The Bad Boy Kissed Me *ON HOLD*

Detention

The principal's laughing at me. He's always been a cool guy. Out of the four principals here, he's the youngest—maybe mid-thirties, and he's easy on the eyes. Not that I ever looked. Kidding. I'm a lonely, hormonal girl—I look at every hot guy.

It's clear, though, that Mr. Juarez has never noticed me because he had to look up my student profile to make sure I was in the grade he was over.

After realizing I was indeed a student he was in charge of and listening to Mrs. Anderson shout out my disrespectful behavior, the man couldn't stop laughing. His hazel eyes twinkle, and I swear he wiped away a tear a few seconds ago.

Turns out Mrs. Anderson has embarrassed others in the middle of class, and Mr. Juarez isn't a fan of her bullying.

"I can't let you off completely, Miss Alvarez," he tells me, calming himself though he continues smiling. "It's expected of me to say disrespecting teachers is prohibited. Typically, a suspension is in order for your behavior. But you have a clean record and decent grades. I think a single after-school detention is acceptable."

Breathing out, I nod that I have no arguments. I've heard that in-school suspension can be terrifying. One time, a kid chased a pregnant substitute with a pair of scissors. Poor thing. "Thank you, Mr. Juarez. I promise I won't let my emotions get the better of me again."

"I believe you." He leans back, rubbing his chin. "And I can't be too upset with anyone with such flattering things to say about my nephew."

My eyes nearly pop out of my freaking skull. "Gabe's your nephew?"

"He's my late sister's son, yes. He moved in with his father and stepmother last year."

My embarrassment stutters and vanishes. "I didn't know. My condolences, Mr. Juarez."

"Thank you. And I don't expect anyone knows—Gabe's not the chatty type." He gestures for me to stand. "Now head to class and perhaps mull over your comments inside your head before speaking aloud. I'll see you after school."

"It's a date," I say, shaking my head and lowering it to hide my mortified expression. "I mean, I'll see you then."

I barely hear his chuckle before he says, "Off you go."

Not looking back, I bolt, eager to get away. I truly hope he and Gabe aren't close. If I'm lucky, Gabe will forget about my little show with the next fight or the next girl he's deemed worthy of his attention.

Oh, Jesus Christ!

Gabe is sitting right outside Mr. Juarez's office, across the hall from a boy I don't recognize. The boy is clutching his bleeding nose, but Gabe wears a slight smirk as he watches the kid he probably beat up.

Heat at my back alerts me to Mr. Juarez's presence. "Next," he says, muttering a curse under his breath that I can't quite make out. "Gabe, what are you doing here?"

Those hazel eyes slide over to his uncle. Since he's right behind me, he spots me first. I know my face must be so red.

His lack of reaction to my blush is welcome when he focuses on his uncle. His voice is one of my favorite things in the world. It's deep and hypnotic. I've heard him sound bored, where the timbre of his voice almost creates a constant low hum. I've listened to angry, harsh, gravelly tones as he insults someone before he drives his fist into their face. I've heard him switch to a sexy, almost sleepy, raspy-sounding tone. I think only his conquests and I have experienced it because the only time he uses the panty-soaking tone is when he's arriving at his home with a girl or sending her off. He sounds angry again when he's fucking her. I know because I'm stubborn and refuse to close my window even though Gabe leaves his window open, too. Clearly, he doesn't mind if anyone can hear him rockin' a girl's world, so I'm not cutting off my night breeze.