Mr. Bad Boy//CameronDallas

Chapter One [1]

"So, what would you rate his butt? A nine, or a ten? I was kind of thinking, like, a nine, because it isn't curvy enough."

I sighed, absentmindedly listening in on a pointless conversation audible from the preppy girls seated in front of me, who to my dismay, were speaking of another individuals' butt.

"No, definently a ten," The brunette replied quickly, in a sharp tone. I huffed, narrowing my eyes at the Calculus worksheet in front of me. How these girls even reached this level in mathmatics is beyond me.

"I totally agree," The blonde girl chimes in, flipping her sun scorched wavy hair over her shoulder in one swift movement.

Once again, I attempted to return my focus and undivided attention back toward my worksheet, but of course, that was not possible; due to the girls' giggling recklessly, and rather loudly.

I rolled my unattractive brown eyes nonchalantly, eventually surrendering and leaning back into my plastic, uncomfortable chair. That is, until my worksheet is swiped off my wooden school desk by a fresh, manicured set of nails.

Each of the three girls snatch college-ruled papers from their folders, copying down my answers from my own sheet at an almost instant. I leaped from my chair, leaning forcefully over my desk, attempting to retrieve my paper from the girls, whose name I have learned in the beginning of the year to be Ashley, Rose, and Brooke.

Of course, I had failed miserably in snatching my worksheet back, considering my glasses fell right off the tip of my nose, crashing toward the dirty, tiled classroom floor. With blurred vision, I could hardly see the smirks playing on each of their faces, but the cackling is evident in their voice.

Although, the wheel of furtone had to be spinning in my favor today because suddenly the giggling and taunting had seized to an end, and a blurred, tall yet lean figure spoke with a deep, alluring voice.

"Okay, class, that's enough chatting for today," The teacher, Mr. Hemsworth had spoken up as he treaded inside the classroom. Ashley huffed as Mr. Hemsworth's clear blue eyes narrowed down to her group, and Ashley relunctantly slipped my worksheet back towards me. I nod toward Mr. Hemsworth, allowing him to finally proceed his assignment and instructions for today. I had to reach over and snatch my glasses off the ground, kind of quickly so I wouldn't make myself noticeable.

As if I hadn't waited long enough, the bell finally rings, signaling next hour; the last hour of the day. I sighed in relief as I collected my worksheet and pencil before slowly pacing behind the cluttered students rushing out of the classroom door.

Once out into the corridor, I weave my way through the large crowds without getting noticed, arriving at my locker with ease. Until, someone else closes my locker door shut with such force it could have bent. I flinched, instantly shifting my direction toward the person who cruedly did this.

Of course, I'm met with the same piercing icy eyes. I rolled my own eyes, attempting to open the locker again, trying to ignore the rude boy glaring at me intensely. But, his hand once again blocked my locker from opening.

With as much annoyance as one could possible handle, I faced towards the dark haired boy. "What do you want?"

He smirked, a quick blinding session glittering my eyes as his rough hand files through his silky dark hair, and then scanned his hand down his fair skinned features.

Then, he fumbled out a fake gasp, pointing his index finger towards my right leg.

"Is that a bruise, Ms. Bell?" Nash taunts, and I instantly glance towards my thin legs.

"What? There's nothing wrong with my legs," I lied, there is most certainly something wrong with my legs- they're absolutely pale, but no bruise is visible.