I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Rachel and Daniel, letting them know I was running late. Judging by the time, I was at least missing the painful drone of our assistant principal, Mr. Kane, as he read the morning announcements. He always sounded as if he needed to blow his nose.
So maybe the day was still salvageable. I tried to minimize conversation as Dad drifted lazily through our tiny town toward the high school. He sang along, rather badly, to the Righteous Brothers, his voice an alarming falsetto. His shoulders swayed with the beat.
Dad was being so over the top that I couldn’t help but crack the barest hint of a smile. He caught me, of course, my emo facade at an effective end. He let out a whoop. “There’s my girl’s smile! I knew it was hiding somewhere.” He reached over and poked me in the side, causing me to squirm and laugh grudgingly.
“You are such a dork, Dad,” I told him, not unkindly. He only grinned and turned up the radio. The auditory torture didn’t last much longer before we pulled up in front of Jackson High School. I barely gave my dad time to slow down before I propelled myself from the still-moving vehicle.
“Don’t forget to call the garage at lunch,” Dad reminded me again. I gave him an ironic salute and turned to walk toward the school. I was glad to see I wasn’t the only straggler this morning. A few other kids were hurrying from the parking lot.
I fumbled to get my phone out of my jacket pocket, wanting to send a last text to my friends to let them know I was there. I was having a lot of trouble getting it out; thus I was less than attentive as I slammed into the back of someone who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Hey!” I yelled as I collided with the very solid body. I dropped my phone, the back popping off and the battery skittering across the concrete. The guy dropped the papers he was holding and they scattered at his feet.
We simultaneously let loose a string of expletives that would have earned me a mouth full of soap had my mother heard. “What the hell?” the guy growled, stooping to pick up the items he had dropped in our human fender bender. Okay, I was already in a craptastic mood and his snotty tone was just the icing on an already pissy cake. So, maybe I was being clumsy and all, but I didn’t need some random guy giving me grief. “Oh, I’m sorry; did I miss the Stop sign?” I fired back, not bothering to look at the jackass as I tried to fit the broken metal onto the back of my phone.
I heard what sounded like a gritting of teeth. “Guess it’s too much to expect an apology.” His sarcasm was thick, his words ground out through an obvious grimace.
“Probably,” I quipped, finally looking up into the most amazing pair of brown eyes that I had ever seen.
Hot damn. Cue the violins and happy cartoon bunnies; I was in the middle of a Disney moment. Because this guy was gorgeous. And we were standing so close to each other. If he hadn’t been holding on to a barely contained rage directed at yours truly, it could have almost been construed as romantic.
Just add delusions to my growing list of issues.
Mr. Cutie stood there in all his infuriated glory—and he was seriously angry. His perfectly symmetrical face (covered with a fine dusting of adorable freckles, I might add) was flushed a rather alarming shade of red. Those awesome brown eyes flashed murder. He was quite a bit taller than I, with dark hair that curled around his forehead and ears as if he hadn’t bothered with a haircut in a while. He had a cleft in his chin and a tiny scar under his right eye. And, despite his obvious good looks, he appeared decidedly unhinged. Wow, they were only papers.
Cute Boy took a deep breath and closed his eyes. I jammed my hands into my pockets and made the decision to get the hell out of there. I started to move around him, making sure to give him a wide berth. His voice, much calmer now, stopped me. “Well, you could at least tell me where the main office is. You know, after practically running me over and all.”
If his tone had been playful, I would have been able to pretend he was flirting with me. But nope, he was terse and irritated and in a very bad mood. And I had had enough of it for one morning. So, his cuteness aside, this guy could go take a flying leap somewhere.
“You’re a big boy; I’m sure you can handle this one on your own.” I turned and quickly walked away.
“Thanks for nothing!” he yelled after me. Yep, Hot Boy came with a bad attitude. Not really my idea of a good time, thank you very much. I couldn’t get away fast enough.
chapter
two
“that’s it! I’m swearing off every member of the female population. Do they still have monasteries? ’Cause a lifetime of praying and bad haircuts sure as hell beats chicks and their freaking drama.” Daniel’s lunch tray came down with a loud clang on the table.
Rachel and I rolled our eyes in unison and turned to the third member of our trio with what we hoped were supportive expressions. “What did Kylie do this time?” Rachel asked, popping a Cheeto into her mouth. Daniel ran his hand over his buzzed blond head. He was clearly very agitated. But, honestly, when wasn’t he agitated? Daniel was as big a drama queen (or king, or whatever) as any girl.
He let out a long, tortured sigh and propped his chin on his hand. Rachel’s eyes went all gooey and I saw the telltale signs of her unrequited crush rearing its ugly head. Looking at our best friend, it was easy for me to understand why she felt the way she did. Daniel was easily one of the best-looking guys at Jackson High School. If he weren’t the closest thing I had to a brother, I would have joined Rachel in Crushland. His puppy-dog eyes and perfect lips were many a girl’s dream and definitely helped in the popularity department. Rachel and I, being his best friends, gained popularity by association. Not that I cared much about all that.
Daniel’s on-and-off relationship with Kylie Good, a perky junior who happened to be co-captain of the girls’ field-hockey team and was so cute you wanted to slap her, was the source of a lot of drama. Honestly, it was exhausting, even as a spectator. Kylie was nice in a fake kind of way but, in my opinion, her insane insecurities and even more insane jealousy made her truly insufferable and a really shitty girlfriend.
Personally, I thought Daniel got off on the craziness of their relationship. Some people were like that—getting some sort of thrill out of constant turmoil. Otherwise I couldn’t wrap my mind around why Daniel had put up with all of that nonsense for the past year and a half.
“I’ve been staying after school getting help in trig from Laura Johnson. Shit, it’s just schoolwork. And it’s fucking Laura ‘Granny Panties’ Johnson! It’s not like I’ve been secretly banging her as she whispers math problems in my ear or something.” Rachel and I each stifled a giggle. Daniel shook his bottle of chocolate milk, his admitted weakness, and opened it roughly. He raised his eyebrows as we tried to stop laughing. I schooled my face into blank attentiveness.
“So Kylie thinks you’re getting it on with Laura? Really? Has she lost what few brains haven’t already gone missing from one too many hockey sticks to the head?” I asked, popping open my can of soda. Daniel frowned and chose to ignore my comment. Rachel jumped in, the epitome of understanding and support.
“So, what happened, Danny? Did you guys have a fight?” Daniel’s expression smoothed out and he sighed again. Yep, total drama queen.
“Yeah, Kylie just went off on me. She says I shouldn’t be spending so much time alone with girls that weren’t her. She is just completely irrational.”
“What about us? You spend tons of time with us. Last time I checked, we fit in the vagina column,” I remarked. Daniel choked on his milk. Rachel snorted.
Daniel cleared his throat. “You guys don’t really count. I mean, you’re Rachel and Mags. Kylie knows that you guys might as well have a penis.” Well, that was more than bordering on offensive. Rachel moved her hands into her lap, clearly hurt by Daniel’s words. He was so dense. How could he not know that saying something like that could hurt someone’s feelings?
