Daniel tapped a finger against the chain he wore, the gem on his nose glinting. "I could throw you the best party," he said. "Consider it my gift."
Harrison shook his head. "No need. I would, if I had the choice." The others nodded, slightly puzzled at how eager Harrison was to make the plan happen.
"I don't even have a girlfriend," David said flatly. "None of us do. Where are we supposed to find one now?"
"I know," Harrison sighed. "But we need to find someone. I'm desperate to get that week off. I'm tired of early morning lectures and exams. I just want out."
"Sounds like marriage is next," Daniel joked, flipping back to Clinton's assignment, which was Clinton's demand from him after winning the race to the pub. He briefly thought of the girls he'd met lately, none worth remembering. Either too shy, too loud, or trying too hard. He needed connection, not noise.
"I hope not," Harrison muttered, hand on his waist. "I'm not ready for that kind of attachment."
"You won't have to try hard," David said, glancing up from his phone. "Girls fall over themselves for us. Everyone knows who we are."
And they did. Their last names alone carried enough weight to command attention.
"My parents want me to meet someone," Harrison admitted. "Roselle."
"Pretty name," Daniel said, glancing at David, who simply nodded.
"So?" Harrison pressed. "It's just one girl. One night."
David rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What if we pay models? Just for the photos. To show up and smile."
Samuel nodded. "Better than nothing."
Clinton hadn't spoken. Harrison turned to him. "Clinton?"
"I know who I'm bringing," he said coolly.
The others leaned in, interest piqued.
"Is there someone we should know about?" Samuel asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No," Clinton replied too quickly.
"Then who is she?" David pushed.
"Just a friend, alright? Drop it." Clinton's tone cut off further questions. David shrugged, Daniel returned to his notes, and Samuel watched Clinton, unconvinced.
"Daniel," Harrison turned to him, "are you going with a model?"
Still writing, Daniel replied, "I'll find someone before then."
"Lucky," David groaned, glancing at his phone. "Time for the merged class. Great."
He hated combined lectures. Too many eyes lingered on him, too many stares that barely blinked. He remembered a girl in a pink dress last week, pen frozen midair, eyes locked on him while the teacher spoke. She had turned away, flustered, when he asked if she was okay.
Then Daniel looked up suddenly. "Wait... I think I know who I want to go with." A flash of a girl came to mind, sad eyes, long lashes, a face that stayed with him. He didn't know her name. Yet.
•
The class had started when the boys entered. Heads turned, and the teacher paused, eyes tracking their slow, confident walk down the aisle.
Samuel took a seat but shifted uncomfortably. After a moment, he stood, drawing everyone's attention, and moved to the back of the hall. A boy next to him waved. Samuel didn't return the greeting.
Tasha, seated mid-row, saw it all. The whispers started as soon as the boys arrived. Danielle, who'd forced her way into the front row, caught her gaze and flashed a grin. Tasha smiled back, though she felt oddly out of place.
The teachers began their lessons, rotating after each segment. By the end, most of the room was more interested in gossip than exams.
Tasha lingered afterward, debating whether to approach Clinton. Her heart raced. She squeezed past the crowd, then called out, "Clinton—can I talk to you?"
The boys turned. Clinton squinted at her. "No," he said.
Her breath caught.
"Who's she?" someone asked.
"My parents' housekeeper," Clinton replied. Loud enough to be heard before he walked away.
Vivian who'd been close by, nearby gasped. "You're a maid?" she said to Tasha. "In Clinton's house? Is that why you got in this school? Because they're paying your fees? Is that why he—" Her voice rose with each word, cutting through the hallway. "Is that how you slept with him?" Tasha had told her and Anna about it back then in the cafeteria where they'd met in her first day of school.
Tasha's chest tightened. "Please don't," she whispered, tears already forming. To him, she was just the help.
Vivian stepped forward, smug beneath her purple wig. "Sorry," she said, though her tone suggested otherwise.
"No, you're not," Tasha choked, and fled.
•
Clinton saw her, a glimpse of her sprinting toward the south corridor, wiping her face. He stepped away from his friends.
"I'll be back," he said, not waiting for their reply.
Tasha was in the restroom, staring at her tear-streaked face in the mirror. She was foolish to think he could love her. She was nothing to him.
"You're not good enough," she whispered to herself. "He'll never love you."
Then she saw him behind her in the mirror.
She turned, heart in her throat, but before she could speak, he took her hand and pulled her into a stall.
Tasha stared at him, eyes wide. "What do you want from me?"
He didn't answer. Their bodies were inches apart. His breath tickled her skin. For a moment, she forgot to be afraid. She wanted him. Badly.
Clinton leaned in, lips nearly brushing hers, but a voice outside broke the spell.
Then he stepped out, into a room full of girls who gawked and whispered.
"Clinton?" someone gasped.
Tasha waited. She knew what they were thinking. And when she emerged, their stares confirmed it.
•
Daniel was walking toward the hallway when he saw her. Tasha. Same sad eyes. Beautiful smile. He stepped forward and caught her arm gently.
"What's your name?" His voice was warm, eyes bright.
She hesitated, then said, "Tasha."
"A beautiful name," he said.
Danielle was behind him, beaming. She did a happy dance in the distance and mouthed something ridiculous.
"I'm Daniel," he said, still holding her arm.
"Nice to meet you," Tasha said, finally freeing herself.
Danielle appeared like magic, wrapping her arm around Tasha's shoulder. "This is my friend," she announced proudly.
Daniel said nothing, just gave a quiet nod and walked off. Even his cologne was expensive.
As he disappeared, Danielle grinned. "Tell me everything."
Tasha smiled faintly. "It was just a name exchange."
"With Daniel? The son of the biggest property magnate in the country? Girl, it's a big deal. What are you thinking about?" She nudged her.
Tasha looked at her. She wanted to confess everything, the kiss, the stall, the pain, but instead, she said, "Nothing happened."
Danielle didn't believe her, but she let it go.
They walked out together, hair whipping in the breeze.
"We'll take the bus together," Danielle chirped. "But first? Snacks. My treat."
"I could use something cold," Tasha murmured.
Then a voice called out behind them: "You slept with Daniel too?"
Vivian.
Danielle stopped. "What is she talking about?" she asked, confused.
Tasha didn't answer. But her eyes locked on Clinton, who was standing by his sleek car, watching everything, expression unreadable.