"Cecilia, what're you doing? Hurry up!" My best friend was screaming from the living room.
I quickly slipped on my black flats and glanced my outfit over in the mirror: a black mini and a white tank-top. It was just another stupid high school party. As I headed out of my room, I thought back to the photo shoot I'd had earlier today....
"Honey, turn your head a little more to the right," Peter said.
"Jackson, pull Cecilia closer!" he demanded.
I shifted my head, my lips forming a thin line as the male model behind me, pulled me closer to his chest. His fingers on his left hand were splayed across the flesh on my stomach while his other hand rested on my hip. We were currently shooting a swimsuit ad for Sears. Yeah, we're not big professional models, just little ones for like store magazines, posters, and commercials.
Jackson Davids is the King Bee at Haven High School. I'm the Queen Bee. Normally, the Bees are supposed to be totally infatuated with each other, but we hate each others guts. Jackson is an a*sshole. Really.
"Children...get those disgusted looks off your faces," our Agent, Clara, said, giving us a pointed look. She was both of our Agents and I only wished that Jackson would find another one.
We both plastered on some friendly smiles and Peter snapped a shot. He told us to rearrange ourselves and I ended up having to press the front of my body to the front of Jackson's. I had to lift my leg, bending it at the knee. I threw my head back and gave an airy laugh, letting Peter get another shot.
"Be flirty," he said.
Jackson and I looked at him, our eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Peter's worked with us before. He's seen us throw insults back and forth at each other… and, yet, he had the nerve to ask us to flirt with each other? For a picture or two!
Jackson's face calmed and he whispered in my ear, "Hun, you're looking kind of constipated now."
I jerked back and glared. "You're an asshole!"
"Well, at least I'm a good-looking one."
"Oooh, so now looking like a pig's crap is good-looking? Wow."
"You're a bitch."
"You're a douche."
"Well, that's my excuse for bangin' guys. What's yours?" Now, I'm not really a slut. I'm still a virgin. I believe in waiting until marriage.
"You're a fu-" "KIDS!"
We turned to Clara who was fuming. "Apologize, now," she seethed.
I turned to Jackson, looking down at my toes, burying them in the sand. "Sorry, asshole," I murmured so only he would hear.
His wasn't so quiet. "JACKSON!"
"What? She said asshole!"
"Okay, okay. Jackson Davids, I'm truly sorry."
"Me too, Cecilia Richards."
"Now, may we get back to work?" Peter asked, giving a huge sigh.
"Surrrreeee," we groaned simultaneously.
An hour later, we were finished. Jackson and I were headed to our changing rooms, grumbling insults under our breath. "Why're you such a bitch?" he asked.
"Why're you such a fag?"
"You know I'm not gay, Cecilia."
"Oh, because you felt me up the first time we shot together?"
"Is that why you hate me?"
"No. I hate you cause you're an ass."
I smiled sweetly before ducking to the right into my changing room.
As we were leaving my house, Jazzy Carmen, her real name is Jasmine, and she's my best friend, asked me about the shoot. I turned to look at her. I was sitting in the passenger seat of her black bug. "How do you think it went?" I asked.
"Bad," she answered.
"I don't understand what you and Jackson have going on."
"We don't have anything going on," I threw at her.
"I meant I don't understand the problem between you two. What happened before I moved here?"
I had never told Jazzy what had happened. No one knew except for me and Jackson. Honestly, we used to be best friends, but in the eighth grade, he used me. I had really liked him and he used me to get to my best friend. She moved...and Jazzy took her place that next year. I guess I've held a grudge...
I sighed and told her the story. She listened as she drove, stopping at red lights and stop signs. She nodded in all the right places. When I finsihed, she turned to look at me. "Maybe, Cecilia, it's time to let that grudge go," she said.
I raised an eyebrow and looked her. "Are you serious?" I asked.
"Yeah. It was eighth grade, Cecilia."
I pursed my lips... "Maybe you're right. But he's still an a*sshole."
"You know how he treats girls!"
"Maybe he wouldn't treat the real girl he wants like that."
I stared at her, watching as she pulled over in front of a large house filled with cars and music was blaring. People were standing on the front lawn, some going inside. We were here, at the bigest party of the year. Alec George's New Year's Eve party. As we got out of the car, I asked, "What does that mean, Jazzy?"
"I think that he may actually like you."