A posh sixth-form student makes a deal with a scary upperclassman to improve her social standing.
Tropes – Secret Romance, Bully Romance
“Go back to primary school, you lint-crusted chav.”
The school yard became as silent as a tomb waiting for a body to drop.
“What…did you just call me?”
Tilda smirked. She had him right where she wanted him. Her two best mates, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, tittered at her side. The only fools brave enough to make a sound right now, confident that their fearless leader would protect them.
“You heard me. Unless your ears are broke too.” That got a round of oooos from their captive audience.
Oliver stepped up to her Burberry-toting arse. He towered at least 30 centimeters over her, and outweighed her by a good 20-30 kilos in muscle alone. She had no business going up against him.
He lowered his head so their noses were almost touching and held Tilda’s dark green eyes. The 20 or so nosy wankers gathered around them all held their breaths. “Watch it,” he whispered, barely moving his lips.
She glared at him and put a hand on his sternum. He took a step back of his own accord. His gaze still locked with hers.
“Why don’t you go back to primary school and learn some manners, Ollie?” She took her hand off his chest and wiped it on her jumper before pointing at him, “You bumped into me. The least you could do is learn to say sorry.”
He narrowed his eyes and observed her for a minute. His dark expression matched his dark clothing and gothic chains. Her eyes shifted to the fresh skull tattoo on his neck as he clenched his jaw. She met his stare again then raised a finely plucked brow. A silent battle of wills passed between them before Oliver reluctantly gave in.
“I’ll get right on that, Tildie.” He walked away.
The silence broke when he was halfway across the yard. A whole bunch of ‘Oh my god!’s and ‘I can’t believe she’s still alive’s followed him out. Tilda’s friends patted her on the back and reaffirmed their devotion to her before they parted ways to head home.
15 minutes later, she rounded a corner 3 blocks away from Ashbourne College and snuck behind a Nando’s skip. Oliver crushed his fag under a boot and held out his hand. She rolled her eyes and pulled a stack of quid from her bag.
He pocketed it without counting and gave her a surly look. “You better tone it down next time. No one’s gonna believe I let you keep talking to me like that.” His eyes slowly roamed up and down her figure, lingering on her trim waist and ample bosom. He smirked, “Unless we’re shagging.”
She gasped. He walked away before she could recover. A faint “In your dreams!” followed him around the corner.