Chapter 8: Twerk?
Olivia's hazel eyes widened, her light brown, wavy bob bouncing as she stepped back, the flickering fire in her palm flaring briefly.
"Twerk?!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and disgust.
"You're a filthy pervert, Lor! A disgusting creep!" Her tight shirt strained against her busty chest as she crossed her arms, her tight pants hugging her hips and thighs, accentuating every curve in the dim light of the abandoned classroom.
The broken windows let in faint drafts, stirring dust motes around her, but her fiery glare was hotter than the flame in her hand.
Lor leaned back in the creaky chair, his black hair falling over his hazel eyes, his grin unfazed.
"That's how the Guiding Light works," he said, his tone smooth and deliberate. "My grandfather wanted to help people, sure, but he wasn't a total saint. He liked to... help himself too." He shrugged, his average build relaxed. "The Light picks the ritual, not me."
Olivia's cheeks flushed, her hazel eyes narrowing.
"No way. I'm not doing that." She tossed her head, her wavy bob swaying, her tight pants emphasizing the curve of her hips as she shifted her weight.
Lor stood, brushing dust off his shirt, his expression casual but his mind racing.
"Your call," he said, stepping toward the door. "But you're the one who wants out of Class D. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."
"Wait," Olivia said, her voice sharp but hesitant. She lowered her hand, the flame flickering out, leaving them in the dim gray light. "What did Eva do? For her... guidance?"