ending supply of gloss. “Eavesdropping, were we?”

“I heard a couple of things,” I spit back. “Enough to know that you’re spreading complete lies about me.”

Charlotte pauses, dragging her eyes away from her reflection long enough to turn towards me. She cocks her head to the side slightly, feigning innocence. Unfortunately, that’s one thing she’ll never be able to master – Charlotte’s about as innocent as a porn star, which happens to be a suitably fitting analogy. “I’ve been saying nothing but the truth, Georgie.”

“No, you haven’t! Everything I’ve heard you say in the last two minutes has been a lie.”

“So you didn’t sneak into Connor’s party?”

Crap. So I had kind of forgotten about that one. Maybe I did attend on Saturday without a specific invitation, but Ava and I had been the ones organizing it in the first place. Surely that doesn’t count.

Charlotte smirks when she sees my expression, knowing she’s caught me out.

“Okay, whatever,” I say. “I went to the party. But none of the other stuff is true. I did not climb through a window, I am not desperate for attention and I definitely was not all over your boyfriend!”

“That’s not what he told me.”

“Then he’s a liar!” I yell a little louder than intended. My words bounce off the tile-covered walls, hanging in the air for at least a couple of seconds after leaving my lips. For a moment, the bathroom is silenced; the only audible sound being the steady breathing of the three people inside.

“Look, I don’t care what kind of creepy stalker thing you’ve got about Connor,” Charlotte says threateningly, taking a step closer to me, “but I know one thing. He is my boyfriend, therefore my property, and I want you to stay the hell away from him.”

I stare determinedly back at her, feeling the anger rise inside me.

Georgie, no. Don’t say it. I know you want to, but you can’t say it. It will cause way more trouble than it’s worth.

Whatever you do... don’t say it.

“Well, if your boyfriend is your “property”, as you put it... then why did he let me stay the night on Saturday after the party?”

Oh, crap. I said it.

“What?” Charlotte’s face is priceless – a mixture between shock, disbelief and fury. She seems to have sensed from my tone of voice that I’m not kidding about this one, and she’s far from happy about it. “What the hell are you talking about?”

For some reason, my brain seems to have lost control of my speech. So, despite how much I’m screaming at myself to shut up right now, it’s just not cooperating. Not the best course of action in a situation like this.

And by “like this”, I mean where you’ve just told your mortal enemy that you kind of slept in her boyfriend’s bed the other night, all while she was forced to make her own drunken way home.

“You heard me,” I say challengingly. “Go ask him if you don’t believe me.”

Maybe, in hindsight, not the best thing to say.

“You’re a slut, Georgie Howard, you know that?” she snaps, narrowing her perfectly outlined eyes as she draws emphasis on her spiteful words. “Maybe you took this stalker thing a step further than I thought. But consider this your last warning: stay well away from Connor, or you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”

With that, she shoves me backwards before taking the opportunity to yank open the door and storm out of the bathroom, Morgan in tow.

It only takes a few seconds, standing alone amongst the stalls and sinks, for realization to seep in.

The realization that I may have just made the worst mistake of my life. Oh, God. Why on earth did I think even for a second that telling Charlotte about Saturday night was a good idea? It’s crystal clear now that I couldn’t have been more wrong. Nothing good can ever come from angering her.

Connor is going to kill me.

That is, if Charlotte doesn’t kill him first.

As I stand rooted to the spot, frozen half from surprise and half from terror, only one thought crosses my mind.

What the hell have I done?

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It's late. It's short. I'm a bad person :( Sorry guys, I'm not on the best terms with my writing at the moment. I thought 2 weeks off school would give me a chance to get ahead again, but I've been stuck on the same chapter for a week and I'm not writing well. Also getting a tumblr hasn't helped, lol. (By the way, if you have one, follow me: http://leighetc.tumblr.com 'cause I follow back)

Not making any promises on days but if I get 120 comments I'll make a massive effort to get it up earlier than it would be otherwise <3