Prince in a leather jacket

Prince in a leather jacket

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(PREVIOUSLY CALLED 'TUTORING THE BAD BOY') In Ella Archbald's opinion, there wasn't anyone more annoying than Ryan McCauley in the entire world. When he passed by her house in his noisy motorcycle, her grandpa always exclaimed he was a stupid, inconsequent young lad, and when he started to go to her school and they met, she couldn't agree more. When his aunt and also her teacher, the lovely Mrs. Littleton, asked her to tutor Ryan in mathematics, Ella almost had a heart attack. However, how could she say 'no' to her amazing teacher? Ella had a hard time saying the word 'no' to anyone, and even though she put effort on the task, Mrs. Littleton's puppy eyes were unbeatable. She agreed. Just great! Ella's senior year just needed that to be a complete mess. She needed to decide to which colleges she would apply, she had to study more than ever, she also had to deal with her feelings towards her bestfriend's brother Jay and now she had to tutor the city's bad boy. But would Ryan really be that bad, or he would turn out to be her prince?
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Alone. A simple word that has always held many meanings to Ella, and starting her senior year at a new high school, solitude had seemed the easiest way to go. A week passed, bland and unnoticed, before her plans quickly get thrown overboard. Losing one of her most priced possessions, she finds herself making a rather simple deal with someone from school. His name, for her book. There's only one little problem; she has no idea who this person is. Laughs and tears, friends and heartbreak, and the past that comes knocking on the door. Ella faces it all as she takes on the search to find her secret admirer. ___________________ "I can't believe him after the texts, the letter, the flowers. All these months and he just tells me 'we'll talk later'", I told him, feeling absolutely frustrated. I am so damn stupid, thinking this was gonna be something special or whatever. "It isn't him", he suddenly spoke and I just rolled my eyes. He doesn't even know what he's talking about, the imbisile. "It is, you don't even know what you're talking about so shut up", I cried out, walking forth and back for the hundredth time. "Listen, I do and it isn't him", he yelled this time and I stopped walking, angrily turning to him. Can he stop just pissing me off even more? "Oh yeah? And how are you so sure?" "Because it's me"

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