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

THE BOARDERS: 22

Sam

I watch Somers flee the dining hall with mixed emotions. On one hand, I'm relieved. The girl wears every emotion on her face, and that final glare, the hurt in her eyes? She won't be coming my way for a long time—if ever again. That saves me the struggle of trying to keep my distance while simultaneously wanting to kiss the hell out of her. (All of her.) On the other hand, I'm fucking guilty. A glance between Spencer's disappointed face and Jill's positively furious one confirms what I already know about myself: I'm a dick.

"What the hell was that?" Spencer says in a low voice. Jill doesn't bother speaking; she just up and storms out the doors after Somers, giving Spence a look that says clearly, 'you handle this bullshit.'

"Yeah, Sam. What the hell was that?" Molly Jordan echoes from down the table, glaring at me accusingly.

For a second, I think she's referring to what I've just done to Somers, but Molly isn't that kind of girl. I ignore Spencer, giving Molly a carefree shrug and smirking. "I never said we were exclusive."

"You—" Molly looks like she wants to say something scathing, but she catches herself, softening the hard edges of her anger. I know Molly well enough to know why: she doesn't want her court, the tennis team, to see her acting hurt over some stupid delinquent. She shakes her head. "You're a loser," she says lamely. Then she stands and storms away from the table. I don't watch her go.

Spencer's lips are lifted in a snarl, a look I've never seen on him. It's intimidating as fuck. "Sam."

"What?" I snap, turning my attention to him. I'm really wishing I had blown off Carr's request and left the rings in. Amazing the way those little bits of metal made me feel protected from any kind of vulnerability. Without them, my emotions seem too raw, too close to the surface.

"What the fuck was that?" Spencer rarely curses, and he's never looked at me with such disgust before. It makes me feel worse than anything that's happened since Somers arrived at Remington. Luckily Brandon cuts in, slapping Spencer on the shoulder in a congenial way.

"I know you're trying to be a nice guy, but that chick sucks balls, man. In more ways than one."

Spencer doesn't respond to Ott. His gaze is still focused on me, still disappointed. I try looking everywhere but him, but I can't quite pull it off. Spencer's known me longer than just about anyone, and he's always been one of very few people who can call me on my bullshit. But I don't need this crap in front of Ott, especially not after the argument we had yesterday when I told him Logan wasn't kicked out of Remington after all.

"Aw fuck off, Spence," I say. "If you weren't into dudes, she'd be crawling onto your dick too and you know it."

Spencer leans back in his chair, staring me down. Finally, he nods and leans forward to grab his lunch tray.

"Grow up, mate. This is too low, even for you." He slams out of the café.

"Well that kid's high and fucking mighty, huh? Fuck." Brandon's laughing to himself, trying to cut the tension, when Weaver drops his tray down in the vacancies left by Somers and Jill.

"Pissed Price off already?" he asks.

"Something like that," I mutter. I'm relieved Jared wasn't around for the accusation I just threw at Somers. It's the last thing she needs.

I curse myself. I don't care what she needs; I can't. What I need to care about is getting a fucking grip. Those dark, angry eyes? They. Are. Not. For. Me.