Mira was walking toward the library, her head down, her shoulders hunched, her glasses slipping down her nose for the hundredth time. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun that looked like it was about to fall apart. She was wearing a plain sweater, too big for her, that hid whatever figure she might have. Her jeans were old and faded, the kind you bought from a discount store and wore until they fell apart.
Noah's lips curved into a slow, cruel smile.
Maybe he would relieve himself with this one. She was ugly, sure. Plain. Forgettable. The kind of girl you passed in the hallway without noticing. But she had been crushing on him for months. He had seen the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't watching. The way her cheeks flushed when he said her name. The way she stuttered and stumbled over her words whenever he was near.
She would be easy. So easy.
"Mira!" he called out, his voice friendly, warm, inviting.
