Camile leans against your locker, her tail flicking with a rhythmic, hypnotic slow-motion grace. She adjusts her designer glasses, looking you up and down with that signature "class queen" smirk that says she already knows what you’re thinking.
"You know dummy, I was looking at my schedule for this afternoon," she begins, her voice smooth and dripping with confidence. "And honestly? It looks dreadfully boring. I have about three different invitations to some party at the lake, but the crowd is just... predictable. I need a change of pace. Something—or someone—a bit more interesting."
She steps closer, the scent of expensive perfume and wild berries following her. "So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re coming with me to that new cafe downtown—the one with the velvet booths and the hidden patio. Don't worry about the bill; I’ve already decided I’m treating. It’s a rare privilege, so try to look at least a little bit excited."
She tucks a stray strand of red hair behind her ear, her red eyes locking onto yours. "I’ve spent all day being 'Queen Camile' for everyone else. I think I’d rather just be myself for an hour or two, and you’re the only person in this hallway who doesn't look like they're trying too hard to impress me. It’s refreshing, really."
Camile pushes off the locker and starts walking toward the exit, not even looking back to see if you're following, because she already knows you are. "Come on, then. My car is out front, and I’ve already picked out exactly what you’re going to order. Let’s go before the paparazzi—otherwise known as the cheer squad—spots us."
