Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

21 - good and strange

A/N: This chapter is kind of patchy, but I hope it isn't much of a bother. If it is, let me know. If it isn't, let me know.

All in all, votes and comments are most welcome.

Chapter 21 – good and strange

A strange face is staring at me.

The face of someone messed up is also messed up.

I touch the bruise on my cheek and wince. I definitely don't look handsome right now. I look like something bad.

Sam's sitting on her bed, one leg over the other, arms supporting her body. "See? That's not the face of a gentleman," she says. Yes, obviously, Sam. Thank you for saying it. "Also, a gentleman knows his worth. He knows when it is time to fight and he knows when to suck in the claws and fangs and just smile politely." She fall down on the bed and spreads her arms out.

"I don't have claws, and I certainly don't have fangs."

"Don't question me," Sam warns. "The more you push the closer to a cliff you get yourself. You might fall acting like that." She's looking at her phone, texting someone. "Enough with the 'I'm not manly enough if I don't fight' crap."

"How long do I have to stare at myself?"

"Until you realize that bad boy needs to become good."

Sam made me into the mascot of drama club. Seems fitting since I am the prince of drama. Not going to call myself king yet. The crown will be given after I've accomplished something, anything. When boy becomes man and the lion roars, the earth shakes and the moon turns its frown upside down, perhaps then I'll become king of something.

I'm sitting on the edge of the stage, legs dangling. Sam is rushing around, making sure everything is according to plan, that everyone is focused. She has more importance than just the five lines, seems she has taken over leadership. I don't think anyone gave it away willingly. She sort of stormed in and took it.

"Okay, it seems that the prince has fallen ill," Sam sighs. It's been one head-aching rollercoaster for the both us, but more for Sam. She likes to be in charge, and if we lived in a different time, she'd make one hell of a queen. But this isn't a YA novel. "Luke, would you mind helping us?" Sam wipes her forehead, puts hands on her hips and stares at me, waiting. This took more guts than she's showing.

I grimace. "Oh, why, oh why did the evil woman give him the poison apple?" I brush my palms against my jeans and turns around, push myself to my feet.

"Very funny," she says without any humour, "but can you help us? You'd just stand there and read the lines. You don't have to do much," she explains and shoves the script into my chest. "Just so that we could run all of this through today and figure out what's still wrong and could be improved."

I frown. "When are you going to talk to Heather?"

"I am. I am!" Sam assures. She drags people in their places while speaking to me. "As soon as I get the time, and I will get it. Let's just do this, please." Her eyes look so sweet, but I know if I say no, she'll attack me like a rabid animal.

I nod. She nods. She nods again and turns around to smile at everyone.

For your information, I'm never going to take up acting, because it's stupid. You already know that nothing's real even before the acting starts. That's why it's more fun to create chaos and drama in real life – you can never really tell if it's real or not.