Page 17 of Bad Boy
I adjust the strap of my bag and bite my lip as I take him in, thinking about how we made out at the arcade yesterday. If I think about it too hard, I’llgethard, which cannot happen now.
He slings his backpack over his shoulder and slams his door shut, shaking his head and attempting to brush the unruly strands away from his forehead. His black hair is short on the sides but long and messy on top. And his jaw is so sharp, so angled, it looks cut from stone.
His uniform fits him impeccably—the school blazer stretches tightly across his broad shoulders, and his forest green and navy blue plaid pants are definitely tailored professionally. He’s wearing the same combat boots as yesterday, and his silver wallet chain hangs from his front belt loop to his back pocket. Rings and the eyebrow stud complete the punk rock vibe, and I don’t think anyone in the history of the academy has ever looked so freakin’ good in this uniform. Although I can’t help but wonder how many dress codes he’s violating. I really hope he doesn’t get detention.
As Remi approaches, he smiles wide, and I give him a half-grin and an awkward little wave in return. The girls will be into him for sure. My stomach plummets at the thought. He said he likes them, too.
I heard a few whispers about the new kid as people walked by this morning. Word is that Remi is an illegal street fighter who killed a guy at his old school—with his bare hands—and that’s why he had to move all the way to North Carolina. I don’t believe it. Not with how easygoing he seems to be and how fun and completely charismatic he is. There’s just no way. Gossip can really get out of hand around here.
“Looking good in that uniform, Preppy,” Remi says as he stops right in front of me. The tips of his combat boots touch my loafers, and I stare down at them.
I don’t know why I feel shy after yesterday, but I do. “Good mornin’.”
I nudge my glasses up and anxiously clutch at the strap across my chest as I flick my gaze to meet his again. “The first bell’s about to ring. We can’t be late. Follow me.” I turn on my heel and scurry away, listening to his deep chuckle as he stomps down the path behind me.
He catches up in no time, slinging a heavy arm around my shoulder, just like he did yesterday. Except we’re at school now. I dart a nervous glance around the front entrance to Caldwell Hall. A few people take notice of us and stare, but most of the kids are probably at their lockers, sorting their books for the day like I should be doing.
I allow myself to lean into his warm, strong body for a moment, pulling from his strength and not worrying about the eyes on us.
We’re just two guy friends.
Who kissed yesterday.
When we get to the front double doors, Remi takes his arm off me, and I instantly miss the weight and reassuring contact. But I don’t dare ask him to place it back; we’re about to walk into the lion’s den.
He pushes the heavy metal door in and stretches his arm out, bracing it open. I slip in first, Remi right behind me.
The entire place goes silent, like someone pressed pause on a TV. I freeze as well, like a deer in headlights, unable to look away from an inevitable impact.
Remi strolls to my side, confident as always. He’s standing so close our hands graze, and his middle finger traces a line down the center of my palm. I try not to shiver.
I turn my head to the side, giving him a questioning stare even though we have quite the audience.
What the heck do we do now?
I hope my slightly panicking eyes convey this question as he looks back and forth between them. I don’t like this much attention on me.Ever.
Remi must make a decision because he faces the crowd of gawking bystanders and clears his throat, loudly projecting his deep voice. “Blue Ridge! Sup, my peeps? Name’s Remington Michaels. But if you don’t wanna be an asshole, just call me Remi.” And then he gives them his megawatt smile.
That seems to snap everyone back into motion, and a few of the guys and girls that aren’t jerks to me come over and introduce themselves, being surprisingly welcoming. To Remi. Not me. They still ignore me.
However, I listen to their conversations, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the dynamic that’s developing here. The guys want to be him, and the girls want to date him.
These realizations make me cringe, but at least everyone automatically respects him. Partly because they might be afraid, or at least intimidated, and partly because he’s actually a Keller by blood. And that is abigfamily name around here. Not to mention Remi’s style, charisma, and the way he carries himself so smoothly and confidently—it just draws people in.
I wish I could do that.
A few of my normal tormentors watch with rapt attention, making me nervous. I quickly look away, focusing back on the conversation in front of me as Remi deflects questions like a seasoned pro, excusing us so we can make our first class on time. We’ll have to skip our lockers this morning because the first bell rings just then, and we need to make it to the science building in five minutes.
“Let’s go,” I mumble as we finally leave the group of overzealous sycophants and head for the back exit. “If you remember from yesterday, it takes approximately three and a half minutes to make it to Holston Hall from here, and that’s if we walk briskly and don’t stop. Environmental Science isn’t too hard, and I’ll help you, of course, but Dr. Benson hates it when anyone shows up late.”
Remi just chuckles, “Got it. Brisk pace.” We power walk side-by-side, making it to class well before the two-minute warning bell.
“Ah, you must be our new student. Remington Michaels?” Dr. Benson eyes him up and down. Not in an unkind way—more curiously—but Remi stiffens nonetheless.
“Yeah. I am,” he replies tersely, gripping the straps of his backpack until his knuckles go white. I really hope Remi doesn’t start out on the wrong foot. Dr. Benson is a great teacher, and I’m not sure why Remi’s acting so defensive around him.
But I just stand here with him anyway.
