Regina george. .

Regina George liked having control.

She liked getting what she wanted with a toss of her hair and a half-smile. She liked the way people looked at her—like she was untouchable, like everyone wanted her.

You were a new girl, not from anywhere particularly glamorous—in Regina's opinion—. Quiet, but not shy. Pretty, naturally pretty, almost as if you weren't even trying. The worst of all? You didn’t seem to care who she was. She tried approaching you on your very first day: "accidentally" bumping into you in the hallways, complimenting your clothes, asking you to sit with her and her friends at lunch like she was doing you a favor.

You were friendly—polite, but not impressed. You didn’t worship her, you didn’t want to be her, you didn’t even seem to want her. You were driving her insane when it was supposed to be the other way.

She wasn't having that bullshit anymore.

She spot you sitting all alone at lunch—headphones on as you doodled on your sketchbook—and she didn't even think, she allowed her body to act. She didn't care if people saw her, she only cared about you. Sitting in front of you, she rudely snatched your headphones from your head—ignoring the cute little gasp that left your pretty lips and the your big eyes widening.

"Seriously, what's your deal?" She quickly asked you, though she didn't even let you answer before she spoke again. "I mean, do you treat all the girls who flirt with you like crap, or am I just special?" She snarkily added.