MASTERCLASS LESSONS ON SEDUCTION

ANASTASIA'S POV My hands hovered over Asher's doorknob. There were exactly three reasons I shouldn't knock. First, he hated me. Second, I hated him. Third, I was about to ask him to teach me how to seduce his best friend, or rather, plead for his masterclass lessons on seduction, as he called it. It has been over ten minutes, and I haven't summoned the courage to knock. My name is Anastasia Greene, and last year, after starting school, I realized my whole existence has been a mess. For the past sixteen years of my life, my social circle consisted of my parents, my tutors, and several nurses. Then the doctor declared me healthy. Three months later, I found myself standing in the middle of a crowded high school having what felt suspiciously like a public nervous breakdown. It was different from my everyday routine; I had to actually see and meet people who were not just my parents, a nurse, and my tutor. Girls and boys my age breezed past laughing and chatting, and I remained frozen, not knowing what direction to turn to, well, until someone crashed into me. I learned his name was Asher. He looked rowdy and unserious. His hair was messy, and his clothes looked like he didn't know how to make use of an ironing board. He cursed me for being in his way, but maybe, because he looked so unsophisticated compared to the rest of the crowd, it was easy to ask him how to get to the classes. The look on his face gave the impression he would rather be anywhere than show me around. Days later, I blended in. Surprisingly, Asher was part of a popular boys' group at the school. They were the three hottest boys. Landon Grett, Fred Mayor, and Asher Lake. Everyone agreed to it, including me, with the exception. Asher. He was anything but hot. Everything about him was either unkempt, disheveled, or chaotic. His black hair looked like it was combed with his fingers. His uniform looked like it had been pulled straight from the dryer and thrown onto his body. He cut the line during break, slammed desks too loudly during classes, and just disrespected teachers whenever questions were directed at him. But there was Landon Grett. He made my heart race on the very first day. He was the coolest of them all with the bluest eyes on the planet. During break time, he bought lunch for a freshman who had lost his money, and even after closing time, his clothes were still sparkling clean. Above that, he was still the class representative. Girls were vying for his attention. I knew I stood no chance. He was too perfect. But two weeks ago, as he shared the midterm results, he paused at my desk and stared at me for a full five seconds, his gaze meeting mine as he muttered, “You did pretty well.” My heart raced tremendously. My cheeks flushed, and the rest of the day felt magical. It was at that moment that I accepted I had fallen in love with him. I stuffed my midterm results into my bag as a trophy and even started daydreaming of being his girlfriend. The two girls that I have gotten close to, Maddie and Stacy, noticed. They teased me every time I was caught staring at him. I prayed that something magical would happen or that a connection would form. That was until Stacy burst my bubbles, “You have to be a little more than plain for someone like Landon to notice you.” She said, “A little flirtatious but not too much, a little into him but not too much.” I hissed. My mom told me that she and Dad met at a pizza place and fell in love. I shared the story with Maddie and Stacy. Maddie had laughed, “Your mom definitely didn't tell you the whole story.” “Someone definitely seduced someone,” Stacy added. I didn't believe them. That evening, as mom made dinner, I lingered and probed casually. Told her it was for a school project on relationships. She was excited to talk about it. Said she was a project manager at a building across the pizza store. Every afternoon, she would see a man in a suit walking in at exactly 12: 20 to pick up pizza. He was the most handsome man she had ever laid her eyes on. Her eyes glittered as she told me about the new dress she had bought, how her makeup had been perfect. How she patronized the pizza store she had never been in before, just for my dad to notice her. I lay back in my bed that night, realizing that maybe love wasn't that magical fairytale that I grew up believing. It was something more. My mind drifted around. By morning, my eyes were heavy and my throat clammy, but my head was a lot clearer. I knew what I needed to do. When I arrived at school, I confessed to my two friends. Stacy looked at me and laughed, “You are beautiful, Anna, but we are talking about Landon here.” “He likes sophisticated girls like Emma,” Maddy added. I rolled my eyes, annoyed. The days that followed, my eyes trailed after Emma, the girl Landon had once dated. She was everything I wasn't. Confident, fashion killer, and eye-catching, unlike me. All I ever did was blend in. My mom's shopping sense didn't help matters. All she did was get me long skirts and oversized T-shirts because of her crazy obsession with Snow white. So every day after that, as I went through my closet, I just wanted to scream my lungs out. “Mom, can you give me your card?” I asked her one Saturday morning. She gave me the look, and I explained, “I need to get some actual clothes. No one wears these in school.” Unexpectedly, she didn't argue and just handed it. I wandered around the mall, not knowing what to pick. It was harder than I expected. The only things I was used to were floral skirts and pajamas. My hands lingered on several dresses, but I second-guessed how they would look on me. In the midst of my dilemma, someone unexpected walked inside. Asher. “Barbie came to shop.” He flicked my forehead as he brushed past me. I hissed in annoyance. He looked disastrous as always. Hair out of place. His shoes were a little too dusty, and his clothes needed more ironing. I ignored him and stuffed my head into picking out dresses. “Green isn't actually your color. It would look disastrous on you,” he said. I held the dress in my hand, too bitter to admit he was right, “Don't you have somewhere else to be?” “I do, but nothing gives me joy more than seeing you miserable.” “I'm not miserable.” “You are.” We went back and forth until I finally decided to ignore him. I picked out another dress, something I have seen a girl at school wear, and a backless dress. The mere act of holding it already repulsed me. The hall was finally quiet. Asher was gone. The best answer to a fool is actually keeping quiet. I huffed. How did he become one of the popular boys? As I bent to go through another rack. Something clattered on the floor. As I turned, Asher waved with an annoying smirk. Heaps of clothes lay on the floor. “What?” He picked up a black, mid-thigh-length dress with a slit that went up a bit. “Helping you shop. I know I have better taste.” I folded my hands across my chest, muttering up the most mean stare I could make, “I didn't ask for it.” He pulled the green dress from my hands and dragged me in front of a mirror with the dress across my skin. “You will look like a walking disaster in this dress.” He said. Even though I hated him, I silently agreed. He patted my back, “I actually picked out something that would match your body figure. Go try them on.” I didn't argue. I stepped into the dressing room with the bundle of dresses and randomly put on a white dress. The front lace was longer than the back. I loved it. The next few dresses I put on gave better results. How was Asher so good at this? He probably has a girlfriend he shops for all the time. I cringe at the thought. No decent girl would date Asher. Pushing the thoughts to the back of my mind, I tried on the rest of the dresses. “So?” Asher shot me a raised brow as I stepped out of the dressing room. I shrugged, “I'll manage them.” I couldn't admit these were perfect. He rolled his eyes and grabbed my hands, “Let's go shop for underwear.” I pulled my hand back, horrified by his words, “Are you crazy?” He smirked. “Barbie, if you want to seduce my best friend, you need to get rid of your grandma's underwear." I stared at him. Then I did what any reasonable person would do. I smacked him across the face.