Page 1 of Bad Boys Don’t Date Clumsy Girls

Chapter One

I know far too much about our office lady’s personal life. Such as, Mrs. Jensen’s youngest child graduated from Oak Grove High five years ago, but she continues to work in the office because she loves the students. And that her best friend of thirty-five years texts an inspirational quote to her every morning. Today’s quote, The one who falls and gets up is so much stronger than the one who never fell, was clearly written by someone who isn’t clumsy. Also, Mrs. Jensen and her husband recently redecorated their master bathroom.

“I brought the old set to school with you in mind, Ava, dear.” Mrs. Jensen hands me an oversized bath towel.

Wrapping it around my shivering body, I cringe when the mud soaks into the plushy lavender.

As she digs through lost and found to see if there is anything I can change into, I silently scold myself for thinking it was a good idea to jog across the rain-slicked parking lot in the first place. Sure, the first bell had rung, and I didn’t want to be late, but in my seventeen years, have I ever not ended up with a skinned knee when running? What was I thinking?

Despite being swaddled in a towel, I’m still dripping mud on the polished floor. Rain, plus dirt, equals mud puddles. And where there’s a mud puddle, my foot will surely find it and slip in it. Bonus points today for falling face first and drenching my hair too.

As luck would have it, Dylan Scott, the school’s notorious “bad boy,” is leaning against the tall front counter, smirking at me. I’m studiously ignoring him and trying not to think what a great story this will make for him to share with friends later.

“Ava, dear,” the compassionate office lady croons. “I have these gym sweats you can wear.” She holds up a tattered pair of blue sweatpants that look at least two sizes too big. I gag a little at the thought of them coming off the body of a sweaty boy who probably farted and scratched himself while wearing them.

“I’m afraid you’ve run us out of shirts.” Her face is all droopy with apology. “The only thing I can offer you is this one. I promise it’s been laundered. Looks like it’ll fit, though.”

I bite my bottom lip to hold in the strange mewling sound that wants to escape. “That’s my shirt.”

Dylan barks out a laugh and Mrs. Jensen glowers at him. He shrugs and holds out a hand to me. “Can you blame me?”

I step forward to snatch the clothes from Mrs. Jensen. The shirt used to be my favorite. It’s a flirty little button-up with cap sleeves. The cut makes me look like I have more of a figure than I do. But it’s as white as a fresh snowfall. Or it was until the spaghetti lunch incident. I must have left it in the bathroom after I changed that day.

Mrs. Jensen’s smile is too sympathetic. It makes me feel like such an idiot. And Dylan Scott smirking at me doesn’t help.

She tsks. “I thought you always had a change of clothing with you, dear.”

“Yesterday, I…” I see Dylan’s brows arch and shift gears. “It’s been a rough week.”

Dylan chuckles.

Kill. Me. Now.

He turns toward me, leaning against the counter, and crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you get frequent flier miles for this? Because it sounds like you are a regular around here.”

Once again, I ignore him. I’m sure he can’t see my pink cheeks under the rapidly hardening mud.

“I think you’ve probably ruined this shirt as well,” Mrs. Jensen says about my mud-splattered blouse. “But the jeans will come clean. If you want to bring it all back to me, I’ll ask the custodians to throw it in with their laundry.”

I’m worried Dylan will end up with the hiccups from laughing so hard. I hope he chokes. “That’s okay, Mrs. J. I’ll wash it all and bring it back. Do you have a plastic bag, maybe?”

“Sure, dear.”

“And a mop.” I look down at the starburst of mud around my feet.

“Don’t worry about that, Ava. I’ll ask Lionel to get it.” She hands me a wastebasket liner that I can stuff the sodden clothes into after I change. “And here is your late pass, too.”

The door to the principal’s office swings open and Principal Crowder steps out. She takes one look at me, and her expression softens with pity. “Oh, Ava. I thought about you this morning when I saw how hard it was raining. Did you have to walk?”

Dylan’s expression is alive with interest. Like he’s watching a grand slam tennis match. I wish I had popcorn to give him. Not.

“No, I got a ride with my brother. You know me.” I shrug. “I just slipped.”

“With Joel graduating, I worry what you will do next year. I hope you’ll be able to drive yourself by then.” She gives me one last commiserating look before turning to Dylan. Her expression hardens and now it’s my turn to watch with interest. She’s never used that expression on me.

“Mr. Scott, it seems we have rules to define.”

He pushes off the counter and shoves his hands into his pockets, looking completely unconcerned with her ire.

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