The Bad Boy's Good Girl

7. "Drunk? No, I Only Had ... Yeah, I'm Drunk."

NOT EDITED

We can do an album

Or we can do it viral.

Spread it like an STD you got back in high school.

I can run for president

Or, just run the block.

I can be a stoner, or...

Shit, I forgot.

(I Can Do Anything - 3OH!3)

"Are you ready to get drunk off our asses?" Is what I'm greeted the second I slide into Noel's car.

"Jesus, Noel," I roll my eyes, throwing my back pack to my feet. "It's literally seven A.M., and you're thinking of getting drunk?"

"Well, sure," she gushes. "The party starts at eight. I'll come over after school and raid your wardrobe."

"My wardrobe?" I scoff. "It sucks."

We continue making small talk until we reach Harbor High. I groan. There's already a black motorcycle in the parking lot.

"What's wrong?" Noel asks.

"Drew," I say, shaking my head and opening the door. "Thanks for the ride, Noe," I say, shutting it before pulling the straps of my back pack over my shoulders. 

An arm slings around my shoulders. I nearly scream, but bite my tongue when I see a familiar shade of blue.

"You scared the crap out of me," I mutter, as I attempt to open my locker.

"That's my job, Camera Girl," Drew says, a dark tone in his voice. I look up in surprise; he's always usually so ... bouncy.

His skin is pale, and his hair is messed up. Dark circles are under his eyes, making him look gaunt and, overall, terrifying.

I'm about to talk, but instead bite my lip. I don't really want to awaken the beast inside Drew. 

"You're going to Oliver's party, yeah?" Drew asks.

"I guess?" It comes out like a question. Clearing my throat, I say, "Yeah, I am."

The first bell rings. He smirks, dropping his arm.

"Wear something cute," he comments as he turns toward the exit.

"But Calculus is right there ... and ... oh, go to hell."

As I make my way to Calculus, I go over what had happened yesterday. Is that the reason Drew is acting so weird? I open the door, and settle in my seat.

"Drew? I've heard that name," my mother remarks as she looks Drew over. "And you're my daughter's ... boyfriend?"

"No," I cut in quickly. "He's just a friend."

Drew nods. "The best of friends - that's what we are. Right, best friend?"

"Totally," I laugh awkwardly.

"Well, then," my mom says. "I guess ... that's good, Dylan, you're making more friends."

"Mom!" I interject.

She chuckles, before saying, "I have a shift, I'll see you later, Dylan," she kisses my cheek. "It was nice meeting you, Drew."

"The pleasure's mine, Mrs. Scott," he smiles as my mother shakes his hand.

For a moment, my mother's strong facade falls as my father's surname is paired with her. The vulnerability can show straight through her warm brown eyes.