Knowing You

Chapter 15 - I Know Places

"They take their shots,
But we're bulletproof.
And you know for me,
It's always you."
- Taylor Swift

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Mia's POV

I let out a sigh and turn to face the only person I know who could be so annoying with so few words.

"Do we really have to do this right now, Nicki? It's literally eight in the morning."

She shrugs, brushing her long hair over her shoulder. She's lightened it some since the last time we talked, making it more blonde than brown, and the black eye I gave her is completely healed. Basically, her face is back to looking just as perfectly constructed as it did before.

Well, actually, her nose looks just a tiny bit crooked since the fight, but that could totally just be my imagination.

Or, you know, wishful thinking.

She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the lockers beside me. "What? I'm just trying to bond with you. He is good, isn't he? And in bed? Damn. No one else has even come close." She lets out a deep sigh like she's experiencing it all over again, and I'm not sure I've ever been more pissed off in my life. "Oh, but I guess you wouldn't know, would you?"

Fun fact - ever since our altercation on the first day of school, Nicki hasn't had the nerve to try cornering me again, at least, not without witnesses, but that hasn't stopped her and her like-minded posse from trying to find more creative ways to ruin my day.

Rather than a direct assault, they've now switched tactics to a guerrilla warfare style of battle - also known as making snide comments and hurling insults pretty much any time I happen to walk by.

It's not my favorite thing in the world, but I can handle it. I mean, it's not like it's anything I haven't heard before, right?

Unfortunately, I have a much harder time brushing off the things they say about Hunter.

Look, I'm well aware that the Hunter Scott who went to St. John's was a very different guy from the one I'm dating.

The problem is, some of the girls who transferred here have started taking every opportunity to describe exactly how different to me in excruciating detail.

Mostly it's just Nicki and her lackeys, but every now and then, I'll get a complete stranger asking me if he's really as good with his hands as she's heard.

Can't make this stuff up.

Long story short, walking the hallways has become an advanced exercise in self-control. These people are pushing buttons I didn't even know I had, and no matter how thick-skinned I try to convince myself I am, it's starting to grate on me.

I shut my locker and turn on Nicki. It's impossible to miss the way she takes a step back, like there's still a part of her afraid that I might reach out and slap her.

Honestly, you hit someone one time, and you're marked for life.

"Look," I start, fighting to keep my voice calm, "do you think you could stay out of my relationship for maybe five minutes?"