The moment Jordan's butt hit the seat, the two girls perked up.
"Ohmygosh, hiiii!" Kiley tossed her hair and stuck her chest out. Marianne squirmed in her chair, making a hasty attempt to smooth out her crop top before draping herself across her desk, boobs not-so-subtly pressed together.
"Uh, hey." Jordan limply waved back. He was a piece of steak being sized up by a pair of starving dogs, and he did not know what to think of it.
...Three starving wolves. The mousey-minx to his left also had a book pressed up to her crotch.
"Haw haw haw! Get a load of that man-whore." Daniel jeered. Jordan's archnemesis. The cocky, arrogant, asshole playboy. He had everything Jordan did not: wealth, grades, a chiseled physique, and most of all, girls. Girl. What did they see in him? Was it the blonde crew cut or was it the biker jacket, because whatever it was, it couldn't have been his personality. "He'll stick anything up his gash."
Killey flipped him the bird. "Just shut up! I'll whack my stick all up in your bush!"
Daniel only laughed harder, Talisha's screeching giggles joining in. "Oh you are priceless."
"Don't listen to him." Marianne took Jordan's moment of hesitation to scoot closer to him, pressing her breasts against his shoulder. "He is just full of himself because he's a herm."
"A herm?" Jordan's lips slowly lifted in a smirk. Yeah. Why should he listen to that asshole? Just a day ago, girls barely looked at him and looked vaguely uncomfortable when they did. Now, three (a quick look confirmed the chestnut-haired geek still fidgeted in her seat) could not get enough of him. Sure he had a hole now and they had a pole, but far as he was concerned, it was a small price to pay.
A loud whap cut through the room.
"Alright, settle down, settle down." Mr. Price slapped his paperback book on his desk. His voice was a tired monotone. "We have a lot to get through today."
The din of conversation did not quiet a decibel. Unperturbed, Price droned on.
Price always looked disheveled, his suit was unbuttoned and his black hair hung in long rivulets across his face like the head of a mop. His eyes were glazed over and bloodshot, as if he were stoned. His class was a mandatory joke and he was well-aware of it. Jordan suspected that half their required reading was the very man's dribble.