The Bad Boy's Resistance

Chapter 4 - Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?

*******

"Please."
"No."
"Please."
"No."
"Pretty please with chipotle on top." 
"Tempting but still no."

I was currently walking along the school corridor with Andy trailing behind me like a little puppy. 
"Pleeeeeasse. Just this once."
"Andy, I'm not loaning you my sweater to go on your date Friday night. You're not even my size." I explain as I continue to walk. 
"Okay fine, I see how it is." He folds his arms across his chest turning away from me. "And to think, I actually thought we were starting to be friends." He begins dramatically fake sobbing and wiping away fake tears. 
"We are friends Andy, It's just that, my sweater is turquoise and turquoise clashes with your green eyes. Trust me, I'm doing you a favor." He fake sniffles loudly and glances at me and then to the floor. 
"Buuuuuuut I'll go with you to the mall later so you can find a better one." He spun around quickly engulfing me in a bear hug.

Or more like  a care-bear hug.

"Really? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you Nova."
"No problem, mate."

The bell rings interrupting our moment. 
"Oh I got Style 101 class now." he says checking his timetable.
I knot my eyebrows in confusion. "There's a Style 101 class here?" 
"Yeah, you've got cute...ish style." He pointed up and down at my outfit today. You should join."

If there was anyone who was gonna tell you like it is, its Andy. He had attitude for days and could tear you and your outfit apart into the littlest pieces. He once told a girl to get out of class because her ugly shirt was a distraction.
Andy lives with his aunt who is co-editor of "The New," Fashion Magazine. Which meant he had a front row seat for all the fashion shows; and was up front for all the male models' photo-shoots. 

"Jee thanks a bunch Andy, but I think I'll pass"
"You're welcome." He says doing his best Sadie Saxton impression "Anyway, I gotta jet.  See ya sweetie." He happily bounces away down the halls to class. 

"Gotta jet?"
Where did I hear that before?
Think.
Think.
Think.

Oh Amelia.
I haven't seen the poor fresh-meat... I mean freshman, all day. I hope Lola hasn't driven her to insanity yet.

*******

I twist the door handle and as I enter the class is in complete uproar. People are walking about and talking and laughing. Students are writing on the whiteboard, playing paper ball war and playing music on their phones loudly. 
I grabbed a random boy by his pant leg as he was about to hop across the desk to another table. 
"What's going on?"
"Mr. Walker is absent. We've got a free period." 

This class was in such a mess, I didn't want to be in here when Principal Wright came in to stop the madness. I couldn't risk a 'Peter pays for Paul and Paul pays for all' situation. 
I slowly backed out of the classroom quietly closed the door and decided to roam the grounds for a bit. I didn't have a teacher so technically I wasn't skipping class. 

I walked around for a while admiring the architectural structure and how much thought, hard work and money that went into it. 
Remind me to never look at hand-crafted ceilings while I'm walking. Because next thing I knew I was tripping on air and landed face first on the floor. I managed to put my hands in front of me in time to break my fall but I think I twisted my ankle in the process.

"Falling for me already I see."

I opened my eyes to find that I was looking at a pair of black motorcycles boots that weren't properly laced up. My eyes trailed up to a pair of black distressed jean, then to a black Beatles shirt, cloaked by a leather jacket. I kept going until my eyes landed that famous smirk and mesmerizing brown eyes. 
For once I could put a name to the face.