Novel & Cerita The Perks Of Being A Wallflower

“Are we really arguing about wallflowers, for God’s sake? Do you know how much my time is worth?” Jorel stood, looking slightly dazed, pointing both index fingers at me as if mentally cataloging his to-do list. “Marry Olivia Stick, double my allowance, sleep with as many girls as I can for extra cash, and I get to sleep with the wallflower… but I can’t like her. Because squid’s better than wallflower.” “Get out!” I barked.

When he ran, it wasn’t rushed— it was controlled, like he already knew he was the best on the field. My heart skipped. Actually skipped. A sharp, sudden jolt in my chest. And then— He looked up. Straight at me and gave a slow deliberate wink. My stomach dropped. Heat flooded my face instantly. I looked away so fast my neck strained, my fingers tightening around my bag strap. What the hell— I swallowed hard, my pulse racing, my ears ringing faintly. “Fuck…” I whispered under my breath. Now I understood. Why the girls were blushing. Why they couldn’t look away.

Tears were streaming down her face and she was desperately begging for mercy. Lucas ignored her pleas and went through the investigation report his assistant provided. The report detailed all of Freya’s activities over the last five years. His anger grew with every page he flipped. This entire time, Freya had never gotten pregnant. The supposed gambling-addicted parents who took her money never existed either. After receiving the hush money from Lucas, she went on a reckless shopping spree and spent every last cent. By that point, she had gotten used to a life of luxury and could not fathom going back to a life steeped in poverty.

My phone buzzed with a new message from the mentor, and I glanced down. Susanna Jackson's flirty voice played in my head again. "Come on, no more kisses. You'll be in hot water if your girlfriend walks in on this. "Oh, that's right, she's clueless. You slipped me her wedding draft. I'm asking for a carbon copy of her dream day, and she's over the moon thinking we're on the same wavelength. It's almost cute how naive she is."

Elena pushed open the door to the office hall, a hush fell over the room. The soft hum of fluorescent lights and the gentle rustle of papers suddenly seemed amplified as all eyes turned to her. Two days ago, Elena's life turned from grass to grace when her heiress status was revealed at the party, splashing her face across news headlines and billboards. Elena's heels clicked on the floor as she approached the receptionist's desk. Her gaze swept the room, meeting the stares of the office staff. A gentle hum of whisper rustled through the office, like a soft breeze stirring leaves.

"That chubby kid thinks he's all that just because he comes from a rich family. He doesn't know yet that the male lead is actually Wesley Hunter, the wealthiest and most influential person in all of Centrae! "And when he finds out that the female lead, Hilary Jameson, and her daughter, Sandy Hunter, got bullied like this, he is going to bankrupt the Sterlings!" I cocked my eyebrow when I read the comments, silently taking note of the information given. When I arrived at Theo's preschool, I saw him standing in the corner, silent, his head down. A beautiful young woman was carrying a little girl in her arms, not too far away, comforting her quietly. She had to be Hilary, the main female lead t

"I just… like her… so much… and she's making it so difficult to be together. Like, I just don't get why it's impossible to tell people about us!" "There's something you need to realize about Isa," David said. "I've learned that she's the hardworking type. Everyone knows that. But she's also the type to never take something that she didn't work for. She's also hyper-aware of how she appears to other people and what they think about her. She's a little too obsessed with image, if you ask me." I frowned and stared down into my nearly-empty fourth glass. "Image… status… it's all made up. I don't care about any of that."

Eliza's POV; I stare curiously at my computer's screen as the cool night's breeze blows into my partly lit room through my window. I inhale in pleasure as it cools off my skin. I do want to be beautiful. I want to make an impact. I want to prove everybody wrong, and storm the world. I want to make fame at a rate that will shock my family. However, is this pop-up legit? Will it answer all my questions and grant my wishes?

My company let employees clock paid hours while petting the office cats, take unlimited vacation, and skip the time clock altogether. For a while, people called us a dream company. Then one of my employees posted online and accused the whole thing of being a kindness trap. He filmed the office as if it were paradise, but the caption told a different story: [Don't envy us. All of this was bought with our low pay and our youth.] The post went viral, and overnight, I became the fake-nice boss who bled his employees dry behind a mask of small kindnesses. The entire internet told my employees to run. Fine. I let them. I rolled out a new policy. Effective immediately, every flexible benefit

I wish. If I had to describe myself—and trust me, I’ve had practice—it goes like this: for every breathtaking beauty, there’s always a girl with wild red curls, an awkward grin, and a face full of misplaced optimism. That’s me. The textbook definition of a wallflower. Your average, unremarkable high school nobody.