Page 18 of Bad Boy
Why?
I’m not so sure, either.
Guess I feel a little protective over him. And I definitely don’t want him to get into trouble. He didn’t tell me what happened back in Detroit, but I think it was something bad.
Luckily, Dr. Benson brushes off Remi’s prickly attitude.
“Great.” He grabs a stack of papers from his desk and hands them to Remi with a genuine smile. With short chestnut hair, kind brown eyes, and a trendy suit, Dr. Benson is a student favorite, especially because he’s only thirty-two. “Here’s your syllabus, last week’s homework assignments I’d like you to get caught up on—which I’m sure Lincoln will help you with—and finally, a permission slip and payment link to sign up for the field trip to Pisgah National Forest this weekend. You won’t want to miss it. Saturday and Sunday are peak days for the leaves to showcase their fall colors. You’ll work in pairs to catalog the different types and create a leaf morphology chart. And those pairs will be sharing a cabin. It’s a really great experience.”
Then he turns to me, “You too, Lincoln. Please try to get an answer from your parents before tomorrow. It’s the deadline, and I’d really like you to go. I know you would enjoy it.”
He doesn’t know that this isn’t even Mom and Dad’s doing. I’ve never wanted to go on a weekend trip with my classmates, but now that Remi’s here, I think I do.
“Can we pick our own partners—who we share a cabin with?” I blurt.
Why did I just ask that out loud?It’s not even eight in the morning, and the class is filling up behind us.
He just smiles and informs us that we can fill out our choice of bunkmate on the form and any other special requests needed.
Remi takes the papers and grunts, “Thanks.” I side-eye him, unsure of what his problem with Dr. Benson is.
We shuffle down the far row by the window and take two seats halfway down. I turn to whisper to him before the final bell rings. “I’ll go if you go. It should be fun, and we could share a cabin together if you want. Dr. Benson is really nice,” I add, wanting them to get along.
He flicks his dark gaze to the front of the class, then back. “Yeah, okay. Guess he doesn’t seem so bad. And a weekend getaway with you, Linc? Sign me the fuck up. I’ll happily take the science right along with it.”
My lip twitches, and my smile blooms. “It’s goin’ to be beautiful, Remi. The leaves. Their colors.” I lean forward over the back of my chair and whisper more softly. “The pigments change as the leaves gradually lose chlorophyll, and like Dr. Benson said, this weekend is peak season. I’ve never been to Pisgah during that time, but I’ve seen photos. It’s spectacular.”
“Damn, Preppy. You got stars in your eyes,” he teases, gracing me with a crooked smile that I return just as the final bell rings. I turn around in my seat, continuing to smile as class starts and discussions of chlorophyll and hydrocarbons attempt and fail to push thoughts of this weekend out.
Because. . . All weekend in a mountain cabin with Remi?
I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate for the rest of the week.
CHAPTERNINE
REMI
After Study Hall—our last class before lunch—I tell Lincoln I’m going to the gym to see if anyone knows of a nearby boxing or MMA training facility. He looks at me with those intense-as-fuck eyes like he wants to object but doesn’t. Instead, he pushes his glasses up his nose and nods a few times. “Okay. I’ll save us a table?”
“Thanks, Preppy.” I lightly brush his hand with my own, unable to keep from touching him. “See you in a few.”
We split up, and I follow the brick path toward the back of campus, thumbs looped into the bottom straps of my backpack. The sharp scent of freshly-cut grass tickles my nose. Vibrant greens and warm fall colors bombard me from all directions. It’s almost an assault to the senses when I’m so assimilated to the harsh and unforgiving environment of city life and surrounded by concrete and steel.
I continue on, intending to introduce myself to the coaches and any student who might know about the underground fight leagues around here. But I have to feel it out first. Test the waters. Not only do I need to pay Mom back, but I’m itching to get back into the ring again. It’s been too long. I’ll just be more careful this time.
I push through the heavy metal doors, in a hurry to get back to lunch and to Lincoln, and jog down the steps to the locker rooms, where I know the coaches’ offices are.
When I round the corner, I see a middle-aged man with slicked-back dark hair starting to gray at the temples. He’s sitting behind a large mahogany desk, sorting files and eating his lunch. I knock at the open door before entering.
His head pops up immediately, greeting me with a polite smile. “Hello. How can I help you?”
I glance at the nameplate on his desk. “Hey, Coach De Luca. Name’s Remi. I’m not in any of your classes, but I wanted to talk for a second.”
“Of course, Remi. Come on in and shut the door.”
I do that and sit in front of his desk, dropping my tattered backpack on the floor by my boots.
“You’re Richard Keller’s grandson, aren’t you?”
