Dancing With Danger ➵Tyrus (COMPLETE)

1

"So, this is the cafeteria. Everyone meets here for lunch and-"

"I know what a cafeteria is, Goodman. Let me guess, people eat here?"

I had spent the last few periods following TJ through his class schedule and getting him acquainted with Grant High School. I tried getting to know him a little better, but all he liked talking about was his Harley. I tried contributing to the "conversation" every so often, but I truthfully didn't know anything about motorcycles or anything dangerous like that. I was comfortable in my little bubble, managing perfect grades and working at the little downtown coffee shop that my friends loved going to. I don't think TJ would be very interested in hearing about my latte art fiascos or the grade I got on my AP Calculus exam, so I simply listen intently to what the boy is saying about motorcycles and focus on the way his lips contort to every word he says. I can't stop myself from gazing until I hear somebody dramatically clearing their throat behind me. Dr. Metcalf.

Dr. Metcalf asks TJ to follow him to the principal's office, and I instinctively follow behind TJ, who's dragging his feet and sighing the whole way there. Neither men ask me to go away, though. When we arrive to Dr. Metcalf's office, I immediately know somebody's in trouble and I pray that it isn't me. Of course, it isn't. I only go to Dr. Metcalf's office to receive my Honor Roll awards every semester.

All eyes are on TJ as Dr. Metcalf calmly asks him about how he's liking the school so far, how does he like his teachers, and whether he's considering any extracurriculars yet. TJ, clearly disinterested in the conversation, responds with brief answers and grunts, which seems to satiate Dr. Metcalf until the topic turns to TJ's jacket. The leather one, with the middle-finger-wielding skeleton. TJ immediately stiffens in his seat and I can feel the tension rising in the air. He's not giving in without a fight. Or at least, a whole lot of attitude.

"What's wrong with my jacket?" TJ questions, posture growing more rigid by the second.

"TJ, at least half of those patches should be banned in the United States. You definitely can't be wearing that on school property. I'm going to politely ask you one more time to remove it, and I don't think we want our early impressions of each other to end on poor terms. Do we?"

TJ sighs and reluctantly removes his jacket without so much as a nod of the head. He's wearing a white tank top underneath, and I can't help but notice the smoothness of his skin and the tone of his muscles. Even his shoulders look incredible--what the heck? I catch the sharp edge of a tattoo peeking out from his inner left bicep, which Dr. Metcalf glares at before grunting and deciding to ultimately ignore. Before I can even gather my thoughts, TJ's sauntering out the door with a grumble and Metcalf is staring at me intently. Did I miss something?

"Cyrus. You know you're one of my best students," Dr. Metcalf started, clearly anxious about what he was about to say to me. "I need you to keep an eye on TJ. Please. Help him to stay out of trouble and perhaps take him under your wing. He's been through quite a lot, and coming here is kind of a new chance for him. If anybody can make him feel welcome, it's you."

I nod my head and smile, agreeing with a wide smile. Blame it on my psychologist parents, but I was determined to get inside TJ's head and figure out the inner-workings of his mind. I wanted to get underneath that icy exterior and get to know who TJ really was; even if I got hurt in the process.