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Chapter 2

How To Be A Heartbreaker

Piper

"That Jason boy was so cute," tittered Lacy loudly as she sprayed herself with perfume, dousing the entire infrastructure of the dorm room with Chanel No.9, a perfume famous for it's distinct medicinal scent. I tried not to gag as she spritz some on her neck, her back, her face. "Got a new target on your dartboard, Pipes?"

"Maybe," I said mysteriously and the rest of my friends, the Aphrodite crew, exchanged smirks while I tousled my hair into waves. "I mean, he's cute and all, but he's such a good, little boy…"

"As if that will stop you," Kayla snorted, one of the girls who were sitting on the floor of my dorm while filing her nails.

A feral smile crossed my lips and I swiped the red tube over the bottom lip, rubbing it together once I was done. I flashed her Kayla a knowing beam, "True."

Looking at my reflection, I tucked in my dark choppy hair behind my ears and re-applied the liner with expertise, careful with the extra flick at the end of my eyes. Behind my back, the girls of my social ladder were gossiping, chatting, giggling, flipping their hair, rolling their eyes; basically enhancing any part of their social reputation. They're known as the Aphrodite Girls and they were all pretty and beautiful, infallibly rich, infamous for wreaking havoc amongst the department of romance. Everyone looked at me like the Leader and it wasn't something I had solely dictated and claimed, they just gave me an once-over and decided yeah okay, she's the top bitch now. And I've always just rolled with it.

The Aphrodite Girls weren't your typical Mean Girls Plastics-cloned clique. You forgot that the Wilderness School was an alma mater for troubled kids. These were red-lipped high-heeled stilettos women with an edge, they don't care who they have to tread on to claw their way to the top- something I prided myself in and was very good at.

Don't get me wrong, I love Lacy and I love my girls but none of them, not one, have an ounce of loyalty. They would not hesitate me to gouge my eyes out with a heel if it meant taking my spot in this school, and those circumstances led to several rules I've made abundantly clear with a vitalizing lucidity.

One step and die, bitch.

They got the message after that and never one had stepped out of line. Well except, Drew but she was old news and she should've known better. Suddenly, my cell phone rang, vibrating on the surface of my drawer. Tristan Mclean, the display read and my stomach clenched. Great. The usual check-up was here.

"Leave," I barked at the girls behind me, gritting my teeth, "Now."

They nodded, obedient and docile, scampering out the door. Slamming the door behind me, everybody, even Lacy who knew better to be in the same room with me when I was on the phone with my father.

Ignoring the temptation to ignore the call, I slid over the lock button and pressed it over my ear.

"Yes?" I snapped.

"Piper," my dad's calming tone soothed over the intercom. "How's your first day?"

"It was fine," I said promptly, placing my hands on my hips. Irritation evident in my tone, everything else was indecipherable. "You don't have to check up on me every five minutes."

"Piper, I have to. You've been spiraling out of control with the thefts-"

"Whatever," I interrupted him rudely, "I don't want to hear it."

I hung up, setting the phone down onto the table, breathing hard. I scraped my fingers through my uncombed hair, then sat on the edge of my bed. Maybe why I had manage to maintain my status as the top was because of my street smarts, I've always been on my own- and being on your own tend to force you to wake up in the real world and forge your own path.

But you've heard the name Tristan Mclean, so yeah. That's my dad. Cue screaming fan girls and requests for signed photos. Yeah, first of all: fuck off. Second: he's my dad. Third: ew.

He had never cared before, not once. I mean, he used to, before he gotten a break in Hollywood and sky-rocketed to stardom. He used to sing me to sleep, read me stories, spent time with me but ever since that particular callback, he was barely available, often occupied with an interview or a shoot.

Without the time to deal with me, he shipped me off to those private schools while he prance around Hollywood with his celebrity status and a new blonde bimbo who was young enough to be my sister around his arm. He was never apparent at any holidays, no Christmas. Hell, he bailed on my twelfth birthday because he had an hour slot with Good Morning, America.

I was lonely for a long time...no friends, no dad, no mom, no family. I replaced them with much better things, like sex, drugs, boys. Sex was good, don't get me wrong, sex was always good, but they always led to relationships, which leads to complications and messy heartbreaks. It was better- from experience- to avoid it, at whatever costs.

Things escalated when I turned 14, hanging around with the 'bad' crowd, boozing, cutting my hair off, getting an illegal tattoo and my first piercing. I had a boyfriend, Dylan, he was good...to me, I guess. We were inseparable and he opened my eyes to a new world. I lost my virginity towards him. And I didn't regret it. We were dating for four months, but then he cheated on me with some other chick from college. I sure showed them not to piss me off again, with a flammable gas of hair spray and a lighter.

Back to my dad, of course. So with all that naughty misdeeds on my track records, my dad was desperate to 'straighten me out'...whatever that meant. He couldn't handle me when it reached the proximity of me stealing cars, drunk driving and arrested….on occasions.

With no other options left, he sent me here. Since he clearly cared so much about me, I decided to return the favour. I just don't care anymore. About anything or anyone. Just another misbehaved teenager with daddy issues and too much access to a fake ID, my reflection snarked. I mean, it's not like I am totally unaware of what everybody says. Judgemental phrases you would toss around your friends, bitchy comments about a girl who flirted with your crush- yeah, I know you would do that. Everybody needs something to critisize- don't deny it. It's human nature to bitch. And I'm entirely aware of people labeling me behind my back after I gave them their weed: whore, slut, trainwreck - because they can't find anything else better to talk about.

Growing claustrophobic at the silence, I needed a walk, something to clear my thoughts. I exited my dorm, my boots dragging along the familiar corridors of Wilderness School. It was still Orientation- the very first weekend when everybody settled in to their dorms, unpacked their things, mingled with new friends and the such. I ignored everybody until I saw Jason, the new boy, looking quite lost at the sandy courtyard.

I had to agree with Lacy. Even from this distance, the new kid was extremely cute. He had the whole 'awkward turtle' tied down to a T. His ruffled blond hair was unruly, sticking out from various places, his glasses were dorky- admittedly- but they made him look, if possible, cuter. His features were regal, like an European aristocrat and his eyes were cerulean, with swirls of icy sky blue, hypnotizing me when I was staring him down at the cafeteria. It took all of my willpower not to drag him from his chair into a broom closet and do questionably questionable things to him.

Smiling wickedly and licking my lips, I approached him.

"Hey sexy," I greeted amiably and he spun around, books nearly falling out of his hands when he saw me sauntering towards him.

"Um- uh, hey," he stumbled upon his words. Nervous, his gaze darted from my face to my tightly-hugged chest, with just enough cleavage showing, to my legs in shorts. And just to twist a bit more on his nerves, I laid a hand on his shoulder, a caustic gleam in my eyes and he was trying to not let those books topple over his arms again. God, boys were so easy.

"How's your first day?"

"Well- it's going swell. I mean," he corrected himself, "it's not over yet."

"I see," I released my gentle grip on his shoulder abruptly. Then suggestively, I added: "Anything I can do to make it better?"

"What?" he gawked and I laughed, putting a hand over my mouth at his priceless expression.

"Just joking, just joking," I winked, wagging my finger back and forth. "Or maybe not…"

"Well, I don't think I…" he trailed off.

"We should?" I finished for him in the barest trace of a whisper. "Why? Scared Big Sister will punish for being a bad bad boy?"

He gulped and I relished at the moment of having him under my thumb, seeing him anxious produced a kick of addiction I never sensed before. I don't know why, but good boys were always my favourite kind of candy. Bad boys were so predictable, they wanted you and then they don't- once they're done with you, the matter's settled. But good boys...seeing them being bad was like having the first whiff of a joint. It felt like an adrenaline rush. It gave me immense pleasure to watch them break into pieces and somehow, I knew I wanted to hurt Jason, more than any other boy. Maybe it was because he looked so innocent, with his angelic hair and angelic blue eyes, he was so...clean and having that level of perfection shatter was just art.

In fact, I never searched for reasons of why breaking hearts was such an activity for the Aphrodite Girls. I myself knew how painful it was to be heartbroken, but it never stopped me.

"Anyway," I went on, enjoying him sweating under my gaze, "I want you to follow me."

"W-where?"

I made a 'come-hither' sign with my index finger, taking the lead towards the exit. "Why don't you come find out?"

The Wilderness School was a campus of several, low-ceiling blocks spread throughout the least hottest part of the desert. Over on the right were where all the dorms were situated and on the left was the actual school facilities, classrooms and whatnot. In the middle was the plain, sandy courtyard where the students hung around but that wasn't where I wanted to go. The Courtyard busied itself with students engaging themselves with others, several of them occasionally greeted me as I walked past, but most of them (the guys and some girls) ogled shamelessly and whispered immodestly while I ushered the new kid over to my favourite place in the world.

The secluded bench was located behind the dorms, but you have to past the Courtyard in order to enter it. It was also the coolest part of the school, with the shades of extending roof overhead away from the sun.

"This is a beautiful place," I said, lounging onto the chair, sun in my face as I folded my legs. "Isn't it?"

"It's pretty relaxing," he conceded, awkwardly standing.

I patted the space besides me. "Come on," I cooed, "I don't bite. Unless you like it kinky."

He blushed tomato red and I resisted from snickering by biting onto my lip. God, could he be any cuter?

I slipped my hands into the pockets of my mini-skirt and got out a packet of cigarettes. Soon, smoke rings emitted from the ignited tip and the gap between my lips, lazily perched on the bench while the cigarette dwindled between my fingers. My head cleared instantly once the nicotine hit my bloodstream, relaxing my anger from my father's phone call and releasing the right sort of steam sex never gave me. Jason observed how I sucked the cigarette dry, inhaling as much smoke as I could before exhaling.

"Want one?" I raised my eyebrow, offering one from the box.

He shook his head as I've expected. "No, I- I don't smoke."

Of course, you don't, sweetie.

"But didn't smoking marijuana landed you here in the first place?"

"Ah-yeah, that was just a drunken mistake."

I chuckled, running a hand through my choppy strands and put my legs up onto his lap. "Um-" he seemed rather alarmed at the way my legs were idly reposing on his, but I cut him off with an innocently coy look:

"What?" I shifted my legs, lifting one over the other, "Something wrong?"

He reddened. "Nothing."

Liar, liar, pants on fire- and it's not mine, for once.

I grinned predatorily. "So, Jason?" I utilized the tantalizing effect of the question, fluttering my eyes flirtatiously, "You're such a good boy. Daddy's favourite, never kicked out of school, good grades, not one fuck-up? Not even an affair? And then, it was one joint and you ended up here. Tsk, tsk, what you got to say for yourself?"

"How- how did you find that all out?" he gaped at me like I was an alien species, I laughed and pinched his cheeks as if he was a five-year old child failing to understand adult situations.

"I have my sources."

He positively gulped. Man, I am going to eat him alive. I reduced my cigarette into a measly stub and ground it deep into the sand with one of my boots. I lit another again, resuming to drinking in the toxic air greedily, and he coughed slightly, choking on the noxious smoke.

I got concerned, "Are you okay?" I asked as he clutched his chest, wheezing, "Do I put it out?"

"No-" he coughed a little more, "It's okay. You can continue...eradicating your lungs."

"Oh no, you're one of those people."

"One of those?"

"People, who act like benevolent authoritarian figures. 'Those things kill you, y'know'- the ever-famous line; it fucking annoys me. Like, of course I know they kill me. Why else would I be smoking them?" I ranted, vocally impassioned about the subject, my hands flapping wildly to keep the desert flies out of my heavily glossed lips. "We humans love to self-destruct. It's one of my favorite things to do. Self-destructing is what makes humans feel alive."

Silence dropped between the both of us and he regarded me in shock, unable to believe a smart, yet brutally honest remark had fallen out of my mouth. What? It's the truth. We're all already dying. Dying from the first day since we're born, on that same day, we're inevitably marked for our deaths. These special nicotine sticks just add the red cross to the grave.

"That's...very discerning of you to say so."

I shrugged, "It's true," I gestured to the cigarette, regarding it with a certain admiration. It was a beauty of a killing machine; so insignificant, small and trivial yet it's death toll was racked to an all-time high. "Isn't it? Cigarettes are just one metaphor after another. What kills you make you feel alive? That's one." Clamping my teeth around my cigarette, I looked up at him and wiggled the box full of nicotine wrapped in pretty white sticks. "You sure you don't want any?"

He hesitated and I could imagine the mental debate going on in his head, trying to decide on morals or curiosity. Come on, I coaxed inside my head, you know you wanna. "You know what? Sure, I'll take one."

Score.

"That's my boy." I clicked the lighter and flames consumed the nib. The smoke danced and weaved an intricate rom the end, as he held it to his face and tried to inhale the white clouds, only resulting in coughing and spluttering. He winced and grimaced, gasping for breath, the cigarette dangling from the edge of his fingers and threatening to fall onto the desert floor.

"Urgh."

"Yeah," I patted his arm. "That was my first time too. But after a while, it gets better."

He bit his lip and attempted smoking a few more rounds, eventually getting used to the provocative act. It was for sure one of the most disconcerting sight I've ever set my eyes on; an All-American blond teenager with too-big dorky glasses smoking next to me, who looked as if I've just marched out of the set of the Runaways.

"Hey," he spoke out of the sudden, bringing us out of the silence. The hot arid air blended while with the smoky warmth our cigarettes provided us, the scratchy heat gathering beads of sweat upon my forehead. Though this was my treasured beloved area to be quiet and think, or smoke and drink in peace, the other Aphrodite girls despised this place because it ruined their hair and makeup. "What happened if you get caught? I mean, smoking is against the school rules…and if my dad finds out, he will kill me. Literally kill me."

"Look," I told him, honest-to-God serious, no bullshit- I swear, "the school is meant to straighten you out, while eating the money of our parents. Theoretically, it's supposed to be improving your behaviour, so if the school tells your parents of your misdeeds, well obviously they're not doing a very good job. In reality, the most trouble you'll get in is detention. Or better yet, not get caught at all. That suggestion is always open to everyone. It's either you're professional about the way you break the rules," I opened my arms wide to show off my secluded bench, blowing a thin stream of smoke into the desert air. As if it could get any hotter. "or you don't do it all. But I supposed considering that we're stuck here in this hellhole, we're not professionals on breaking the rules- and it seems it's the only thing this school is good at."

"Okay," he said, although he continued: "What a motto, though. The Wilderness School: Where We Teach You How Not To Break Rules But You Still Do."

"Fruitless endeavours to liberate us," I said darkly, agreeing with him. Up close, I studied the outline of his face. From his chiseled jaw, aristocratic nose, high cheekbones, the scarce stubble scattered across his sharp chin, he looked photo-shopped, if it wasn't for the fresh splash of freckles dotted across his nose. "Freckles," I mumbled.

"Yeah," he grumbled, "A thing with being so damn pale."

"Not for long," I hummed, displaying my tan skin. "You're in Arizona now, Grace. You'll burn just like me."

"I hate my pale skin," he sighed, looking down on his face, "I blush like a tomato, even when I'm not blushing and I bruise like a peach. Also, the freckles..."

"Don't. They're cute," I said, unintentionally slipping. His face split into a shy smile. God, why are you so fucking adorable? You're like a puppy! I wanted to yell at him, finding it difficult not to get worked-up by the intense blue eyes, electrifying and bright, electing and scrutinizing me. Jason was a good boy, but he felt...different. A good boy, but unlike any other good boys, he was tired of being a good boy. He felt...like he was trying to see through me- no one ever did that. I never let them.

I liked the whole geeky thing. It made me want to unravel him and teased him, untied those tight knots and undo them until he's reduce to nothing.

A wan, sly expression played on my features, highlighting the intimacy of the situation, "How about a game?" I inched closer towards him. "Three questions?"

"Um...okay?"

"Where from?"

"San Francisco."

"Favourite food?"

"Um, pizza."

"Dammit!"

"What?" he was alarmed. "What did I do wrong?"

"Pizza," I said vehemently, "How prosaic. You just ruined it, Jason Grace," I dramatically clutched my chest, pantomiming fainting onto the bench, "You just ruined everything."

"Everything?"

"Well, you have one question left, okay? Answer it correctly and consider us friends."

I crawled further in to him, closing the distance between our bodies and I stopped when there was nothing short of a few centimetres from our faces, waiting to be pushed into a perfect position of a kiss. "Have you ever kissed anyone?"

"...no."

I pressed my lips against his to provide my answer. His eyes widened but I licked my tongue over his bottom lip, ensuring it was okay. He closed his eyes, enveloping his power onto the kiss, his large comforting hands shot to my waist, pulling me closer into him and straddled me onto his lap, my legs swinging around tongue explored mine and I buried my hands into the fluffy curls of his blond head, wanting security as he cupped my face and stroke my cheeks, his nimble fingers drawing circles on my skin, tracing softly. I could've melted into that kiss...he was so different from anything I ever had, so gentle, so patient, so courteous, as if frightened he would break me- he wasn't like normal boys who greedily rushed the kiss to get the sex proceeding faster, he was one who waited for the girl to feel comfortable and the mannerism, the thought he spared, stole my breath away.

"What...what was that?" he gasped, breaking apart when he realized what happened and seized control of the situation, ending something that could've led elsewhere.

"That was...wow," my head spinning from the rush and I fiddled with the top button of his shirt, "You sure it's your first?"

"Um, yeah," I bet he was blushing. He was blushing, wasn't he? Pinks highlighted those pale cheeks.

That cute bastard.

I rested my head onto his shoulder, hearing his heart pulsed erratically underneath his body, thumping to the rhythm to my feet tapping the floor. He was exhaling slowly, his cigarette forgotten on the floor, his chest rising and dropping as he looked down at me.

"So...are we…"

I shrugged, "I don't know." I said cryptically and climbed off his lap, directing him a wink. He stared up at me, confused. That was the thing with boys- you always leave them hanging for more. "Maybe. See you, Sparky."Sparky? Seriously? How unoriginal. Whatever. It fits.

And with that, I left.