Finding Sloane Winters Crazy

Sloane Erin Mallory Winters
Just had her 'v-card' swiped by a ridiculously contagious boy

And just like that; I concluded that I was in love.

It's nearing the end of the week-- you can feel it in the air, the Glastonbury and Xavier kids all felt the gust of relief and exhaustion of the weekend twisting into their brains as the seventh period bell rings. Stand up, shovel up all their books into their shaking arms, and a sleepy goodbye to the stern teacher at the front of the classroom and there it is;

BAM!

Just like jealousy, I can tell you now that it doesn't bubble at the pit of your stomach, nor do your eyes cloud with it-- but it's like something's hit you on your pimpled teenage face, figuratively, of course.

Because there's Teak. And at first, I'm excited to see him, there he is; in his lazy and relaxed glory, and wearing his summer school shirt today, despite that it's winter and about ten degrees. People stop to stare at his arms, but I'm staring at the person standing beside him.
Mandy Sommers, Resident Slut No #1.

I tell my feet to stop, scold at them for being so excited and running towards him-- I shouldn't be excited, I should be calm and cool. But I'm jealous, because I'm seeing Mandy twisting her lovely raven black hair on her long fingers, and her thick eyelashes are batting too quick-- but what pissed me off?

He just stood there, with a blank but bored face-- though I could see his eyebrows twitching every once in a while, that say he's either amused, frustrated or annoyed.

But I couldn't tell which.

My fists ball up, just like a tabby cat under your arm, when she runs those fingers down his tattooed arm, and I can't stop my feet now-- but I'm still in control of my face. I plaster on a 'pleasantly surprised' look, and a tiny smile as I approach them.

"Hey," I say, kind of breathlessly, because jealousy likes your breath, just like kisses.
Teak looks away from her, and there's that lopsided grin that made me forget about Mandy beside him, and he wraps an arm around my waist and tugs me closer.

"Hey," he breaths into my ear, then places a soft kiss under my ear lobe.

"Sloane," Mandy smiles, it lights up her painstakingly pretty face-- the one I want to bash in right now-- but her hazel eyes are dim, in comparison to her pearly whites. "How's you? I haven't really talked to you since that Art Gallery night last year. That was a cool painting, by the way."

I grimace, "Fine, thanks."

There's a pause, as if she's waiting for me to ask her the same question, and I can feel his breath fanning onto my neck, warm and comforting.

"Are you two... together or something?"

"Yes we are," I said coldly, just like the wind whipping around and dancing in my hair, "Nice chatting Mandy, but we've got places to go."

So I'm steering him away, eyes fixed straight on his car, and then I'm in it and I'm grumpy.
"You don't like her." he states, one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging lazily out of the window.

"Obviously." I murmur, and ten minutes later there's his house, and it's empty. "Where's your mum, and Quinn?"

"Out." he shrugs, tugging me into his familiar room. And then there's his familiar lips, the familiar feeling of his hair under my hands, and familiar palms on my waist-- but then they're tugging my shirt, but curiously, as if asking permission. On the zipper of my skirt, and on my bare hips.

And I gave it, and I gave in.

And just like that; I concluded that if love ever existed, I had in my grasp and I wouldn't let it go.