Author: felixfelicis PM
When straight-A good girl Jordan Scotsfield realizes that the one thing that could prevent her from getting into her dream school is her lack of creativity, she's forced to enlist the help of the last person she wants help from: a sarcastic boy with a guitar and some crazy good writing skills.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Chapters: 4 - Words: 9,531 - Reviews: 12 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 8 - Updated: 02-09-13 - Published: 10-07-12 - id: 3063929
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Warning: This chapter contains strong drug references (marijuana). Please do not read if you think you'll be offended!
The next day, when Jordan got to English class, Demetri was looking at her funny. She glanced at him, then selected the seat as far away from him as possible. She had managed to avoid any altercations with him during lunch, abandoning her normal spot for fear that he would be near there. Jordan began taking out her English materials, but she still felt like Demetri was staring at her. Sure enough, when she looked over, his blue eyes were trained on her. Jordan awaited the snarky comment from him, but he didn't say anything.
The class was about grammar, something Jordan was good at, so she didn't give the class her normal undivided attention. Demetri, thankfully, had stopped looking at her. Instead, she noticed with disdain that he was doodling on the desk. The desk itself, not even just paper on the desk. Jordan shook her head. She shouldn't have expected anything but vandalism from him.
When class ended, Jordan walked up to Mr. Dalton's desk. "Mr. Dalton? I was wondering if you had given any thought as to someone I could work with to do better in the class? I know I just asked you yesterday, but..."
Mr. Dalton stood up. "As a matter of fact, Jordan, I actually did come up with someone. He's a brilliant creative writer. Some of the things he's written... They affect you in ways you don't think that a high school's writing should." He nodded behind her. "Mr. Williamson."
It took about five seconds for the name that Mr. Dalton had just said to her to process. Surely there had to be another Mr. Williamson. After all, Demetri didn't look like the type who knew how to write his own name, let alone be some amazing writer. Besides, he would never agree to help her. She was fairly certain he hated her.
But when she turned around, she knew that her worst fear had just become realized. Demetri was leaning against a desk, smirking at her. Smirking. Jordan spun back around. "Um... Mr. Dalton, isn't there... Someone else I could work with?" She hissed the last part.
"Not if you want a really good grade in this class," Mr. Dalton said. "It's up to you, obviously. But this is my offer. Demetri will help you improve. I know he will."
Demetri pushed himself up from the desk. "So? What do you say? You and me... English buddies?" His words were dripping with sarcasm, and his smirk had gotten even wider.
Jordan exhaled deeply. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to work with someone like Demetri Williamson, someone who she hated and who obviously wasn't a huge fan of her.
But then she realized that these were the kind of sacrifices she had to make if she wanted to get into Stanford. And she wanted to get into Stanford. She needed to. "I'll do it," she found herself saying.
Mr. Dalton looked pleased. Demetri, however, looked shocked, then disappointed. "Shit," he murmured.
"Excellent," Mr. Dalton said with a grin. "This is going to be the start of a great partnership, I can tell."
Jordan wasn't convinced.
When they got outside of the classroom, Jordan went to her locker to get her books for History. When she shut her locker, Demetri was right there, glaring at her. She grimaced, not feeling like hearing whatever he had to say, and turned to walk away, but Demetri grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him, pulling her right up to his face. It struck her that this was the second time they had met like this. He smelled like cigarettes and a stench that she was pretty sure was pot, and she wrinkled her nose.
"What the fuck," Demetri said, his breath hot on her face.
"What do you mean?" Jordan asked. She was actually scared of him, but she didn't want him to know that, so she managed to keep the shaking out of her voice. For the most part.
"You weren't supposed to accept, god damnit!" He released her and slammed his fist into the locker next to her. "You were supposed to say no. I mean, you obviously hate my fucking guts, so why you wanted to do this bullshit at all is beside me."
"Look," Jordan said, glancing at her watch and realizing that she was very late for History. "I want help in English, and your help was offered to me. So I'm going to accept. Now, I have to go to class. We can make arrangements to meet in class on Monday." She walked off, trying to look more confident than she actually felt.
Demetri gawked at her, and it wasn't until she was halfway down the hall when he screamed, "God damnit!" again and stalked off in the opposite direction.
Jordan shook her head as she headed to History. The boy had major issues. She realized what a sign of desperation it was to be working with someone she truly despised. It was going to be seriously weird working with him, but she figured that she would at least give it a shot.
Demetri Williamson slowly inhaled, feeling the marijuana pass through his lips. He closed his eyes and swallowed, then breathed out thick smoke that reeked of the familiar half-skunk-half-garbage scent of pot.
Demetri didn't blaze a lot. No, he preferred his nicotine and regular cigarettes, a preference that a majority of his friends didn't understand considering their obsession with pot. They said that it was like a way to escape from the craziness of society, but Demetri's ideology was that you couldn't just run from the fucked-up world; you had to face it with your middle finger up. But when he needed more than stress relief, which was what his cigarettes provided him with, he would turn to the ganja.
He absolutely needed more than stress relief today.
The little bitch that had caused his biggest problem of the moment was currently playing lacrosse relatively near the location of Demetri's weed site. He had walked by her on his way out here, and the attempt with his mind to blow up her fucking prissy ass head had been unsuccessful. And he had been seriously focusing.
The problem was how god damn unexpected this newfound partnership was to him. He had known what Dalton's plan was. Dalton couldn't bribe Demetri with a higher grade in the class- he was well aware that Demetri would get an A plus without any extra credit. So instead, the clever son of a bitch had offered something better, and something that Demetri and his band seriously needed- an opportunity play at the Winter Rain club, a venue that Dalton's brother happened to own. It was also a venue that had held some of the best upcoming bands in their halls pre-fame. The Killers, Flaming Lips and, most recently, Young the Giant had all played there before hitting it big.
It wasn't that Demetri didn't like Dalton. Because he did. In fact, he was his favorite teacher. No other teacher seemed to get him the way that Dalton did. He lacked the huge stick up his ass that every other teacher had at Fulford High. Besides, it seemed like Dalton actually cared about him, for some strange reason. And he could appreciate that in a teacher, considering how completely detached most teachers tended to be from their students.
Dalton wasn't the issue. It had been a fair enough proposition- but the problem with it had been that, when he had heard who Dalton wanted him to help, he was certain that she would say no. There were plenty of people who weren't huge fans of Demetri Williamson. He had his fair share of foes, probably more people that disliked him than liked him. But her feelings towards him had seemed to cross the border of dislike and descended into fucking hatred. The way she looked at him when he had thrown down her precious physics homework... If looks could kill.
Not that he had cared. To be honest, he felt the same way about her. She was a little priss who failed to find meaning in the best aspects of life- in music, in creativity. She was like a fucking robot. It was a reciprocated hatred, though. He hated her. And, in return, she hated him.
So that was why he was so god damn pissed about this whole arrangement. Dalton had said that he could set up the gig whether she accepted it or not- but if she did accept it, he had to go through with it. And the worst part was that the stuck-up little bitch would definitely tell Dalton if he wasn't actually helping her... Demetri took another hit as he leaned against a tree. He let the high affect him as much as possible, closing his eyes and inhaling the air around him.
Jordan Scotsfield. A pretentious, whiny snob. And he had to help her to get another "A" to add to the list of A's she probably already had, so she could pin it to her refrigerator with a magnet and look at it all the time and be reminded just how awesome she truly was. Wooh fucking hoo.
His thoughts were interrupted by the cold touch of a hand on his wrist. He turned slowly, as the marijuana was making him feel rather lethargic. Standing there was KiKi Stanlen. She had her white-blonde hair tied into braids and she reeked of pot.
"'Sup, Kiki?" he asked, debating whether or not to hook up with her. Their relationship was a little dysfunctional, to say the least. They would hook up, then not talk for weeks. They'd fucked three times, only one of which both were sober, and none of which had been particularly fun for either party involved.
"Not much," she said. Her eyes were bloodshot, per usual, and her eyeliner was smudged all around her eyes. She was the definition of a stoner, and she had a home life even more fucked up than his own. Major daddy issues. Too much baggage for Demetri. But she was fun to be around, and she was fucking hot. She ran her hand over his chest. "It's been a while," she said in her always-slow and dazed voice.
"Yeah, it has." Demetri looked up at her. In his head, he was weighing the pros and cons of making out with her. He wasn't feeling it, but maybe it would help to get his mind off of things. So with that he leaned in and began to kiss her. Within five minutes her top was off and he had her pushed up against a tree. She leaned down and fingered the zipper of his pants. She pulled it down slowly and got down to the level of his crotch.
But something inside of him didn't want her to blow him. He was in the mood for it sometimes, and right now happened to not be one of those times. Maybe it was because he was a little bit baked. So he gently pushed her away. KiKi looked surprised. "The hell?" she exclaimed.
Demetri shrugged. "Let's just stop there, kay, Keeks?"
She looked at him with cold anger. "Fuck you very much, Demetri." She stumbled off, probably to go fuck some dealer so he'd give her weed for free.
The momentary distraction from his current problems had kept his mind off of Jordan, but now that KiKi was gone, he was thinking about her again, and filled with an immense amount of frustration.
The drugs decreased his frustration, though. It was a tiny getaway, although not nearly as far away as he wanted to be. He didn't want to be here, but it was the best that he could get. So he would probably be out here quite a bit during this hell in which he'd actually have to tutor the queen of all bitches.
Soo I don't know if any of you guys remember and/or care about this story anymore, but I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long... Hopefully I'll be able to update a lot now that college apps are done and stuff. I promise I won't abandon this story anymore.
Fay Fibonacci: That's kind of the point with Jordan, haha, she's annoying but you're kind of rooting for her. Thanks!
IAmAnAeroplane: She's definitely pretty up herself... Thanks for the review!
InsanityandBeyond: That's my goal! Thanks a lot :]
Until next time (which I promise will be soon),