Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

Talulah's (Part 2)

Guys! If you're reading this, it means you've made it to my 31st chapter--and more and more of you have done! I can't tell you how fucking happy that makes me. Thank you. 

I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I'd love your feedback. I hope to take this first draft and revise it into something way more indulgent, intriguing, and exciting. Help me get there (if you want)! Either way, enjoy :)

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I'm breathing harder than normal as I slam outside, taking a quick sip of my drink before pouring the remainder into a planter by the doors and slamming my cup to the brick patio. It's deserted out here, too chilly for partygoers to comfortably hang out, and I storm down the long expanse of patio to a corner I know isn't visible from the countless windows in the house. I stare at the sky, clenching my jaw and pacing. Fucking Brandon Trent and his little lackey, Jared. And those stupid underclassman runners who just want a piece of the action. I understand that my happiness talking to Reed came from being able to pretend, just for a second, that I wasn't who I am—that my dad was still alive and that I had never come to Ryder; that stupid Samuel Evans had never waltzed into my life like some perfect ruin. But, as always, Brandon took that moment of relief to remind me forcefully that I am who I am. Dead dad, shit roommate, unwanted at every turn.

I dig my fingers into my hair and fight to regain some kind of equilibrium, wishing at the sky for a million impossible things.

"Fuck him," I hiss into the cold night.

"Who, me?" The teasing voice comes from behind. I whirl around, startled.

Brandon is standing on the patio, maybe ten feet away. Jared and the two other guys that were watching us earlier flank him. I narrow my eyes, thinking of their names...Nick, maybe, and Raffi.

Brandon takes a step toward me. "What? You're a mute now? You always have something to say."

"What are you playing at, Brandon?" I don't step back from his approach, but I'm feeling suddenly cornered and too vulnerable. I remind myself that these pretty prep school boys wouldn't do anything to really hurt me. Besides, I know enough basic self-defense to bite and kick my way out if I have to. I force my breathing back toward normal. If they're making me nervous there's no reason for them to know it.

"What am I playing at?" Brandon looks back at his crew and two of the guys let out low bursts of laughter. He's been moving closer, but I've held my ground. I wonder suddenly if I'm wrong—if he's more dangerous than I'm giving him credit for.

"You know what, Brandon? I can tell you're trying to make some kind of point tonight, but I'm not interested." My voice holds its bravado as I take three quick steps toward the door. Brandon doesn't stop me, but Jared does. He catches my arm as I pass and pulls me back, spinning me to face Brandon. The other guys form a kind of blockade between the house and me. We're in shadows and no one knows I'm out here.

I'm angry now, a little scared.

"Ah, come on, Logan," Brandon comes up to where I stand before Jared. A quick mental calculation tells me that a step backward pushes me into Jared's chest; a step forward puts me against Brandon's. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm. Or at least to look it. In my head, I'm working out the space between the door and me, the likelihood of someone stepping out for a smoke, the best way I might break ranks and get out of here.

I try sounding bored. "All right. Let's hear it, then."

Mistake. Brandon's eyes light with challenge and he steps toward me, forcing me to tip my chin up to maintain my glare. I can feel the heat coming off his and Jared's bodies in their proximity.