All characters are at least 18 years old.
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Jean
I stared hard at my phone screen, eyes panning over the same few messages. This was such a dumb idea. Why the fuck was I gonna go through with it?
'Cause prof suggested it.
Yes, but why with this bitch?
'Cause there's legit nobody else.
I groaned, and prof turned to look over his shoulder, idly stirring lunch on the stove.
"Something wrong, Jean?"
Goddamn, the way he was always so caring made my cold-hard-bitch heart melt. At this rate, I was never gonna be strong enough to be with him. But this first step to being better was gonna suck ass.
"Nothing, nothing," I replied. "Just, uh... Could I go out today?"
Prof burst out laughing. "You make it sound like I've kidnapped you or something."
I shrugged, scrunching my mouth up. "You know what I mean."
"I don't. Jean, you don't need my permission to do anything. I mean, obviously don't break my stuff, things like that, I hope is a given. But if you wanna go out, go out." He gave me another one of his dazzling smiles, and I felt butterflies. "Of course I don't expect you to stay shacked up with your professor all day."
"'Kay," I mumbled, eyes darting back down to my phone. Sometimes it freaked me out that prof was so nice, like it all had to be fake. Life didn't suddenly get this good out of nowhere. He was so sweet to me, letting me stay at his place, paying for stuff, even playing along with my crush on him. Like what the fuck. I was just waiting every day for the other boot to drop. Where was the catch? There was always a fucking catch.
"I gotta ask, where are you going, though?" Prof plated our lunch and brought it over to the table, sitting down so we could eat. "I'm not trying to track where you go, but just in case of emergency, y'know?"
I know other folks my age might've been bugged by any kind of surveillance, but after all my foster homes, it was nice to know somebody gave a shit. Either they didn't let me go anywhere, or they just let me run off, not even worried if I didn't come back for dinner. Or curfew.
Yeah, a real fucking travesty. Buck up.
"A friend's house," I answered. Prof looked surprised but nodded.
"Wow, that was quick. But that's good. You see, Jean? People are willing to be your friend if you just give yourself a chance." Another smile, more butterflies. He feigned a stern tone as he continued, "Be home by nine, young lady."
I snorted. "Yes, sir."
He gulped, eyelids fluttering a bit. Without fail, he got hot and bothered every time I called him "sir," and his reaction was always the same. It was cute as shit, and I wish I was less shy with it so I could do it more, just to trigger him.
"Hey, we didn't get a chance to watch a movie last night, 'cause of... reasons." I blushed. "And I prolly can't do one tonight either 'cause I'm going out. Do you think we could...?" There was a honk from outside, and I glanced over toward the window before scowling. "Stupid whore is early," I muttered fiercely.
"Uh... Maybe don't call her that," he advised. "Even behind her back, 'cause you'll get used to it and slip up and say it to her face. Besides, isn't... she supposed to be your friend?" He looked perplexed, which was fair. And he was right, I had to cut back on the cussing. Well, at least until people learned that's just how I talked.
"Right, right." I shoveled a little more lunch in my mouth before giving up on the rest of it. "I'll probably be back for dinner, that okay?" I said with my mouth full.
"Sure. I can work on the quizzes I'm giving you guys after the holidays. Couldn't work on 'em with you around, y'know? Can't have you cheating." He smirked and waved me off. "And yeah, we can watch it tomorrow or something. Now go on, don't keep them waiting. I taught you how important first impressions are, remember?"
I nodded and began walking to the door, then stopped. It'd be nice if... Taking a deep breath, I turned and walked back over, leaned down and kissed him on the cheek before dashing out the door. Fucking God, that was so cringe.
I walked out to the street, spotting a white sports car waiting for me. I stood next to it, taking a moment to work up my nerve. Damn, this was so dumb. I was having second thoughts when the window rolled down and Little Miss Perfect leaned over to peer at me.
"Door's open," said Lexi, a smirk plastered on her stupid face. Smart-ass bitch.
I climbed in and folded my arms, staring out the windshield.
Yeah, great idea, act like you hate being around people. That's step one of making friends, after all.
We sat there in silence for a few seconds, and when I looked over at her, she was watching me with an amused expression. And not driving. "Go," I said.
"Seat belt, Jean," she replied. "Gotta make sure I bring you back to the professor in one piece." Ugh, this manipulative cunt. She knew she was getting on my nerves and she fucking loved it. I strapped in and she chuckled and finally pulled away. "Loosen up, girl. None of them bite, so you don't need to come out the gate swinging."
I taught you how important first impressions are, remember?
I steadied my breathing, looking out my window. Humans could form impressions in as little as one hundred milliseconds. That's as fast as a quick blink. People could have an opinion of you in literally the blink of an eye; the eggheads had timed it. I had to make sure these guys didn't clock me as a rude bitch on arrival.
Just do it for prof.
Prof would probably tell me to do it for myself, but doing shit for myself didn't get the results I wanted.
Just do it for prof. I can do this.
Thankfully, Lexi left me alone for the rest of the ride. I think I would've flipped out if she had run her mouth the whole time. We pulled up to a swanky house in the suburbs, and I almost expected white picket fences and a swing hanging from the tree. She was being unusually quiet now. I was ready for her to start briefing me or some shit, but nope, nothing. She was just checking me every now and then as she walked us up to the door, then into her living room. And the goddamn tribunal was waiting for us.
A group of four teenagers were sitting around Lexi's living room and chatting, and they quieted down when I walked in. And remember that thing about first impressions? Well, in one hundred milliseconds, I already hated them. They just looked like a bunch of cool kids, and I fucking
hated