Resting upon it was a small folded up piece of paper. Sam frowned, ‘What the hell?’ ‘The blue flowers are called ‘borage’, the white ones are called ‘edelweiss’ I think, and the rest is thyme,’ Virgil informed her helpfully. ‘But what does it all mean?’ Sam scrutinized the flowers as Miranda removed the card, ‘I mean, it’s Grey, it has to have a hidden message.’ ‘All I know,’ Virgil replied, ‘is that flowers stand for certain things, like how roses mean ‘love’ and all that.’ ‘So what do these flowers symbolize?’ Sam asked. Miranda read the card: Don’t be afraid. She closed her eyes, bringing the note to her lips and smiling. Thank you, Grey. Virgil brought the car around to the faculty parking lot. ‘Courage.’ The girls braced for the worst. It wasn’t enough. ‘I don’t care who they are or whatever ridiculous politically correct bullshit policies you choose to run this piss-pot of a school with, I want their heads!’ Miranda and Sam exchanged a grimace, the voices were audible from. As she types, she leans forward anxiously, her knees kissing. As she reads, she relaxes backwards, knees parting to welcome the reply; eyes chasing the text.Aria watches the slither of pink underwear pinched between her companion's thighs appear and disappear in hypnotic repetition. She wonders how wet it is under there, and how much wetter it must be getting as each incoming message is enjoyed. She wonders which of them craves getting off more.The young woman jostles in her seat, fighting the heat rising beneath her skin. She shoots a burst of glances around the carriage—seemingly conscious she's becoming publicly aroused. Tense, Aria's hands clasp in a ball over the front of her skirt, pressing down towards the warmth. She imagines the young woman's thighs gliding past her ears and her face colliding with that pink stripe. With a stiffened tongue, she stuffs the flimsy material inside her.The taste of blood punctures Aria's reverie. Apparently, she was biting her a little too.
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