Chapter 9: CHAPTER 9

The next morning regret hit me like a ton of bricks.

What on earth had I been thinking, making that bet with Amy? I must've been momentarily infected by her madness. Now that the fog had lifted my pride refused to take the words back.

Four feet away from the mirror, I carefully examined my outfit. It wasn't the one I originally picked for myself last night given the turn of events. Instead of my typical ponytail, my hair laid unbound reaching mid-waist. And though for my face I refused full coverage makeup, I'd assented to mascara, tinted moisturizer, and colored lip balm.

I've never seen myself so put together. For the first time in forever I felt..pretty. The process I expected to feel like a chore ended up being surprisingly soothing.

"Oh my goodness, honey, you look beautiful!" Mom cooed, admiring as I came down the stairs.

And she had great reason to. I ended up wearing the exact outfit she picked out for me yesterday.

"Clara's glowing," Amy added, her eyes flickered in surprise before settling into mischief. "Today they're holding cheerleading tryouts. You should go for it."

Her smug self-assurance was impossible to miss.

Meanwhile, Mom gave me begging puppy eyes.

"Maybe I will."

Amy's jaw dropped. Satisfaction spread through my chest as she struggled to find the words to say.

For so long I'd always said no to these things. Now, watching her flounder, I had an sense she probably never expected me to say yes, she only asked because

she assumed I'd refuse.

In that moment, tears fell from my mother's eyes as if I had just handed her the world. I pulled her into a hug, laughing softly at her dramatics. She'd always respected my decision to not cheer, but I hadn't realized how much it meant to her, especially with me being her only daughter.

"Don't cry yet, Mom. I might not even make the team," I teased, rubbing her back.

"You will make the team! It's in your blood!" She dried her tears with fierce determination.

Amy jiggled the car keys, her voice cutting through the moment. "We need to go soon."

I kissed my mom goodbye and follovwed Amy out.

Normally I stepped out the house indifferent, already knowing how the day would go. Today was different. The confidence I'd worked up this morning waned like the fading moon the further we got from home. By the time Amy pulled into the school lot, apprehension weaved in the pits of my stomach.

What would they say? What would they think…what would he think?

"How are you feeling?" Amy asked. She appraised my sudden fidgeting with a subtle note of arrogance.

"A little nervous...I'll be fine," I exhaled.

Outside the car I adjusted my skirt. Then the top so it covered my stomach. Then the sandals which needed tightening. I wasn't used to this. Baggy clothes never needed adjusting. A breeze skimmed my bare thighs.

Thankfully, I had short spandex underneath to avoid accidental peek-a-boos.

"I hope you're not thinking of backing out." And dare I say Amy looked the tiniest bit disappointed.

It was a silly bet in my opinion, but with clothes like these, catching Forrest's attention shouldn't be difficult. "No, it's on." I responded, stepping onto the platform with a confidence I didn't quite have.

The quiet gasps hit instantly.

Is that Clara?

She's looks like a completely different person!

Oh you think she did that for…

My beige tote became the perfect shield. I fumbled inside, sifting through mascara, homework anything to avoid their

assignments, and pens prying eyes filled with assumptions.

"CJ? Is that you?"

My gaze lifted. David. His gray eyes scanned me with fascinated interest. I blushed. Compliments from my mother was one thing. Coming from a boy, this felt different.

"Yes I'm..t-trying something new," I stammered.

Theodore peaked over his shoulder. "Clara?! Well don't you look hot today." Theodore grabbed my hand and spun me, whistling as he did so.

I shoved him, embarrassed, but he only laughed and circled me again like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Their reactions had me blushing furiously, though relief trickled that Cross wasn't around to witness it. The bell rang, and just as I started to breathe easier, he appeared.

Cross.

I licked my lips in anticipation. He exchanged a few words with David and Theodore, before fixing his gaze on me.

Silence.

"Hey," I managed, holding my breath.

"Hey, CJ." Forrest continued assessing me. From the pink tint on my lips, to the sliver of skin on my stomach, to the sandals displaying my pink toes.

Through it all his eyes remained unreadable. "Nice outfit," he finally said. Then he passed by me and continued down the hallway, not once looking back.

My heart plummeted.

A wave of cheerleaders passed, instantly snagging David and Theodore's attention. Just like that, business as usual. In an instant the magic of the makeover evaporated. Cross was the clock that struck midnight, and at his dismissal I was nothing more than background noise again.

A girlish giggled pulled me from my thoughts. Amy looked every bit satisfied.

She sighed at Cross's retreating back. "He wasn't

impressed."

"Whatever," I bit out.

But it wasn't whatever. I fixed my hair, my nails, my clothes-everything. All for him to give me two careless words.

Nice outfit.

"Whatever...yes, that's exactly what he thought," Amy replied smoothly. "This is Cross. If you really thought a little makeover was going to affect him..."

I should've known better.

As much of a flirt as Crosd was, the girls were the ones who made the first move on him. From there he decided whether they were worth his energy or not.

Why did I think it would be any different with me?

Makeover or not.

I blinked. "Well, I guess you won Amy."

At least that dumb bet was over. I turned to head to class but she blocked me.

"Not so fast. I'll give you a month," she said generously. Though the twinkle in her eye told me she really just enjoyed seeing me be humbled.

Deflated, I didn't have it in me to deign her with a response. Amy hugged me before sashaying off to her class. I trailed slower, my thoughts racing. As big of a change as this was for me, I had only managed to become...an average girl. Of course Cross wasn't impressed.

Not even a "cute".

I dragged myself into Technology with Mr. Griffin. The man was in his early sixties, and close to retiring with blurred vision that sadly missed his student's reckless behavior. You can imagine how easy it is to enter late, which most of the class took full advantage of.

And they would all be present today, too. For as Mr. Griffin took attendance, his reading glasses hanging precariously over the bridge of his nose, Cross sat

in front of him saying "here" for all the names called.

"Susan Wang?" He cracked, his black pen aligned

across the sheet.

"Here," Cross repeated. He didn't bother to disguise his voice to a girlish pitch, continuing to used his regular deep voice.

"That will be all. You may go to your projects." Mr. Griffin stood and went to a cabinet at the far end of the classroom.

While good students went eagerly to their projects, the others-including Cross.pawned them off on the kids who enjoyed tech enough to build things twice.

"CJ, check this out."

Cross fetched the grade book from Mr. Griffin's desk. With a pencil he erased some of the grades and replaced them with his own.

"What do you think you're doing? You can't do that!" I scolded. I ripped it out of his grip and pressed it against my chest.

"Why not?" Cross stepped closer, eyes glinting.

"Because it's not right."

"Oh." Forrest's fingers slowly skimmed up my arm, a trail of goosebumnps in his wake. His smirk widened like he knew exactly the effect he had on me.

"Why isn't it right?" His fingers hovered at the crook of my neck, drifting lower.

I stiffened. Heat radiated off him, the faint scent of pine wrapping around me like smoke. It clouded my senses enough to disorient me.

"W-what are you…"

The heat dissipated, along with the grade book clutched to my chest.

Cross chuckled as he bent over the desk again, casually rewriting grades as if the world bent to his whims. My stomach twisted, but not for the students soon to be blindsided by their amazing report cards.

No. It was the sharp realization that getting Cross

wrapped around my finger would be difficult.

Especially when he was very used to having girls

Wrapped around his.

Cross's POV

​I was leaning against the brick pillar near the east entrance, halfway through a conversation with David and Theo that I wasn't actually listening to. Theo was going on about some party on Friday, but his voice was just background noise. My eyes were locked on the flow of students, searching for a specific, baggy silhouette.

​Then, the air in the hallway changed.

​It wasn't a sudden noise. It was like a ripple, a collective intake of breath that started at the doors and rolled toward us like a wave.

​"Holy hell," Theo breathed, the tennis ball he’d been tossing dropping to the floor with a hollow thud. "Is that... is that Clara?"

​I didn't want to look. I wanted to keep my cool, to stay unbothered. But my head turned of its own volition, drawn by some magnetic force I couldn't fight.

​My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it made my lungs ache.

​Clara was walking toward us, but it wasn't the Clara I knew. The baggy clothes was gone, a thing of the past o guess. In its place was... everything. Her hair, usually trapped in that practical ponytail, was a dark, silken river that reached her waist, swaying with every step she took. She wasn't wearing a shroud anymore. She was wearing a skirt that showed the long, elegant line of her legs, thighs that looked soft and dangerous all at once.

​I felt a flash of white-hot possessiveness so intense it made my vision blur.

​Every guy around us was staring. I could see their eyes tracing the curve of her waist, the sliver of skin at her stomach, the way her sandals showed her toes, painted a soft, mocking pink. It was like someone had taken a masterpiece that had been hidden in a basement and hung it in the center of the gallery for everyone to touch.

​"CJ? Is that you?" David asked, his voice thick with a fascinated interest that made me want to shove him into a locker.

​"Yes I'm..t-trying something new," she stammered. Her voice was the same soft, unsure, beautiful and it ground into my nerves.

​Theo was already moving, grabbing her hand and spinning her like she was his to play with. He whistled, a long, appreciative sound that made my knuckles turn white. "Clara?! Well don't you look hot today."

​I watched her blush. That deep, rose-colored heat crawled up her neck and settled in her cheeks, and for a second, I couldn't breathe. I wanted to be the one who made her blush. I didn't want Theo’s hands on her. I didn't want David’s fascinated eyes on her, I knew it was harmless and we were all friends but I still wanted to take my jacket and wrap it around her until the only person who knew what she looked like under those hoodies was me.

​I forced my feet to move. I forced my face into a mask of ice.

​I stepped into their circle, my presence cutting through Theo’s laughter like a chill wind. I exchanged a few mindless words with the guys, I don't even know what I said and then I turned my gaze on her.

​Up close, she was devastating. Her eyelashes were darker, thicker, framing those glacier-blue eyes that were currently wide with anticipation. Her lips were tinted a soft pink, looking damp and plush.

​I looked at her stomach. I looked at her toes. I looked at every inch of skin she’d decided to share with the world, and I felt like I was dying.

​"Hey," she managed, holding her breath.

​I had two choices. I could tell her she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen and ruin every defense I had left, or I could stay the villain.

​"Hey, CJ."

​I kept my voice flat. Unreadable. I let my eyes trail over her one last time, making sure she saw the boredom in my expression. I needed to humble her. I needed to prove that a little mascara and a short skirt didn't change the power dynamic between us.

​"Nice outfit," I finally said.

​Two words. That was all I gave her.

​Then, I did the hardest thing I’ve ever done, I walked past her.

​I didn't look back. I couldn't. If I turned around and saw the hurt in her eyes, I’d break. I kept walking down the hallway, my heart plummeting into my stomach, the magic of the moment curdling into a bitter, heavy weight.

​By the time I got to Technology, I was a wreck.

​I sat in the back, my boots kicked up on the desk, watching Mr. Griffin fumble with his attendance sheet.

The man was practically blind, a walking relic of a teacher who shouldn't have been allowed near a grade book, let alone a classroom full of teenagers.

​The class filtered in, but I wasn't looking at them. I was waiting for the door to creak open one more time.

​When Clara finally walked in, the air in the room seemed to sharpen. She looked deflated, her shoulders slightly hunched, the confidence she’d had in the hallway gone. She moved to her project station, avoiding my eyes.

​I felt a pang of something that felt suspiciously like regret, but I pushed it down. I needed a distraction. I needed to be the chaos she couldn't ignore.

​"Susan Wang?" Mr. Griffin cracked, his pen hovering over the sheet.

​"Here," I said, my voice deep and lazy.

​I went through half the roster like that. "Here... here... here." I didn't even try to sound like a girl. I just wanted to see if anyone would stop me. Nobody did. The good students were already lost in their projects, and the rest were happy to let me handle the paperwork.

​Once Griffin retreated to his cabinet, I saw my opening. The grade book was sitting right there, open and vulnerable.

​I grabbed it.

​With a pencil, I started erasing the pathetic 'C's and 'D's next to my name, replacing them with perfect scores. It was a joke, a way to show that I could rewrite the rules whenever I wanted.

​"CJ, check this out."

​She was there in a second, her eyes wide with that familiar, righteous indignation. "What do you think you're doing? You can't do that!"

​She scolded me, her voice pitched low so Griffin wouldn't hear. Before I could respond, she ripped the book out of my hand and pressed it against her chest.

​The move backfired.

​By pressing the book to her chest, she’d drawn my eyes right back to where they shouldn't be. The thin fabric of her top, the curve of her frame, everything I’d spent the morning trying to ignore was now inches away from me.

​"Why not?" I stepped closer.

​"Because it's not right," she whispered.

​"Oh."

​I let my fingers reach out. I didn't think about it; I just did it. I let my fingertips slowly skim up her arm. Her skin was like silk, and as I moved higher, I felt the unmistakable ripple of goosebumps trailing in my wake.

​A victory. A small, physical victory.

​I let my smirk widen. I wanted her to know that I knew. I wanted her to feel the power I had over her, even if she was the one holding the grade book. My fingers hovered at the crook of her neck, drifting lower, dangerously close to the edge of her top.

​I could smell her, that sweet-scented soap she always used, mixed with something sweet and floral from the makeover. It wrapped around me like smoke, clouding my senses, making me forget that we were in a classroom with a half-blind teacher.

​"W-what are you…"

​Her voice trailed off, her eyes wide and clouded. She was disoriented. She was feeling it, the same heavy, dragging pull that was currently making my head spin.

​Then, in one fluid motion, I reached out and snatched the grade book back from her grip.

​The heat dissipated instantly. I stepped back, chuckling low in my throat as I bent over the desk again, casually rewriting the grades. My hands were steady, but my insides were a mess.

​I could feel her standing there, her stomach twisting, her gaze burning into the back of my head.

​The smile remained on my face as I continued my antics, I just loved how much I affected her,your interactions were the highlights of my days in here and I lived for it.