Sins Of Her Venom
Chapter 36: Her Hair

Chapter 36: Her Hair

- Kathrine Andrews: (Song of the Chapter: Okay by Chase Atlantic)

Standing in my room, I smoothed out my shirt as I stared into the mirror. A small smile tugged at my lips as yesterday’s events replayed in my mind.

Giving Glyndon a ride to her house had been... interesting. She had clung to my waist so tightly, as though letting go would be the end of the world.

When we finally reached her house, I helped her hop off the bike, but she didn’t even spare me a glance or a word of thanks.

Instead, she bolted to her front door like she couldn’t get away fast enough, completely forgetting that her wallet and phone were still in my possession.

After letting out an amused sigh, I followed her, knocking on the door. Her maid had answered, and I handed over her belongings.

That was the practical thing to do, of course, but the memory of her panicked, flustered face and her lips on mine lingered.

She kissed me.

It wasn’t something I imagined—it happened.

Even now, I wasn’t entirely sure how to process it. Was it panic? Desire? Or something in between? Either way, the memory of it made me smirk.

Shaking off the thoughts, I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs.

My mom was standing at the stove, flipping pancakes, while my dad sat at the table with a steaming cup of coffee and his tablet in hand.

My twin brother, Nick was scarfing down his breakfast like he hadn’t eaten in days.

My older brother Kai is nowhere to be seen, probably busy with his college.

"Morning," I said, plopping down on a stool by the counter.

"Morning, sweetheart," my mom replied, placing a plate of pancakes in front of me. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," I lied with a grin, taking the syrup bottle and pouring it generously.

"Good," my dad said, not looking up from his tablet. "Don’t forget to fill up your gas, I transferred you the money."

I smiled. "Got it, Thanks dad."

My mom walked toward me, tapping my plate. "And don’t forget to eat. You’re always rushing out the door."

I gave her a mock salute. "Yes, ma’am."

-

Finishing breakfast quickly, I headed to the garage. My motorcycle was waiting for me, gleaming in the morning light.

Swinging my leg over the seat, I revved the engine and pulled out onto the street, the wind brushing past me as I made my way to school.

Once there, I parked in the lot and headed to class. The hallways were quieter than usual, and I couldn’t spot any of my new friends.

When I got to my usual spot in French class, I slid into my seat in the second row and pulled out my phone to check our group chat, asking them why they aren’t at school.

Emma’s mom had to go to the hospital, which is why Emma couldn’t leave her side today.

Lily got some serious period cramps and decided it would be better to stay home.

The guys either didn’t have classes this morning or decided they’d rather sleep in.

None of it was planned—they just all happened to miss school on the same day.

I sighed, typing back a quick reply: Hope everything’s okay. I’m here holding it down. Don’t leave me hanging tomorrow.

It was odd not having any of them around even though we have only known each other for a short period of time.

As much as I hate being here without them, skipping school wasn’t an option for me.

Perfect attendance mattered too much to let a quiet day mess it up.

As the teacher walked into the room and began writing on the board, I settled into my seat and prepared for the lesson.

French class wasn’t my favorite, but at least it was predictable.

The teacher was droning on about French verb conjugations. "Now, remember class, être, and avoir are the auxiliary verbs you’ll need for the past tense. For instance, J’ai mangé means ’I have eaten.’ Repeat after me: J’ai mangé."

The class echoed her words, and I was laser-focused, scribbling notes as quickly as I could.

"And for movement verbs," the teacher continued, "we use être. For example, Je suis allé means ’I went.’ Can anyone give me an example using être?"

My hand twitched, wanting to volunteer to answer, but then I felt it—a sharp tug at the back of my head.

I gasped softly, my scalp stinging as my head was pulled back. I hated when people touched my hair—hated it.

Before I could even turn around to see who it was, I heard his voice.

"You know," Alex drawled, his voice dripping with smugness, "for a lesbian, you have good thighs."

I clenched my jaw, rolling my eyes as I tried to yank my hair free from his grip. But he tightened his hand, making my scalp ache even more.

"Let go of my fucking hair, Alex," I hissed through gritted teeth, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t attract the teacher’s attention.

But he didn’t. Instead, he tugged harder, his laugh low and mocking.

I wanted to spin around and punch him so badly it burned, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Alex was the principal’s nephew. He had money, connections, and enough arrogance to know he could get away with anything.

One false move from me, and his family would make my life a living hell.

For a moment, I felt completely helpless. My nails dug into my palms as I tried to keep calm, but then I heard her voice.

"Let go of her fucking hair, Alex," Glyndon snapped, her tone low but deadly.

It wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to make Alex pause.

Suddenly, my hair was free, and I straightened in my seat, rubbing my scalp as I refused to turn around.

I could feel Glyndon’s presence behind me, though, and I could hear the sharp intake of Alex’s breath.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Glyn?" Alex hissed, his voice low and angry. "Why are you defending the lesbo?"

The air seemed to be still for a second. Even without looking, I could sense the shift in Glyndon’s demeanor, like she hadn’t even realized what she was doing until he called her out on it.

"Well, I don’t want you holding any girl’s hair," she replied, her voice even but slightly rushed. "And what the hell do you mean she has good thighs? Why are you even staring at her thighs?"

Her excuse was a mess, her voice betraying her discomfort. She was lying, and it was so obvious to me, but not to him.

Alex chuckled. "Oh, you’re jealous, babe. I appreciate that."

I didn’t need to turn around to know he was probably scooting closer to her, wrapping an arm around her like the overconfident jerk he was.

"I don’t find her attractive," he said. "She’s not my type. You’re the only girl that’s my type. I love you."

Glyndon didn’t say anything at first, and for a second, I wondered if she was regretting stepping in. Then she hummed lightly, her voice calm. "Don’t touch her hair again. Ever."

"Yes, ma’am," Alex replied, laughing softly. "Won’t touch any girl’s hair but yours."

I heard him plant a kiss on her cheek, and that was that. He probably thought the conversation was over.

But me?

A smirk crept onto my face as my fingers tapped against my notebook.

Glyndon wasn’t jealous—not of me, anyway. Her voice, her words, her rushed excuses—they all told a different story.

She was possessive. Of me.

And she didn’t even realize it.

Excitement bubbled under my skin. This was going to be fun.

The teacher cleared her throat, gaining the class’s attention again. "Alright, class, listen up. I have some exciting news," she announced, her smile broad. "Next week, we’ll be organizing a trip to Paris—yes, Paris, the City of Light and Love."

The room erupted in murmurs and gasps of excitement as students exchanged looks.

"Now, before you all get too excited," the teacher continued, "let me explain. This is part of an immersive learning experience. We’ll be visiting historical landmarks, attending cultural events, and practicing French with native speakers. This will give you a chance to sharpen your skills in real-life scenarios."

A hand shot up near the back of the class. "When is the trip, Madame Dupont?"

"It will take place in four weeks, during spring break," the teacher answered. "We’ll stay for a week, and there’s an itinerary filled with both educational activities and free time to explore the city."

Another student chimed in, "Will we be staying in a hotel? And will there be chaperones?"

"Yes, of course," the teacher replied, nodding. "We’ll be staying at a well-reviewed student-friendly hotel in the heart of Paris. And yes, there will be multiple chaperones, including myself and two other teachers."

"How much will it cost?" another voice asked.

"Good question," Madame Dupont said, scanning the room. "The cost is covered by the school. This means you won’t have to worry about your flights, accommodation, meals, and activity fees."

Students started whispering again,

I didn’t want to go. Paris sounded like a hassle. I didn’t care about "immersive learning" or the City of Light.

But credit was credit, and I wasn’t going to risk losing out just because I’d rather stay home. So, I sighed and decided I’d go.

That’s when I heard Alex’s voice, loud and obnoxious as always.

"Babe, we’re going to Paris," he said, turning to Glyndon with a grin.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see her reaction.

She barely even looked at him, just giving a nonchalant hum in response, like she couldn’t care less.

Is he blind? I thought to myself. Does he not see how uninterested she is in him? But then again, that wasn’t my business.

I leaned back in my chair, smirking. I guess we’re going to Paris.

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