JAKE'S POV

"JAKE, where the hell have you been?! I've been calling you for ages!"

Sierra's sharp voice in my freshly pierced right ear makes my jaw clench. I hang up and press the pedal harder, shooting my car forward. I'm already late for school, and she's on my case again.

This girl is my main squeeze—I mean, girlfriend—but man, she can be annoying as fuck. She's been bombarding my phone with missed calls and messages for the past hour, and I couldn't care less.

Our first class starts at 9 a.m., but she wanted me to grab a coffee with her at Le Reve, the overpriced campus coffee shop. It's worth it though, because their Wi-Fi is faster than a lightning bolt on an energy drink and the baristas actually get your name right, no matter how unique or complicated.

I'm tired of her forcing me to take thousands of pictures of her holding that damn frappuccino from every possible angle. After all that, she'll pick one—yes, just one—picture to post on Instagram. Honestly, she looks the same in all of them. Then she'll slap on a caption about her warm coffee on a cold morning, maybe toss in a random Bible verse or some Google-searched inner beauty shit, while I wallow in my drink which would be as cold as the water in Antarctica by that time.

If it weren't for her looks and certain...skills, I'd have ditched her already.

Girls are only good for boosting my ego and some physical fun. But emotionally? They're a mess. They're all the same. I've dated all kinds, and they have a lot in common:

One, they're as sensitive as fuck and can't live without the attention and ego boosters.

Two, their beast mode activates whenever they're hungry.

And three, they're shallow and demanding most of the time and take forever to get ready.

I'm the kind of guy who likes to control my own time, and no one should take that away from me. If you want a piece of it, you better be anything but boring and definitely not fit into those three annoying categories I mentioned earlier.

Sierra's a bit of an exception. She transferred to our school last year and instantly became Queen Bee. Boys and some girls drool over her. Girls and some guys envy her. And why not? She's got the body of a porn star. I was pretty stoked when I made her mine. It wasn't that hard, honestly.

But the thing is...

I'm not in love with her.

What is love, anyway? I'm not sure. All I know is it's a bunch of corny, unnecessary nonsense. It makes you weak. Guys in love turn into something like a loyal dog, following their girls around and bending to their every whim. Just the thought of it makes me cringe.

I'm allergic to commitments, so one thing's for sure: I'm gonna get tired of Sierra soon.

I glance at my watch and see I've got fifteen minutes to kill before my first class. When I reach Crosswell High, I park in my usual spot near the entrance. Everyone at school knows it's my space and wouldn't dare mess with me.

As usual, when I get out, all eyes are on me. A group of girls in one corner lets out a collective sigh when I lower my shades. Happens every time, and honestly, it's getting old. With a smug look, I nod at some friends and the girls staring at me as I strut down the hallway toward my locker.

But hold up a sec.

My pace slows down when I spot a particular girl standing awkwardly in front of her locker, staring at it like she's seeing little green horses fly through the keyhole. She's dressed in a black, baggy long-sleeved shirt and a skirt that flows below her knees. Her love for black doesn't stop there—her stockings, shoes, and bag are also straight out of a gothic nightmare.

Damn, baby girl's got some tragic fashion sense. She's got this long-ass hair almost covering her face, and you can guess the color.

Is she an exchange student from hell?

With furrowed brows, I step closer to get a good look at her face, but she suddenly turns around and reveals it herself.

Holy fuck.

I step back, nearly dropping my phone at the terrifying sight. She looks like a ghost or a demon from a big-budget horror film. Her face is caked in thick foundation or whatever that sticky stuff is girls use to look paler. Her lipstick is also black and her thick black eyeliner would certainly make pandas think that she's a part of their family.

I just stand there, staring into her bright green eyes. Her face is blank, while mine probably looks like I just got bitten by a snake on my most sensitive part.

I want to move, but my feet feel nailed to the ground like some strange force is holding me in place.

"JAKE!"

The familiar voice of my best friend Zeus snaps me out of it. I whip around to see him with Marcus and Sierra, who's wearing a sexy frown while crossing her arms.

Ah, my main squad. They're all waiting for me at the end of the hallway.

I look back to check the freak one more time, but she's gone. I scan the area, but she's nowhere to be found. Seriously? There's no way she can fit inside a narrow locker, and she's definitely not related to The Flash.

"Looking for someone?"

I didn't notice my girlfriend approaching me. I sigh in relief when I see she's not that mad. I wrap my arm around her and plant a soft kiss on her cheek to avert any incoming outburst.

"I just..." I look back once more for that girl, but she's probably in her class by now.

"There was this weird girl earlier who really creeped me out. She was like a walking black hole, and her face was fucking scary. I've never seen her before."

They all look at me with wary expressions.

"Are you talking about Pepsi?" Zeus asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Pepsi? Dude, I'm not thirsty," I reply, confused, as they all burst into giggles.

"Seriously, Jake. You don't know her?" Marcus asks nonchalantly while munching on Doritos at this early hour.

Oh...So it's actually a name, and it's her name.

"Why? What's with her?" Curiosity gets the best of me.

"Babe, are you serious? We've talked about her a few times already," Sierra snaps. Vague memories of them mentioning a weird girl float into my mind, but I usually don't give a crap about nonsense because I'm too busy checking out other girls' Snapchats.

"Just... stay away from her, okay?" Zeus warns sternly, squeezing my shoulder. I smell a challenge and start imagining the thrill of normalizing a "freak."

"And why would I do that?" I wonder if she's hiding the perfect curves beneath those clothes. I'd definitely want to tap that.

"She's a witch, babe," my girlfriend says as if she's just discovered the cure for cancer.

What?

"Witch? What witch?" I ask dismissively.

"Oh, come on, Jake. Is there any other meaning for a witch?" She looks at me like I'm a clueless second grader.

"Uhm, a sand-witch?" I chuckle at my own joke. Cue the sound of crickets as they all throw me their best poker faces.

Sierra saves the moment, "Haven't you heard the rumors? Where have you been all these years?"

I shrug and urge her to continue.

Zeus, still looking serious, butts in, "There was this student who tried to rape Pepsi three years ago. After that incident, no one saw the guy ever again. The police did an extensive search, but not a single trace of him was found."

While chewing on the last piece of his Doritos, Marcus mumbles with wide eyes, "Yeah, and get this, guys. A strange dog showed up at their doorstep the day after he disappeared. His parents believed it was him because the dog had the same eyes and kept coming back whenever they threw it away."

My throat aches as I suppress my laughter. There's no way they're serious.

Our little ghost story session is interrupted when our teacher arrives, prompting us to head to our respective classes. I sit next to the window, still digesting what my friends told me. Speaking of the she-devil, I spot her familiar form sitting on a bench in Little Park, a small campus park visible from here.

Why didn't I notice this freak before?

Even from afar, she's unmistakable in her all-black ensemble. She's sitting peacefully with a book on her lap, while I'm here secretly watching her, starting to wonder how to penetrate her darkness—pun intended.

Moments later, I find myself smirking at the naughty thoughts of being under that black skirt...

*****To be continued*****

A/N:

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