The Bad Boys Girl (H.S) Rewritting

Chapter 2

After what happened Friday, I thought I should give my car a break by walking to school on Monday morning.  Jamie heard the memo and walked with me. We could use a good walk though, mainly me. They've been serving a lot of good food these past few weeks.

A part of me regretted walking because I didn't want to walk now that school was over.  I ran into Jamie, who smiled to tell me she scored an A on her exam.

My cheers go out to her. "Really? That's amazing!"

Thanks, how's it going?"

Scrunching my nose, I report that I earned a B. "Petty Mr. Beyer."

"Oh my god! Sarah, look!" Jamie exclaimed, pointing behind me. When I turned around, my eyes widened in horror at the sight in front of me.

I saw Harry Styles beating the living shite out of Jeff Harrington, the football team's captain.

Several jabs were delivered to Jeff by Harry, who was on one knee and pinned over Jeff in the face. He was trying, but it wasn't working to defend himself, as his hands frolicked everywhere.

Onlookers stood with their phones in one hand and another on their mouths, recording. Despite repeated attempts to stop Harry, he refused to budge. He could be expelled or jailed for beating this guy to a pulp. They taped Harry while he was doing it.

As my mind struggled to comprehend what I was doing, my feet moved from under me and I was running towards them. I try to shout, but my voice nearly falls hoarse. "Harry! Stop! You've done enough!" I scream.

"Just stand back.." He warns me, clenching his jaw, i didnt listen to what he said. 

Harry's green eyes were filled with rage, stoppping himself from punching jeff anymore.  The moment they locked eyes with me, they softened almost immediately. I was heard. "Is it even worth jeopardizing your school career?" I asked calmly. 

Grabbing hm by the shirt hem, he mumbles at the boy. "I want you to mess with me before you mess with any of my friends." He then pushes him away, and looks around to see everyone watching him, he hollers, "What the fuck is everyone looking at?" 

Perplexed by my colleague's behavior, I pierced my lips and grasped Harry's hand, pulling him back into the building. We walked away from the office and down by the gym. Harry finally rips his  hand from mine, and the two of us turn toward one another as he slides down the locker in defeat with his hands on his face.  He let a single tear fall from his eyes, and onto his gray shirt. Then another, and another, until soon, he was crying continuously, releasing the sadness and sorrow he had been holding inside for so long, and still he said not a word.

He was so vulnerable. It broke my heart to see him in that position. As it stood now, he didn't look much like a bad boy, more like a broken one.

I sat next to him, in silence, until I felt compelled to ask, "hey, you're crying.."

He flashes me a fake smile, before rolling his eyes, after a short moment he sighs,  "It's nothing." While his words tell one story, his eyes tell another.

Running my finger along his bruised knuckle, I reached out.

Then he clenches his fists, closes his wet eyes, and shakes his head in disappointment. "I don't know."

Did I listen? I did, of course. Honestly, this was not how I expected my day to go, but I'm sure he felt the same way.  After resting his head between his knees for a moment or two, he looked up at me.

Developing a crease between his eyebrows with a thought on his mind, he breathed, "Can you do something for me?"

Then I answered softly, "Sure, what's it?".

Before responding, he was hesitant.

He was broken in his voice as he stammered, "Can you hold me?" It would be an understatement to say that I was taken aback by his question.

Although I wanted to refuse, I didn't. I couldn't do it. He was pulled into me as I wrapped my arms around his large frame.

I could hear him sobbing into my sweatshirt as he came close to me.

I didn't care that he was ruining my favorite sweatshirt that my grandma had given me, I didn't care that he was the bad boy of the school. It didn't matter to me that he had a bad reputation. Despite all of this, I didn't give a damn.

I was only concerned about the fact that I was holding a broken boy to make him feel better in this moment.