Page 6 of Bad Boy
I stiffen. I really, really hate that word. “She’s a hybrid moped, actually. Takes very little gas and has a low carbon footprint.”
“Oh, okay. Excuse me, Preppy.”
I wrinkle my nose at the nickname, not exactly sure if it’s a compliment, insult, or a general observation compared to hisgrungestyle.
“Preppy?”
“Yeah. You didn’t tell me your name,” he says, smirking. “I think it fits, though, no?” He licks his bottom lip, then bites it, eyeing me from the meticulous swoop of my hair down to my feet. “But I’m into it.”
I blush at his bold statement, unsure how to react. I like boys, but I’ve never had anyone flirt with me if that’s what this is. I’m not sure there’s even another gay person in Hunter Springs, so I deflect.
“Um. Sorry. I’m Lincoln Anderson. Your student guide and advisor. Are you ready to head to the office for registration and your tour?”
His deep chuckle makes me think I don’t fool him, but he just agrees, and we begin our climb up the steep brick steps leading to the main administration building, Caldwell Hall.
Every structure on campus is made out of traditional red brick and tall white Colonial columns, with a splash of natural wood and stone thrown in. The gentle slopes of the Appalachian mountains surround us with thick canopies and fall foliage. It really is a picturesque campus, but the people ruin it for me.
We check in with Ms. Nancy at the front office, and I let her know we’ll be in the extra computer room. Remi’s been quiet the whole time, hands stuffed into the black leather jacket he threw on over his Henley as we made our way up here.
And that’s where we are now—in the spare room next to the guidance counselor’s office, where students can go for private tutoring, to talk, or, in our case, register for classes halfway into the semester.
Remi is in front of the iMac, chewing on the end of his pen and flipping idly through the senior class choice brochure. He’s not reading anything or even really looking at the pictures.
“What classes do you think I should take, Mr. Advisor? Actually, what doyoutake? I think I’d like to be in those,” he declares with a slow, easy smile.
“Y-You’d like to be in mine?” I sputter in shock. “We met ten minutes ago. You don’t even know what classes I’m takin’. I could be in Interpretive Dance and Advanced Physics.”
“Are you?”
“No. But that’s beside the point. You don’t know meorwhat I’m into. You need to choose classes based on your own interests. I’m just here to help if you need or want it.”
“Okay. Well, I’m telling you, I need it. And I definitelywantit.” The way he emphasizes the word “want” has my abs tightening and heat filling my cheeks. “I’m feeling a little nervous about starting a new school, and I’d like to have a friendly face in my classes. So, can you sign me up for yours, or what, Preppy?”
CHAPTERFOUR
REMI
Iplanned to convince my student advisor to just sign off on today’s tasks, but now I’m trying to convince him to sign me up for his classes instead. Not only does he look super fucking smart and nice enough to help me, but something else is there too. Something intriguing about him, hiding under a perfect, preppy exterior.
Not to mention he is seriously hot as fuck, in an innocent, I-have-no-clue kind of way. Andfuck,his eyes. I’ve never seen anything like them in my entire life. One is a shocking emerald green, sparkling with life and happiness. And the other is nearly as dark as my own, swimming in shadows and depth.
They’re fucking hypnotizing.
“Why do you wanna be friends with me so bad?” he blurts out unexpectedly but with suspicion. His southern drawl is sexy and understated, which I’m not used to. Everyone speaks so. . .harshlyin Detroit. He sounds soft and musical, although I definitely don’t tell him that.
“Why not?” I counter.
“We probably have nothin’ in common.”
“Sure, we do. We both live in Hunter Springs, and we both go to Blue Ridge Prep. I’m sure there’s more; we just haven’t had a chance to explore that yet. Maybe we can now. Since we’ll have the same schedule.”
“Explore?”
“Yeah. Our budding friendship. Can’t you feel it? I think we’re gonna be best buds,” I tease because I already like making him flustered. He doesn’t disappoint as pink settles on his cheeks, making the light spattering of freckles disappear.
“You on Insta?” I ask, ready to make a new account and check this kid out later. I’m kind of fascinated.
“Um. No.”
