All I've Never Wanted(3)
Following Carlo was Zack Perry. The grinning Greek-god-look-a-like hopped enthusiastically from his bright yellow Porsche, his golden hair gleaming under the sun like a halo. In my opinion, the eternally good-natured Zack seemed to be the only one who's even remotely human in the group. A musician and singer, he constantly has a smile to his face, though I guess if I stood to inherit billions thanks to my family's dominance in the steel and railroad industry, I'd be happy too.
Suddenly, a low murmur rippled through the crowd, and when I looked to see what had everyone in such a tizzy, I was shocked to see a girl had emerged from the passenger seat of Zack's car. She was stunningly beautiful and supermodel tall, with a cascading mane of perfect blonde waves and a delicate, heart-shaped face that boasted bright blue-green eyes, high cheekbones, and rosy pink lips. Her slender, perfect body was encased in a beautiful pale green silk sundress that probably cost more than an average person's monthly rent.
Actually, now that I looked more closely, she bore a striking resemblance to Zack.
"No way. No. Freaking. Way." Venice's jaw was almost grazing the ground.
"Who is that?" I asked curiously. The Scions had never, ever made an entrance with a girl before.
"If I'm correct, that's no other than Adriana Perry, Zack's twin sister."
I blinked. "He has a twin sister?"
"Yeah." Venice didn't tear her eyes from the spectacle. "They're really close but she's been at some Swiss boarding school since eighth grade."
"How do you know all of this stuff?"
Venice just looked at me. "Um, I live for gossip, remember?"
Oh yeah. I’d forgotten about that.
Everyone had quieted down again, I realized, because the main attraction was finally showing his face.
Roman Fiori. The sole heir to the world's largest fortune, which encompassed shipping, oil, electronics, telecommunications, textiles, and sports franchises; an athletic prodigy hailed as the second coming of Michael Jordan, Pele, and Joe Montana rolled into one; the single hottest specimen to ever walk the face of this earth.
According to all the girls who are currently peeing themselves in excitement, anyway. I mean, I guess I can kind of see it. The entire package—the thick, wavy black hair, the naturally golden bronze skin, the sleek muscular body, the cut-glass cheekbones, and those one-of-a-kind, gold-flecked dark violet eyes—was made to melt girls' hearts.
Ok, so I can totally see it, but luckily, it takes more than just supernaturally good looks to win me over. As far as I'm concerned, Roman Fiori is the biggest jerk alive and as arrogant as they come.
The small group made their way leisurely towards the school. Roman was at front, of course, flanked by Carlo and Parker; Zack and Adriana brought up the rear.
The crowd on the stairs parted like the Red Sea for Moses.
Roman's face was expressionless as he made his way up the stairs and inside the hallway.
Everyone waited until all the Scions and Adriana were safely out of earshot before they started buzzing about the latter's sudden appearance.
"Do you think something happened at boarding school?"
"Ohmygod, I can't believe she's going here now!"
"Man, she's hot!"
It was at that moment that the bell finally, blissfully rang.
I let out a relieved sigh. "Come on, let's get to class or we'll be late," I said, pulling Venice like she'd pulled me earlier.
"Yeah, I make you watch the hottest guys ever and you make me go write essays," she grumbled. "Some friend you are."
I smirked. "You'll thank me one day."
* * *
Rrrring! The bell signaling the end of third period and the start of lunch hadn't even finished ringing before the hallways were filled with hungry high schoolers clamoring for their daily intake of gourmet sushi and pastries flown in from France.
Yes, that is really what they serve in our Dining Center, or DC, as everyone calls it. Fitting, considering the politics in our DC outrivals that of our nation's capitol tenfold.
I sidestepped an overly PDA-ing couple and pushed my way into the girls' bathroom, which is all done up with Italian marble, sterling-silver faucets, and jewel-toned velvet furniture in the lounge area, though why a public bathroom—or any bathroom, for that matter—needs a lounge area is beyond me. There's even a bathroom attendant presiding over an array of European toiletries.
There were already three girls in the bathroom when I came in, all stick-thin, whose green-and-gold plaid uniform skirts were shortened to the skankiest proportions possible.
They're the type of girls who usually take the time to shoot me a disdainful look before going right back to their primpfests, sometimes throwing in a snide comment about me being a scholarship student or something.
Scholarship students were very, very rare at Valesca. Academically speaking, that was a good thing, since recipients were viewed very favorably by college admissions committees (according to my guidance counselor). Socially speaking…not so much. Merit was a main factor in scholarship decisions, but so was financial need. Being a scholarship kid basically implied my family wasn’t rich enough to afford the schools six-figure tuition bill in full—which was true—and since there is virtually nothing more important than money in Valesca, you can see why my scholarship status might be a problem.