How to Destroy a Rich Boy

Chapter Seven

With an exasperated sigh, I combed a hand through my hair before turning my attention back to my laptop screen. I was supposed to be typing up the rest of my economic notes, but I couldn't concentrate for the life of me. 

Pressing two fingers to the bridge of my nose, I desperately tried to drown out the distant hum of other college students chatting and laughing around us. Brandon sat across from me at our little table with his psychology textbook spread out before him, and a pen between his teeth.

We were at our Uni café – which was a place where a lot of students liked to study and relax while also getting something to eat. Another moment of silence went by before I let out another frustrated tut as I found myself reading the same line for the eighteenth time.

Brandon lifted his head up and looked across at me with curious eyes. 

"Okay, you're officially tutting more than my judgmental middle-aged mother. What's wrong, Soph?" he asked gently. 

I cracked a smile and gave a little aimless shrug. "N-"

"And don't say nothing," he interrupted before I could finish. 

I sighed in defeat. "Okay fine, I just..I.. just still feel a little shaken up after my boxing lesson with Nathan," I mumbled.

 I'd already filled Brandon in on what happened between Nathan and me at the gym last night. And let me tell you, it was a long night of bitterness and complaint from my end. 

But can you blame me? The boy had stormed out of the room just because I had touched him like I was some creepy pedophile or something.

"Oh right," he winced. "That wasn't the best start to your plans for seduction, was it?" he piped in unhelpfully.

"You think?" I scoffed. "At this rate, I'm going to be eighty-five before he gives me the time of day!"

"Really; that soon? My guess was the year one-hundred-and-two," he joked with a cheeky grin.

 "Mean," I cried as I gave him a sharp kick from underneath the table. 

He jutted out his lip. "Oww," he cried as he reached under the table and started to soothingly rub up and down his leg.

"But no, seriously, Brandon, I don't get what the fuck his problem was? I barely even touched him at all. From the way he was acting, you'd think I had tried to grope his fucking dick or something," I laughed.

Brandon chuckled. "Yeah, I don't get that either. It's not typical player behavior at all," he drawled in confusion. 

"Yeah, maybe...maybe...I'm not his type," I mumbled quietly. It was a hard truth to swallow, but it was looking like the most likely. 

Brandon's eyes softened. "Well, if you're not, he's got shit taste," he piped in optimistically.

His comment cheered me up slightly, and the corners of my lips lifted slightly. "Yeah, I am pretty hot, aren't I?" I joked as I winked at him flirtatiously. 

"Hmm, and modest too," Brandon hummed as he picked up his cappuccino cup and took a long judgmental sip.

I laughed in response, and soon, the two of us got back to work.

I tried my best to shove all thoughts of Nathan to the back of my mind, but they kept fighting their way back to the surface. 

Wasn't his type, was I? Well, let's see who his type was then...

Before I could stop myself, my finger moved to open up a new window, and I logged myself into Instagram. I quickly typed his name into the search bar, and the first recommendation that popped up was his account.