Little Miss Perfect

Chapter 1

It’s early in the morning and I’m already pissed off.

I was walking to class when some who-knows-who girl bumped into me and spilled her coffee on my newly bought Chanel cardigan. Ugh!

I shot her a glare and walked off while she tripped over her own apologies. I rushed into the girls’ comfort room and peeled off my cardigan. Great. My white sweater underneath had a stain too. Perfect. Just perfect.

I tossed the cardigan onto the sink and went to grab toilet paper—only to find the stall completely empty. I checked another. Empty. Another. Empty.

Seriously? Was this planned?!

Annoyed beyond belief, I stormed out of the comfort room with my cardigan pressed against my chest to hide the stain. I headed to the elevator to go to the second floor, but it was jam-packed, and there was no way I was taking the stairs. Stairs aren’t for me. Not today. Not ever.

So without thinking, I pushed my way through the crowd and headed to the nearest building I could find. Anywhere. As long as there was a working comfort room.

Now the stain was drying, and my arm was starting to ache from holding the cardigan in place. Great. One more thing to ruin my mood.

I wandered down the hallway, barely any students around, and the whole place reeked of paint. What building was this?

While scanning for a comfort room sign, my eyes landed on a door covered in paint stains.

Aha.

This must be it.

Of course students with paint on their hands would touch the door before washing up. Genius, right?

I smirked to myself.

Yeah. I know. I’m a genius.

I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, only to be greeted by an empty room filled with canvases, brushes, and half-dried paint splatters everywhere.

Huh?

If this isn’t the comfort room, then where is it?! The stain is drying, this is a crisis!

I was already stepping back to close the door when a voice came from behind me.

“Ah, look. It’s Hailey Hawkins. You lost or something? ’Cause last I checked, you’re not part of the Arts Department.”

Arts?

I’m in the Arts building?!

So that’s why there was paint on the door. Ugh!! Stupid Hailey!

I turned around and saw an oh-so-hot—

I MEANT NERD—pushing her glasses up with one finger as she raised an eyebrow at me, the kind of look that said, ‘Wrong building, princess.' She was wearing a black jacket and jeans paired with not-so-white shoes.

How dare she look at me like that!

“Excuse me? Who even are you? And why do you know me?” I demanded, crossing my arms.

She snorted. Actually snorted.

“Why do I know you? You’re Hailey Hawkins. Daughter of Antonio Hawkins. Heiress of Hawk Purse, purse that almost every girl in our campus uses, the walking billboard of your father’s brand. Don’t act clueless.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “Everyone knows you."

This woman!

“What? I’m just asking the basics,” I shot back. “And no, not everybody knows me.”

I leaned closer and whispered, “I asked a random hobo yesterday if he knew who he was talking to and he said he didn’t. The audacity of that dude.”

Then I smirked at her like I’d won the argument.

She laughed. A soft, quiet laugh and I swear to God, heat crept up my face.

She cleared her throat. “So… let’s put that aside. What are you doing in my building?”

Her building?!

“Arts building,” she corrected, like she’d just read my thoughts.

“I’m looking for the comfort room.” I clutched my cardigan tighter against my chest.

“What? Your department doesn’t have one?”

Ugh, is she stupid? Of course it does.

“I’m looking for tissues. The comfort room I went to ran out.”

“Because…?” She raised her eyebrow again and fixed her glasses.

“There’s a stain on my sweater.” I uncrossed my arms to show her the dried coffee splatter. “And it dried already because you took too much of my time!”

“Oh. Here.” She shrugged off her jacket and handed it to me. “Water won’t remove that, and your class probably started already.”

It smelled like paint, in a good way. And lavender. Probably her perfume.

I looked up, and that’s when I noticed her white shirt had paint stains all over it.

“What about your shirt…?” I asked, looking at her shirt up and down.

“It’s fine. I have extras. And it’s normal since I paint all day.”

She’s a painter?

I wonder what her paintings look like.

Are they as pretty as h—

I-I mean as ugly as her?

“Ah. Okay.”

“Thank you…?” she prompted, lifting her annoyingly perfect eyebrow.

“Huh? Thanks for what?” I blinked.

She snorted, like she couldn’t believe how dumb I was being.

“I meant you. Shouldn’t you say thank you? I let you borrow my jacket. Or did your parents never teach yo—”

“Ugh! Of course I know how to say thank you! I’m not stupid!” I cut her off.

“Then say it.”

She folded her arms.

“Say: ‘Thank you, Millie.’”

Millie?

That’s her name?

It fits her. Sounds... nerdy. In a good—

NO. In a nerdy way.

“Thank you…” I paused.

“Thank you, self, for finding this nerd and having her let me borrow her jacket. There. Done.” I smirked and slipped her jacket on.

“Right, thank you to me for saving your day,” she said with that sarcastic half-smile, “like a knight in shining armor rescuing her princess. Now, if you’re done blocking the way, can you please move so I can go in?”

Right. The room behind me. The one I opened.

I rolled my eyes and stepped aside.

“I’ll get going. I’m late to class. If not for that stupid girl earlier—” Just remembering the coffee incident made my blood boil again.

She walked past me into the studio. “Right. See ya when I see ya.”

She gave me a lazy salute and shut the door with that same smirk plastered on her face.

Ugh. She also makes my blood boil.

I headed back to my department, forcing myself not to stomp like a child. And then—

“HEY!”

I froze and turned around.

Millie stood halfway out the studio door, hand on the frame, glasses glinting under the hallway lights.

“Don’t forget to bring that jacket back! That’s my favorite!”

I rolled my eyes at her annoyingly beautiful voice—

Beautiful? No. Just annoying. Obviously.

Still… my lips tugged into a tiny smile. A what?!

Ugh! Snap out of it, Hailey!