CHAPTER ONE

~ Azalea

"Have you ever wondered what it's like getting kissed by Oliver McCorvey? I have... An insane amount of times. Even in my sleeps."Azalea, leaning against the half-open door of her cutesy locker, squirms as she stares at the classic lovebirds who were not just kissing affectionately out in the open and in a way that was causing her to burn, but were also now necking a short way down the hall.

Seriously people, go get yourselves a room!

Azalea starts to feel a seed of resentment grow inside her. The view is no longer as exacting the instant she spots Oliver making a run for Amber's incredibly short skirt with his generous hands. Her face instantly drops as she clenches her fists. "What is it that he sees in that Amber girl anyway? I mean, apart from the fact she's got killer legs and the height of a rich, supermodel. Rich, because her father is in fact a rich business mogul... So what that she has such a spotless face.

"She must be using a ton deal of products to keep her looking young as hell. Must be pretty expensive too. And her butt? It's just so rounded and ... and... Isn't knowledge supposed to be a criterion for dating too? I mean, Amber is nowhere near being as smart as him. I am, if not more."

Somewhere near the corner of her eye, a lone tear threatens to slip out of there, Azalea chews tight onto her bottom lip to keep back the wells from spilling.

Suddenly, a person's muffled laughter is channeled into her ears. Azalea feels her stomach dip as she turns to grab a good view of them. Of course, it's her! Who else would it be accompanying her in this illicit act of spying out on two neck-deep smooching lovers?

Azalea does not have one of her friendly gestures when she glares into the eyes of her obvious mocker. "How is it that my actual best friend is 'avin' a laugh at me during one of the most vulnerable moments in my life? Aren't my feelings even as little a priority to you?" Azalea does a lot to keep her alto as low sounding as possible because god forbid, Amber and Oliver were to find out that she and her best friend have been stalking them for the past five minutes ever since the bell rang out for Trigonometry class.

It was Trig class for heaven's sake, dammit! Azalea, you need to get outta there right now.

The giggling stops. Abrupt. "Look here, I wasn't at all laughing at the vulnerability of your impassioned state, okay? I was only just — well, you know, I mean, I can't relate to what you feel for a complete douchebag like him over there —" Nina tips her nose above her friend's shoulders — "I'm just saying Amber Jared is just about right for him. She's the much-acclaimed High School Queen Bee here at Sanford High and she certainly loves to do girls like us dirty, — her and her crazy crew of three. You know how mean she can be to us girls simply because she knows how way above her league we are. She's dumb and we're not. She hates that.

"And then Oliver is no saint himself. He is literally the most pompous driven boy I've ever met in my short sixteen-year period of existence. Even you can attest to this, Leah. That boy is such a brat... and he is also British…"

"For the record, that just sounded racist."

"What? It does?"

Azalea offers her a faint nod.

"Oh, well, he is certainly among the gorgeous ones and I'm clearly not RACIST at all. I mean I love and value people of all races," Nina points out, tugging at the pigtail resting on her left shoulder blade.

"Uh-huh. Anyway, I am not one to judge you based off of your impressionation of the British tribe." Azalea fakes a grin and dives into her locker under the pretext of looking over some books.

"Well, Leah, ya just did." Nina frowns up her face as she locks her arms into a fold. "Your gesture and that savage smile just dictated one word off your sleeves — condemnatory. You, Azalea Buchanan, do not know me at all."

Fishing out a Jack Reacher Thriller Novel from among the pile of textbooks, Azalea shuts off her Locker door. She would likely not get to read it until during lunch break today. She glances sideways at a seething Nina and decides to lower her stance. "Fine," she lets out. "Sorry for what my actions and inactions may or may not have conferred to you just now."

"Hm. Apology satisfactorily unaccepted."

"What?"

"What? That clearly wasn't an apology, to begin with."

"What do you mean?"

"First of all, we're soooo late for Trigonometry class. Secondly, your inability to suppress your fanciful hormones as opposed to your educational-themed ones is the reason we're ten minutes behind schedule. In all my years of coming to school, right up from elementary, I have never been 0.0005 seconds late for a class. How is this — recent lateness thingy, supposed to make me feel? And to think I wasn't fast enough to avoid getting dragged into such —"

"Barbaric behavior? Moral stupidity?"

"I don't know. Call it whatever you may. But you can't just say 'sorry' for one thing, Azalea. I'm hurt in more ways than one. If you wish to try out an actual apology, you've got to do better."

"Wow!" Azalea squints for a much better phrase to chip into the moment. "You and me are late for Trig class. Us both, okay? So, if you have a bunch of time to sit out and wait for a proper apology from me, I'm here to assure you that I clearly do not have that much time on my hands and neither do you.

"I don't know about you but I'd rather we be ten minutes late to Mr. Warner's than fifteen. Or what do you say?"

"Ugh, I hate it when you beat me at my own game. Yeah, you're right. We should get going."

Azalea begins her stride toward the class. Nina follows her.