Bitch!
Snob!
Brat!
How could one simple seventeen year old get under his skin so easily? Just a simple narrow of her icy blue eyes or a scowl on her pretty little face could send his blood boiling. There were moments where he wanted to slap that smirk right off her face and watch her cry. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until all the nastiness melted away. He knew deep down she could be a good girl, yet he loved it when she would be bad.
He would watch, infuriated, when she would push the other girls away from her and call them whores. His fists would clench when she would whine until she got her way. His face would flush red as he watched her flounce triumphantly when she got what she wanted, her skirts bouncing up and down, revealing just a hint more of her creamy, bare skin. He wanted to grab her, make her squeal in fright as he shoved her against the wall. The scene played out in his head many, many times, but he could never bring himself to do that. There was a time where Corny gladly played the bad guy night after night, but he couldn't do that anymore. Not after what had happened with Brenda.
Corny drummed his fingers against the stand as Amber took the stage to perform her solo dance. There was a huge, fake smile plastered on her face as she shimmied around.
"Ohhh!" she squealed in delight as she lifted the bottom of her dress a little higher, showing off her legs as she danced.
Corny rolled his eyes, but quickly gained his composure back. He felt a slight stir in his pants, longing to lift the bottom of her dress high above her head while exploring her body. How could someone who made him so angry, turn him on so much?