Wanted You More

Bethany is top in her class, head-strong, and basically you're definition of a perfect girl but she has no intention of trying to be like every other girl and try to get Harry, the popular, good looking, soccer star, to like her...in fact, she doesn't really like him. But when Bethany is assigned to help Harry get his grades up and he realizes that Bethany is different than everyone else, will Bethany cave into giving Harry a chance or will she continue to stick to her idea that he is a spoiled, stuck up ass?

Includes sex, drugs, alcohol, self harm references/actions, and cursing.

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1. Late

 

Wanted You More

 

Bethany:

I heard the click of my high heels echo in the empty halls as I ran to class. I had over slept and was hoping to god a couple people were absent from school. I was clutching my books to my chest as I reached the door. I turned the knob slowly and pushed the door open. The classroom went silent and everyone turned to look at me. My cheeks burned bright red from the stares.

“Ms. Wacker, do you have a pass?” I nodded wordlessly and handed Mrs. Hall my pass. She nodded and took it from my hands. I turned to face the class and tried to suppress a groan as I noticed the only seat open was the one person I was trying to avoid. I made my way to the back of the room and sat down and got my notebook open.  

I felt those green eyes on me and no matter how hard I fought it, I couldn’t help but turn to look at him and all his glory. I glanced out from under my hair and saw him eyeing me. A small smirk came across his lips, showing a small dimple. I quickly turned away, knowing he saw me looking at him.

Damn it. I thought.  

“Pssst…” I heard him hiss into my ear. I tried to ignore it but he did it again.

“What?” I finally hissed back.

“Are you new in this class?”

“No. We’ve been in the same class since kindergarten; leave me alone.” I hissed and turned back to the board.

“Feisty…I like it.” I felt his eyes on me again and I knew he was smirking that damn smirk of his.

For the rest of the period, I was able to resist slapping him in the face. It was hard, don’t get me wrong…but he really knew how to get on my nerves even though he had no idea who I was. I liked it like that. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was.   

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