"Mr Whitlock?"

I ignored him, brushing the hair back off the neck of the blonde next to me, who was currently fluttering her eyelashes in a poor attempt to be seductive.

"Mr Whitlock?"

My lips brushed against her ears, as I continued to whisper sweet-nothings to her, my arm thrown casually over the back of her chair drawing circles on the skin of her arm.

She twittered and laughed leaning forwards very slightly, a not-so-subtle attempt to maximise her already ample cleavage.

Girls were so fucking predictable. Give 'em a wink and tell them their beautiful, and they'll be on your bed naked before you can ask their name.

"Mr Whitlock!"

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, turning my sceptical gaze to the exasperated looking teacher at the front of the class.

"Yes sir?" I smirked at him.

"Are you listening to me?"

"No sir."

"And why not?"

"Because sir, I already know everything there is to know about the consolidation of Hitler's power, and I don't feel the need to listen to some shit teacher ramble on as they try to teach me something I could already pass every fucking exam in."

He spluttered, his face flushing as a round of faint laughter broke through the otherwise silent classroom, "Well then Mr Whitlock, answer me this; what year was the Reichstag Fire?"

"27th of February, 1933."

His face darkened even further and he leant forwards, resting his hands on the deserted desks in front of him, "What was the name of the person accused?"

"Van Der Lubbe."

"And why was he held responsible?"

"He was a Dutch Communist, and a well know pyromaniac who was found stumbling from the wreckage, sir."

I interjected the last word with as much arrogance as I possibly could, before turning back to the blonde bimbo at my side, whose name I had already forgotten. Lucy? Lorna?

Something beginning with L.

"Where were we?" I said, lowering my voice and grinning at her.

She giggled; a high, fake laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, "You were telling me how this shirt made my eyes remind you of sunny days back home in Texas."

Ah, of course.

My personal favourite – telling the girls that they remind me of home. I of course forget to mention that I hate Texas with a passion and wouldn't set foot back there again is someone paid me a fucking fortune.

"And I was about to tell you," she continued, dropping her voice to near theatrical levels in an attempt to sound husky and lustful, "That I can make you feel just as much at home as you want to..."

Here she paused for dramatic effect, biting gently on my earlobe, "In my bed."

I suppressed another eye roll and instead opted for the lazy one-sided grin that the girls seemed to love, and held back a faint jolt of disgust as her taloned fingernails drifted up and down the inside of my thigh.

Cut your damn nails woman – I feel like I'm being groped by a fucking vulture!

"Miss Mallory! Stop talking!"

Lauren! Good to put a name to the face of the girl who is currently gouging trenches in my thighs with her fingers.

"But sir!" Lauren whined, and I flinched as her voice reached impossible decibels, "I don't care about History!"

Rookie mistake there, Miss Mallory.

"Miss Mallory, I do not give a damn whether or not you care about my lesson, it is my job to teach you! I'm afraid I may have to have you swap seats with someone, if I ever plan on getting some peace around here!"

I phased out Lauren's torrent of pissed off moans and stared out of the window, appreciating the view of the girls playing volleyball outside.

Whoever this History teacher was, he insisted we sat boy-girl-boy-girl, so whoever Lauren got swapped with would be fine with me – I had every girl in this class wrapped around every single one of my fingers.

"Miss Brandon, please swap seats with Miss Mallory."

Except that one.

Who the fuck?

I jerked my eyes back to the classroom, watching as a small girl at the front of the class scraped her chair back and gathered up her books before flouncing to the back, a severely pissed off look gracing her face.

I didn't miss the scowl she sent in Lauren's direction either, and suppressed a chuckle.

She threw her 80 pound frame into the seat next to me scattering her belongings on the table, and proceeded to scratch angry doodles into the wooden desk top with her pen.

Play nice Jasper.

I held my hand out to her giving her the most attractive grin I could muster, "Jasper Whi –"

"I know who you are," she cut me off shortly turning her glaring eyes onto me, her pink lips pressed together in anger, "Because I've been at this school for 6 years and, unlike you, I actually pay attention!"

Oh, so the little kitten knows how to bite huh?

"I pay attention!" I protested indignantly, folding my arms haughtily over my chest.

She raise an eyebrow, "reeeeaaally?" she dragged out scathingly, "what's my name?"

Fuck.

Busted.

So I did what any heterosexual male would do when faced with such a situation. I whipped out the southern accent, and I flirted.

Dropping my voice I leaned closer to her, not missing how she stiffened as my breath drifted across her neck, and how her eyes fluttered closed as I said, "Why does it matter what your name is, you're the one who's gonna be screamin' my name later darlin'."

I heard three seconds tick by from the clock on the wall before she pulled back from me as far as her chair would go, disgust marring her pretty features and spat, "My name's Alice Brandon, and I wouldn't go anywhere near you even if someone was holding a gun to my head."

And with that she swept all her books into her bag with one violent motion of her arm, stood so violently that her chair toppled over with a clatter, and marched from the room.

What. The. Fuck.

"Hey Felix?" I leaned across the lunch table, nudging him with my arm, "You ever heard of Alice Brandon?"

"Nah mate."

At least he stopped sucking Jessica's face for 10 seconds, even if it was to give you a half-assed answer. How considerate.

"Alice Brandon? I know her!" Jane's high pitched tones reached me from three seats over, where she sat in-between Marcus and her brother Alec.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, she's a right wierdo! Dresses like a freak right, and I've never seen her with one set group of people. Every day she's with someone new. Look, she's there," she pointed in the direction of the food counter, "With that garage-chick Rosalie Hale."

I followed the direction of Jane's hand and saw that Alice Brandon was indeed lining up with the tall blonde Rosalie Hale, who spent most of her days down in the workshop garage, pulling cars apart.

I scrutinised her for a moment, taking the opportunity to while she looked mildly happy, and her face wasn't screwed up and yelling at me.

Most of her facial features were deemed practically invisible next to her wide, shockingly violet eyes, though her nose was delicately pointed and her lips full and puffy. Her hair stood out in every direction it possibly could from her head, as though she had run her fingers through it, over and over again.

She was increasable short – barely reaching Rosalie's shoulder, yet her exuberant arm gesticulations, and her wide smile definitely made up for her lack of height.

I wondered why the hell I'd never noticed her before.

"What's her deal?" I said to no one in particular, knowing they would answer.

"Plays guitar in the school band, sings in the choir. Book nerd, art student, chess club. I think she does every fucking cross-curricular activity there is."

"Why the sudden interest in the shorty mate? The girl immune to your charms or somthin'?"

"No, bitch got swapped with me in History! Now Jazz has to sit next to her!" I flinched as Lauren's nasal tones hit my eardrums, and twirled meaningless patterns on the desk with my fingers, as she swung herself onto my lap.

"Don't call me Jazz, Lauren." I muttered darkly to her.

My mother calls me Jazz.

She shrugged against my shoulder and leaned around to steal a handful of chips from my plate, talking loudly as she ate them about how lucky she was to be able to eat chips with no worry of putting on weight.

Only 'cause you have your plastic surgeon on speed dial, idiot.

I glanced up as Lauren droned on and the rest of the table gossiped loudly, my eyes meeting Alice's for just a second as she left the hall the scowl back on her face, before she looked away.