Page 40 of The Bad Boy Rule

A series of whoops and whistles ring out around the room, and even I can’t help but grin.

The energy is already charged off the fucking charts, and it’s not even game day yet.

“Get suited up, and I’ll see you on the ice,” Coach says before turning and walking out of the locker room.

I turn to my locker to grab my gloves but first check the notifications on my phone.

I’m surprised as fuck when I see a text from Golden Girl on the screen. It’s been a few days since the fundraiser event, and it’s been oddly quiet. She didn’t show up to our ice time on Tuesday. Part of me wanted to text her and ask her if she’d had enough of our little game, but I figured if that was the case, she’d already be texting me.

Nah, sweet, innocent little Lennon has a fire, and she’s not backing down. She’s not folding.

And there’s also the fact that I shouldn’t be worried about what she’s doing in the first place. It shouldn’t be something that even crosses my mind, yet it has, more times than I can count since I last saw her.

Obviously, because if she… I dunno, got hit by a car or something, then my revenge plan would go down the drain, so I’m going with morbid curiosity.

Lennon: Are you free in… two weeks? I have another event that I need you to come to.

Saint: Depends.

Lennon: On what?

Saint: Do I have to wear that fucking tie?

Lennon: Well, it’s a fundraising gala for my father’s company, so yes, the tie isn’t optional.

Saint: I’m out.

Lennon: Can you not be a pain in my ass for like five seconds? What happened to a deal is a deal??

Saint: Maybe I changed my mind.

I’m bullshitting her just to get her worked up, my favorite extracurricular activity. Well, besides fucking. I might be a dick, but I keep my word.

Lennon: Please do not make me kill you. I don’t think I’ll survive prison.

Saint: Nah, you’re way too high maintenance. Plus, that orange jumpsuit is going to make you look like a fucking traffic cone with your hair.

Lennon: You’re such a dick.

Saint: *shrug emoji* yet… you’re still here.

Lennon: Not by choice. Can you make the event or not? I have to get to class.

Saint: Ask me nicely, and I’ll be your arm candy, Golden Girl.

Bouncing dots appear on the screen, then disappear before reappearing again.

Clearly, she’s typing something, then deleting, and I can’t stop the shit-eating grin on my lips.

Lennon: Will you come to the charity gala, Saint? I will forever be in your debt oh great one.

Saint: You’re missing one important thing.

I can just imagine her face right now, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing, smoke nearly coming out of her ears as she plots a thousand ways to off me.

Fuck, I’m getting a hard-on in full uniform right now.

Lennon: What is that?

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