The Bad Boy's Good Girl

17. "Dylan Here Just Stabbed Me With a Pencil."

NOT EDITED

Baby be the class clown,

I'll be the beauty queen in tears,

It's a new art form

Showing people how little we care, yeah.

(Tennis Court - Lorde)

I muster a strong face as I walk into Calculus on Monday, trying hard not to let my eyes stray to the back of the room.

I take my usual seat, my back and shoulders tense. I have been avoiding Drew all morning. He tried to approach me the second I stepped out of Noel's car, but I ducked into the girl's restrooms.

Classy, I know.

"Pst," a hushed voice comes from behind me. I clench my fists as Mr. Clears steps in, greeting good morning. "CG, hey."

I stay as still as a stick, taking a pencil from my back pack and sharpening it, which I rarely do since I found the magic of mechanical pencils. 

A loud sigh emits from behind me.

Then, a new voice speaks. "Dude, the chick obviously doesn't want to talk ... why are you pestering her?" 

It's the guy who flirted with me on the first day of school.

I sigh through my nose as Drew answers. 

"I ... fuck it."

Then, he says, rather loudly, "Oh my God, what the hell?"

Mr. Clears stops, and turns to the back. "Is there anything wrong, Mr. Steele?"

"Dylan here just stabbed me with a pencil."

Oh, he did not. 

All eyes turn to me as I blush and deny it furiously. "N-no! I didn't ... I didn't," I stammer, before realizing my attempts are futile. 

Mr. Clears sighs. "Scott, Steele, out."

I stand, shoving my hands into my pockets. It's no use. I can lie well, but I'll even crack on the truth under pressure. Drew, on the other hand ... well, we all know how good he is at lying.

All three of us step out into the empty hall. Mr. Clears shuts the door, and raises his brow. He isn't talking, so I fire every single hate I've been holding in since Friday.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I say lowly. "One second we're all close, the next you're shutting me out. What? What exactly did I do wrong?"

Drew crosses his arms, his expression hard and unreadable. "Me? I've never shut you out. Sweetheart, it's never been me. It's always you shutting me out."

"I don't shut you out," I fire back immediately. "Name one thing you don't know about me, I fucking dare you."

"I don't get why you love photography so much," he steps forward. "It's a few pieces of paper, so what? You hate looking me in the eye. You welcome thunderstorms. Why? I don't know. You're scared of what can't hurt you, but you challenge danger. That's insane, but I don't know why you do it." His eyes are ignited with a fire I've never seen.

"Drew-"

"You hate cussing, yet you do it all the time. Your taste in music sucks. I don't see why you're always so complicated - Calculus is more simple than you are. You hate parties. You're easy to read, yet not. You lose yourself the second a camera is in your hands. 

"You don't trust easily. It was easy for you to let me in, but everyone else, including your own mom, it's no walk in the park. Whenever you slip something out, you end up covering it up which I find fucking adorable." He then steps forward again, gripping my shoulders. "I love it when you fuss over Calculus. I love that you're not like other girls. It's not right, but I love it when you threaten to hurt me, because it's so cute to watch you get all fired up." He brushes a stray hair from my face.