I'm holding the bad boy's boxers

My mother raised a lady.

Lexi's POV

We walked out of school and along the high street into the town, and Chad began questioning me about where we should go.

There was always the cafes, but if no one else from our health class had decided to go there, then we would stand out and likely caught skiving, and if they did go there it would be uber busy.

Before we go any further I guess if better explain my living arrangements, or somethings make get a bit confusing. I live in a village, which backs onto a town, which backs onto a city. And when I say backs on I quite literally mean it. The main road connects the entire settlement, running through the centre of the village, town and city until it reaches the motorway. The only indication that you are changing areas is that at certain points along the road there is those, "Welcome to Rigby Village" then "Welcome to Rigby Town" then "Welcome to Rigby."

It is strange living on the outskirts of a city. You see everyone has a large enough stick up their arse to pull off the whole briefcase work march (power walking to work whilst ignoring everyone except the person on the other end of your Bluetooth earpiece) but there are not enough people for this march not to stand out. As a result, you see city stereotypes such as the feed the birds lady, the grumpy traffic warden, the penguin businessman, the weird old man who walks up the road every morning to buy a tin of tuna from the co-op, etc... but instead of being nameless people consumed by a mass of moderately overweight citizens, they are individuals with names.

We have Ronald, the grumpy traffic warden, he is currently counting his coppers with the hopes of branching out of traffic wardenry, and since he is paid for every ticket he gives out, well you'd best not park within a five-mile radius of our little settlement.

We have Timothy Goggins, our resident penguin businessman. He recently got some fancy-ass job in the city, a fact his dear foghorn of a mother reminds the village on every possible occasion.

Oh, and our resident tuna man is called Bert. There's not much to say about him with the exception of the time he set the village hall on fire. An event referred to by most as "Bert's little moment", or by Bert as "that damned cat!"

Anyway, it seemed the best option we had was to grab some food from the supermarket and make our way to the park.

"So where are we going?" Asked Chad

"Sainsbury's"

"What?"

"Sainsbury's, we're going to Sainsbury's ."

"Okay love," He said, his cocky swagger returning full force. I attempted to disembowel him with a glare. "Lexi. I said Lexi, slip of the tongue lo-Lexi. Don't shoot"

I was slowly forgetting why I'd allowed him to tag along.

"Anyway Lexi, when you said we were skipping school I thought you meant, well, you know, we'd be doing something slightly cooler."

"Well tough shit Moaning Mikey, you'll have to work on your street cred another time. I for one am not going to get caught skiving because you wanted to do something badass."

By this point, we'd reached Sainsbury's. I stood by the automatic door and proclaimed that badass school musical needed to "Come the fuck in, or fuck the fuck off."

Dear Lordy I was going to kill the boy before the day was out.

Chad practically dragged his body across the threshold, shoulders hung, frowny face on, he was the epitome of a grumpy teen.

"Suck it up high school musical and follow me to the crisp aisle."

His face perked up at that.

"Food." He asked, grinning like happy-go-lucky.