Bad Boy Owes Me a Favor

Chapter 1

Jace Jensen. Typical bad boy. The kind of guy you wouldn't want your father to meet.

He wasn't the popular type of bad boy; the typical jerk. Nope, no way. He was the other type, a modern day greaser. Wore leather jackets and smoked with his friends in the darkest corner outside the school.

And me? If we're on the subject of labels, I wasn't a cheerleader or anywhere close to being popular. I wasn't a bookworm or a nerd either. Maybe I was borderline hipster. I'm not sure.

I grew up in the town of Milton, and Jace came to my school in the middle of sixth grade. Scared little kid. I'll always remember that. No one else seemed to notice. Apparently, I'm a perceptive person, though. The next year, he had been fully adopted by our modern day greasers. Strange transition, I know. After the leader of the greasers left the school for unknown reasons (but we all know why), Jace silently became the leader.

I never really interacted with Jace until junior year of high school. That's when he asked me for the favor.

No, if you're guessing that he neededme to cover up his singleness and pretend to be his girlfriend, youare absolutely, positively wrong. He's not that kind of bad boy. He made sure everyone knew that he had no true emotions. That he could never fall in love. That he could never feel.

Anyway, my dad owned a mechanic shop downtown. I started working with him when I was in freshman year. I never really minded working on cars, it was just something I grew up hearing about.

"Tessa!" My dad called to me one night from underneath a Honda.

"Yeah?" I asked, walking deeper into the shop and stood on the side of the car where his head was closest to.

"Did José just leave?" He had to yell above all the noise of the machinery.

"He literally just left!" I replied, shouting.

My father swore under his breath, but I still heard it. "Why? What's up?" I asked him.

"I just got off the phone with some mangy kid." My dad slid out from beneath the car, and stood up. "He needs help with his damn motorcycle. Damn nuisance messed up the engine somehow. I need someone to go get it and bring it here and fix it."

"Geez, dad, did he bite your head off through the phone?" I asked, noting his hostility towards whoever this was.

"He's a rude little – well, can you find someone to go get it?"

"Everyone's busy, I'm the only one with nothing to do," I replied. My dad took a deep, annoyed breath, just like he does every time when something's giving him a ton of trouble. "I can go."

"If you're gonna go," My dad picked up a good sized wrench. "Take this."

I laughed, but then realized that he was being serious.

"I'll be fine," I said, but I took the wrench anyways.