Not All Bad Boys Are The Same.

Chapter 9

My life had fallen into a routine. Classes during the day and work during the night. Most of my shifts finished at midnight and classes started at eight. Thanks to the elixir of life, coffee. I was able to get through most of the week.

Beckett and I started to form a comfortable friendship. It wasn't hard getting along with Beckett. I realized that I judged him by his black leather jacket and Chuck Taylor's too soon.

I agree he radiated bad boy with his messy hair and boyish smile, but not once did he hit on another girl in front of me, though tons have tried to hit on him.

Even though Beckett was a total flirt and made the occasional perverted joke, he was proving to be a decent guy. Every morning for the past few days Beckett had been driving me to university while going on and on about formula one cars, nascars, and top gear.

I was slowly getting comfortable around him. He made me laugh most of the time and he was my only friend besides Blaire and Himari. But one thing about Beckett was clear, he hated school work. He would often try to bribe me with food so that I could do his work for him.

"I'm sorry is this seat taken?" Someone with a distinct French accent asked. I looked up surprised to see that it was the girl Beckett and I sat next to on the first day of university. I never noticed how strikingly blue her eyes were before. She was wearing a brown sweater and green pants.

"Not at all," I smiled.

I was surprised to be engaging in any form of conversation with her. We sat together for our English lecture every day and it was the first time she directly looked and spoke to me. I would always greet her whenever I saw her but she would just nod without sparing me a glance.

"Merci." She thanked me in French and took a seat. When I was in high school I never saw the use or should I say the need for learning another language, but when my father was alive he ensured I learned three languages. French, Spanish, and Italian.

I never really liked French and Italian. I preferred Spanish. My mother always said my father expected too much from me. But I never felt the pressure. I knew he was hard on me when it came to my education because he wanted me to succeed in life.

The lecture theater doors burst open and in walked professor Villin wearing his favorite everyday scowl.
He was dressed in full black. The room went silent immediately as everyone watched him walk to the front of the lecture theater.

His baggy blazer hung on his skinny body as if it were a trench coat. His face was unshaven and he had dark circles under his eyes."Who here can tell me about five political leaders that influenced society?" He asked and everyone put their heads down to avoid getting called upon.

Beckett sat next to me with his arms folded behind his head while leaning back in his chair. He strongly disliked Villin. "Nobody?" Villin then sneered and moved to look around. "I guess I'll pick then," he said, and at this point, it looked like people were trying to become apart of their chairs with how low they began sinking.

"You there?" He said pointing at the girl next to me and she looked up like a deer in headlights. A few students began to giggle and she started fumbling with her fingers. "What's the matter cat got your tongue?" Villin asked scowling down at her.

"Urm no," she squeaked and the giggles turned up as she started getting red with embarrassment.

Finally unable to take everyone's eyes on her, she stood up and ran out of the lecture theater while muttering something in French. "That was uncalled for," Beckett spoke up, abruptly from beside. The room went silent as everyone turned around in their seat to stare at Beckett.