Keeping the Bad Boy

Chapter 7

Malory speaks with this fake British accent so I basically have an English friend. I sit next to the loner creep in almost every class I have. He's super hot...and super mean. He never talks to anybody and when he does, he doesn't even talk. He spats and growls, acting as if it is ruining his day to talk to you. Everyone knows that he found his brother almost dead, but we don't know what almost killed him. There's a bunch of rumors about it, but the most common one is the theory that he tried to kill his brother, but someone called the cops. I think his name is Samuel, but he goes by Sam. Just as my name is Courtney, but my friends call me Court.

After school, I walk to the side of the administration building and sit down at the base of a tall oak tree. It leaves have turned beautiful colors of red, yellow, and orange. I pull my laptop out of my backpack along with a stack of books, my iPod and my purple Beats. I go to my 5 Seconds of Summer play list, hit shuffle, and turn it up all the way, drowning out the world around me. Malory left early for a doctors appointment. I log in to my profile and start where I left of on the latest Teen Wolf fan-fiction that I started a couple of days ago. Suddenly,my laptop flies of my lap and I'm turned sideways, a sharp pain in my calves. I look up at the form laying beside me. He jumps up, brushing the dry, dead grass from his black muscle shirt and black basketball shorts. I stand. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to-I-I'm so so so sorry!" He winces and looks down at his left bicep. A large gash is oozing blood, making a red stream from his bicep to the tips of his fingers. The tiny blood drops dribble to the ground. "You're bleeding." I reach out to touch his arm, but he quickly sidesteps. "I'll be fine. Just...just watch who you do..." he looks at the books and my laptop. "Just watch who you do whatever around, okay?" I nod and his eyes meet mine. A bright golden color, paired with black hair. He starts to walk away, but stops and turns around. "I'm Sam, by the way!" he calls back. Even when he yells, his voice is a smooth, deep rumble. I smile, "I know who you are." He nods, turns around, and runs to his motorcycle. He quickly puts on his jacket-even though he has a bloody arm- and his helmet and starts his bike. I watch as he gracefully speeds away. I sigh and bend down to pick up my things. My hands are shaking so bad, I can't even function. My heart is in my throat and my stomach twisted itself into a knot. I begin to wonder if it was Sam that had this effect on me. And if it was him...why? Yeah, he's cute, but I don't even know him. How could I like him? I shake the thought from my head, shove my stuff back into my bag and head for my Jeep. I'm jittery all the way home. I make a cup of hot chocolate and lay down on my bed. Why? Why was I so happy and so nervous when I was talking to him? I close my eyes and try to calm myself enough to be able to hold the cocoa mug steady.