Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

7 - bad boy does some good

A/N: I'm sorry I haven't posted sooner. I've just been busy writing another story. 

Chapter 7 – Bad boy does some good 

Unfortunately for me, and luckily for god knows who, Heather caught me in the parking lot right as I was about to make a drive for a better future (currently waiting for me at the old bleacher's, puppy dog eyes and all, begging for a cigarette, which sadly I wouldn't be able to trade for a kiss, because I wasn't going to make it. Ugh.).

"While I'm happy you weren't beating up some kid," Heather started. "I am disappointed that you refuse to listen to me."

"Oh, I'm always listening." I smiled widely. "I'm just not acting upon what I hear. Guess you could say I'm stubborn?"

"Get back to class," she said and ran her fingers through the messy waves of different shades of blond.

I busted open the door and enjoyed every pair of eyes that landed on me with a thump, including the teacher's.

"Sorry, I was trying really hard to skip this, but I just couldn't keep away," I said hurriedly and of course dramatically. The teacher's raised eyebrow fell into a frown.

Steadying the strap on my shoulder, I started walking towards my seat, when my eyes almost popped out of my head – I saw Ryan again. He smiled nervously at me, chewing on the pen, his lower lip touched by the ink. If he was hitting on me – which I was hoping wasn't the case – it was utterly weird, and quite frankly a tad bit maddening.

I had come up with at least ten threats when Ryan finally spoke to me in a whisper, just as I was organizing my pen and pencil on the lined paper in front of me. I hadn't brought my notebook with me, because I had planned on skipping and meeting with my forbidden love interest, but Heather had screwed it up (she always screwed things up and somehow I was always the one to blame).

"Sam's ignoring me," he said, and I tried to not burst into a crazy laugh or snap something rude back at him. I was trying this new thing called 'being polite'. I still had no idea how it worked. When I'd opened a door for a girl, she'd sent daggers at me, and I think she'd growled, also. Maybe it was because it had been me opening the door for her, or maybe she was angry at mankind in general, or only men.

It was such a simple and innocent statement coming from Ryan, and in any other case I would have made a joke or told how girls can be such bitches sometimes, but the fact was that I really didn't like him. He'd been toying with Sam ruthlessly, both with her and her heart. And I didn't want to be associated with people who were straight up assholes. (Unless I had a crush on said assholes, then it would be different. But I guess I still wouldn't want to be seen in public with them.)

So I stayed quiet.

Ryan curled the edge his notebook, looking for words. He'd never been good at English, not the subject nor the language itself. "I thought maybe you could tell me the reason behind it," he continued shyly. He was alert and ready to shrug it all off, or give me a hell of a punch right between my eyes.

But I couldn't help it. "Yeah, 'cause you're kind of a dick," I said matter-of-factly.

His bottom jaw fell lower. I heard him breathing through his mouth.

Had what I said been rude?

Oh, so sorry Ryan that I was stating the obvious! Surprised that for once in your life someone tells it as it is? I can name at least five people who agree with me. And some of them are girls. See, you don't fool everyone with your stupid jock uniform and amazing ball catching skills, which by the way are quite poor for my taste.

"But we were supposed to be exclusively only friends with benefits, nothing more," he mumbled. God, his face looked really stupid. I wished Heather would see that, then she'd understand why I sometimes hit people. I merely wanted to knock some sense into them.

I dropped my hands and they slapped against the table which made a couple of people turn. I winced and smiled as best as I could. "A fly," I mouthed an excuse, not that they cared. Then I turned to Ryan. "How moronic can you be? Girls are not that simple. And when your idiotic brain cannot comprehend that fact, you should either strictly stick with hook-ups, or get a girlfriend. There's also the chance of not doing anything, but with a "pretty" little face like yours, it is impossible to keep it in your pants. Am I right?"

Ryan was searching for words, I could see it from his twisting features. He scratched his neck and sighed. "She never told me she liked me," he muttered, and a part of me wondered whether his whole world had popped into place and suddenly everything made sense, but I highly doubted it. Nothing ever made sense.

"Oh no, a pretty girl likes you. Tragic." I rolled my eyes and fell back in my seat. The conversation had become more heated than I'd imagined. Sometimes I was too passionate. These situations usually led to my knuckles becoming itchy and in need of a rough caress.

I stared at the silent guy next to me. It was like he'd lost his voice and brain and limbs all at the same time (although I'm pretty sure his brain was the first to leave). I was a little worried that he might forget to breathe, but then he blinked and I took that as a sign that everything was okay. His lips spread across his face into a wide smile.

"I didn't expect so much info from you," he admitted, relaxing in his chair. "I thought you'd push me or hit my head against the table for even talking." (My reputation had far exceeded my expectations.) Ryan put his palms together and brought his index fingers to his lips. "I owe you." (Words you should never say out loud.) "I owe you."

And my mind was starting to think of things of how I could cash in the favour.