Chapter 4

                                    

                                          
"Alright, class. Please don't forget about your essays. I know that they're annoying but I have to have you all do at least four per semester, it's policy for this class," Harry and the rest of his English class rolled their eyes. He hated essays. Mainly because they were time consuming and very annoying when thinking about it. He wasn't sure how he maintained the highest GPA in his class these past four years as he procrastinated all the time. 
                          
"I still don't know why she keeps giving us essays when she knows half of the class doesn't even do them. Why are you in this class anyway?" Benny asked from beside Harry as he was writing down notes.
                          
Harry shrugged, "guess I'm not a good writer or something," he lied. English was the only AP  class that he didn't choose. At the end of the day, it didn't matter to him. As long as he did what he had to do, get into the college of his dreams and leave. He hated high school.
                          
"Yeah, let's go with that," Benny nodded and sat back down in his seat. After a few more minutes the bell finally rang. Everyone got up from their seats and began exiting since they were already packed up and eager to leave while Harry was still getting his things together. 
                          
As he was zipping up his bag, he felt a presence. Then suddenly, something smack onto the desk in front of him.
                          
He looked up to see Zulema. He looked her up and down, almost biting his lip at the beauty he saw before him, before she snapped him out of his daze.
                          
"Please take this back," she slid the 20 dollar bill over to him. 
                          
Harry looked at it and then back at her. He raised a brow, "the tea was $20, correct?" 
                          
Zulema chuckled lowly, another damn smile at her lips, "no. That was 50¢"
                          
His mouth made an o shape, "oh, I see... Well then, keep the change," he dipped his chin and got up from his seat. 
                          
Zulema shook her head, "I don't want your money," she took the bill, stuffing it into his bag on the table. She knew he was going to give her the money back.
                          
She was about to turn to walk away before he stopped her, "wait," he cleared his voice. This was it. His chance to suck her in once again. 
                          
Sometimes he wondered if he had morals at all. He felt as if being a teenager was some kind of justification for being a total asshole to everyone. 
                          
"Yes?" Her head moved to the side. Her curls drooping over her left shoulder.
                          
"I need help with this English essay... You seem like you know what you're doing in this class." He trailed off, knowing already what she was going to say.
                          
"And you w-want my help?" 
                          
He nodded, "yes." Of course not. Harry was great at writing essays. He's never gotten lower than a A in that subject so it was pretty obvious what the boy was trying to do, which was get her to go to his house.
                          
"Um. Sure... When?" She asked quietly, so that the teacher wouldn't hear. Apparently it was considered cheating to receive help from another student on an essay which counted as a test grade— a rule far too broad to follow.
                          
"How's tomorrow at my place? Around five-ish?" He raised a brow, hoping she'd agree.
                          
He started to wonder if it was really about weed. He could easily lie to his parents when asking for money. To Harry, his ego was way more important and he wouldn't let some stupid bet ruin that.
                          
Zulema nodded instantly, "yeah, okay... Sure," she trailed off awkwardly. Harry could tell that she was uncomfortable. In a way he knew that she sensed what was going to happen. And the good part was, she didn't anything to stop it.
                          
-
                          
"You're a fucking asshole. You don't just get to Booty call me at 10 o clock at night and then just leave me confused, Harry," Mori, another one of his angry ex's scolded as she followed him to his locker. Harry silently cursed to himself. Why did he keep calling her when he was bored?
                          
"I can and I did," was all he said, stepping close to his locker as he hid the combination from her sight. You never know what people are capable of when they have your locker combination.
                          
"But we literally got to talk for, like, two minutes and then fucked. Is that really what you wanted?" She asked, putting her right hand on her hip, shifting her weight on that side.
                          
Harry froze in the midst of turning the dial, head halfway turned, "I mean, yeah. That's why I didn't call you back, right?" He said as if it were obvious.
                          
He knew he was being rude, but he also knew that hitting and quitting was like winning stupid bets. It made him feel better about himself in a way that fed into his ego. Because when you have respect like he did, everything was so much easier. If he wanted to, he'd run for class president. And win.
                          
"Why?" She asked after moments of silence.
                          
"Why what?" Harry took a book out of his locker.
                          
"All I ask is for one date. Just one date and you can't even do that."
                          
Harry scoffed, "why would I wanna go on a date with you?" 
                          
Mori was taken aback, "I get that I'm not the most pleasant person to be around. But don't you realize some people actually have feelings no matter how slutty they are?"
                          
"Okay? I'm slutty too, you don't see me begging girls to go on dates," he chuckled, stuffing the book in his bag. He honestly just wanted that damn bell to ring already.
                          
He was fully aware of who he was. He was a slut who slept around with whoever he wanted. He never denied being a "man-whore" as Mori called him from time to time. Denying it would just make him look foolish and he knew that, so he acknowledged it.
                          
"You don't have to beg, girls will willingly go out with you, you're just an asshole," she told him curtly.
                          
"Explains why you're here, then."
                          
"Oh, fuck off."