Hanging With The Bad Boys (Edited)

Chapter 9- I'm Starting To Enjoy This

I get home at 6:30 pm, and Luke said he'd be here by 7 pm to help. After closing the door behind me, I head straight to my bedroom.

I take a shower, put on shorts and a shirt, and tie my hair in a ponytail. The doorbell rings, and I walk downstairs to find Luke at the door in jeans and a blue shirt, his hair slicked back.

I let him in, and he suggests, "My aunt loves spaghetti and meatballs; let's make that since it's quick."

I add, "And ice cream for dessert; we have some in the freezer." He nods, "Excellent, let's get cooking."

We head to the kitchen and gather the ingredients. I put on an apron and hairnet while Luke does the same. He fills a pot with water, lights the stove, and adds the spaghetti. I sit by the kitchen island, watching him. He has cute blue eyes and a kind smile.

He notices me staring and says, "Yeah, I know I'm cute; thanks anyway," causing me to blush. Once the spaghetti is ready, we start on the meatballs while I mostly scroll through my phone.

Luke announces, "All done, just in time," as I see it's 7:40 pm.

The doorbell rings again, and I open it to find Chelsea in a fitted black dress that shows off her figure. She removes her jacket and pushes it into my hands as she walks in.

"Good night to you too," I say, but she frowns. I drop the jacket on the floor and start to walk away when Chelsea grabs my hand.

"Pick up my jacket," she demands. I glance between the jacket and her.

"It's yours, not mine. Now let me go," I reply, but she grips my hand tighter.

Suddenly, I slap her cheek. Did I just slap her?

"You just slapped me! Bitch, you just slapped me!" she screams.

I pull my hand away and head to the dining room, grabbing a plate of food and dumping it on Chelsea's head. She spits, "You're just like your mother—cruel."

Fury courses through me, and I punch her in the face, tears stinging my eyes as I shout, "I am nothing like her! Don't ever compare me to her!"

Luke rushes in, confused to see Chelsea with a bloody nose. "Get her out of here before I do something I'll regret," I tell him. I retreat to my room, lock the door, and start to cry.

Lying in bed, I gaze at a frame on my desk—a picture of me and my mom in France when I was eleven, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. I miss her so much. Changing into pajamas, I turn on the TV and switch off my phone to silence any interruptions. At 10:15 pm, my dad comes home. I know Chelsea told him everything.

I hear a knock on my door. "Anna, are you okay?" my dad asks, sighing at my silence. I eventually fall asleep, knowing Chelsea won't be back for a while.

The next day, I wake up at 7:30 am without setting an alarm. After bathing, I put on leather clothes and style my hair in a bun with large hoop earrings, smoky eyes, and red lipstick.

I grab my helmet to ride my motorcycle and notice a note from my dad: "I'll be home early today to discuss last night."

Sighing, I quickly eat a granola bar and ride to school. The parking lot is mostly empty except for some students skipping class. I spot Justin and Jordan by their vehicles, waiting for me.

"Hi! You didn't have to wait for me," I say.

"Yeah, we wanted to. By the way, you look hot—hotter than Stephanie," Jordan replies.

I chuckle at the compliment from one of the school's bad boys. Dressed in leather jeans, black boots, a dark blue tank top, and a leather jacket, I walk into school with them. I have geography class, and the teacher is very strict.

As I enter with Jordan, the teacher asks, "Where's your late pass?"

What late pass?

I scramble for an excuse, but Jordan steps in. "Sir, Ana and I were finishing your homework and lost track of time."

The teacher eyes us before stating, "Detention after school. This is just a warning; next time, it'll be a week's detention."

I shoot Jordan a grateful look as I sit down. The guys' gazes linger on me, and I smile, knowing I look good—if Jordan thinks so, all the guys likely do too.

A guy next to me says, "Here's my number, sexy. Call me anytime," and winks. The girl beside me glares at him, annoyed. I tuck the paper into my bag, starting to enjoy the attention.

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