Sexts → Gerard Piqué

Jackie

You're chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You: aye

Stranger: hello

You: asl?

Stranger: 15 m usa

You have disconnected the chat.

You're chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You: aye

Stranger: asl?

You: 17 f

Stranger: do u like older men?

You: how old?

Stranger: like 42?

You have disconnected the chat.

You're chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You: hello

Stranger: F, 16 here ;)

Stranger: my kik's laurenjbebe456 ;)

Stranger: wanna trade pictures with me? ;)

You have disconnected.

"Are you busy with something?" A manly voice made me snap my head upright, whilst slamming the laptop shut. "Jordi-" I breathed, casually pushing the laptop to my side. "What do you want?" I snapped.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nothing," he squinted his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. "What were you doing?"

"Why do I have to tell you?" My eyes did a whole 360 degree roll that made him chortle sardonically. "You're fifteen minutes late to school, that's why."

My jaw flung open as my vision darted over to the period piece wall clock. The next thing I knew; I was hurtling around the four walls of my room, shoving school essentials inside my backpack. Not giving two hoots about my mien, I sprinted downstairs and galloped outside my abode, leaving an astounded brother and a mother, who kept hollering at me to eat my breakfast.

I was late to school and wasn't really expecting a good day either. I paused before the mahogany door, inhaling sharply— I was late for physics.

Being late for physics wasn't a big deal, but being late for his class was indeed something you wouldn't want to do.

His. By his, I mean Gerard Piqué Bernabeu, more of every female student's heartthrob than a physics teacher. Every girl in school would thrive for his attention— some in a good way, and the rest by committing mistakes. He, however would overlook everything, being ever so professional.

I pushed the door open, wondering if he would forgive me for being around thirty minutes late.

The wooden door creaked, making him avert his gaze from the blackboard to my profile. Before he could utter a single word, I started blabbering.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Piqué, I missed the bus and had to walk, my brother's car isn't working either so I couldn't manage to—"

"Miss Alba," his deep, husky voice reverberated in the room. "Rules are rules, you will have to stay back for detention." I took a glimpse of my classmates' jealous countenances. "Now please settle down."

I exhaled in despair— thanks to Omegle and thanks to Louise, my best friend for introducing me to the site that ruined my day.

"He talked to you!" Louise whispered from behind as I seated myself at my respective desk. I nodded meekly; although he talked to me, what he said wasn't something I'd be excited, or elated about.