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

THE BOARDERS: 25

Sam

What the fuck was that? Price, with his hands low on Somers' back while she ground against him like a fucking professional? Come on. In my half-wasted state, it doesn't matter that Spencer's not interested in girls, nor that Somers was only having fun. I'm so riled I want to slam my fist into something, now, and the only way I can avoid that is by blurring the edges of this shitty fucking night even further. I need to get to Ott and his flask.

I find him tucked against a cute fourth form. His hands are crawling up and over her hips, and I smack at his forearm, breaking his focus. He glares at me under the swinging lights.

"What," he shouts over the music. I glance around for chaperones, then hold my hand to my mouth, miming a drink.

Brandon rolls his eyes and reaches into his blazer pocket, pulling out the flask.

"Don't finish it!" he shouts as I turn to go, ignoring his demand and taking the rest of the rum down in two thick gulps.

Topper's said no one's allowed at his place until after 10, and it's hardly past 9. I cruise around the dance floor, looking for Somers and pretending I'm not. When I spy Jared talking animatedly to one of his cross-country teammates, I turn to hide my snarl. My brain has spun on that page of notebook paper he tried to hand Somers on Monday. I wonder if he's given them to her in a cross-country practice, if, for some reason, she's beginning to soften toward him. The way she giggled at him earlier had seemed almost friendly.

The night begins to move languidly, as it always does after a few too many drinks. Highlights stick to my brain, but otherwise, it's all happening around me in a loose flow of lights and sounds. I see Spencer dancing wildly with Jill, who's laughing until she catches my eye and her grin disappears. Her eyes narrow and she points at me before drawing her finger across her throat. I think I laugh, but then everything shifts, and the dance seems to be ending, and I still haven't seen Somers anywhere. I wonder if she'll be at Topper's after party and hope like hell she will. The only negative to the amount of booze I've consumed so far? It's harder than usual to bury my desire for the chick.

I'm thinking this when an arm snakes around my waist. I start, embarrassed by the thrill of it, until I glance down to find Molly Jordan curling into me.

"I've decided I forgive you," she says, reaching up and poking at the ring in my lower lip. I lean out of her reach.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You're too hot to be mad at."

Molly, like most of the kids here, is wasted, and if her wild eyes are any indication, she's on something stronger than liquor. A year ago, I'd have been all over that—both the drugs and the girl—but I'm "reformed" now, and I've got a brunette spitfire tearing apart my consciousness. Besides, I know what Molly likes about me: I look like the type of guy her daddy would hate, but I'm bred from the type of family he'd love. It's never bothered me before. Tonight, it does.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Jordan. I'm not interested."

She looks so shocked, so wounded, I can't help but laugh. "It's not you, it's me," I tell her, straight-faced.

"Yeah no shit," she snorts, touching the pearls at her neck with her fingertips. The same way Somers bites her lip when she's feeling vulnerable, Molly touches her necklace. I notice these kinds of things about people.

"Sorry, Mols."

She rolls her eyes, starts to turn. "It's the new girl, isn't it?"

I shrug, shoving a hand into my hair. "I don't know what it is."

"It's the new girl. Lucky bitch." Molly gives me a strange smile and turns, head high.

"Hey, wait."

"What?" She's not hopeful, too proud for that. I'm grateful, because it's not her body I want, but, suddenly—achingly—the other stuff. I tap a finger against my right nostril and her eyes widen.

"Thought you were off it."

"I'm in the mood to fuck some things up tonight."

Molly gives me a long look. "I'm not going to let the new girl toss you off the wagon."

I open my mouth to protest when she continues. "But I can get you drunk. Come on." She grabs my hand and I let her pull me out of the barn and into the cool air outside.

An hour and the better part of a vodka bottle later, the night has gone from languid to start/stop when Molly and I tumble out of the cab onto Topper's lawn, leaning against each other and laughing. I'd forgotten how fun Molly can be when she's not pushing some kind of agenda, and I'm actually kind of enjoying myself. But the feeling of loose happiness disappears the moment we push open the door to reveal Somers, standing beside Jill and giggling at something Weaver's saying. An irrational flood of anger directs itself at both of them. Why the fuck would she be talking with that asshole? Based off everything I know (including the things I shouldn't), she hates his brother. And Jared was the one that filmed and posted my messing with her at the check-in meeting. A little voice in my head whispers, yeah, but you were the one messing with her. I ignore it.

Molly's gaze follows mine, and she considers Jill, Weaver, and Somers with her head cocked. She'd blown another line while we were in her dorm, but she seems as put-together as ever when she says, "You know you have to keep this thing with the new girl under wraps, right? Unless you want to blow things up with your boys."

I'm starting to think so too. I turn to say as much, but Molly has disappeared. I wonder blurrily how long I've stood here.