The Original Bad Boy

21| The Badass Every Girl Wants

"The original bad boy . . . is a screw up."

21| The Badass Every Girl Wants

"Wanna tell me why you skipped class?"

He leans back in his chair, giving me his full attention. In that moment, I wish I could've told him how much it sucked being a moron who couldn't keep her mouth shut in front of the wrong people.

"My friend got in a fight," I answer. He raises an eyebrow and I explain, "It was practically his first day back to school, so you wouldn't know him. Nevertheless, two idiots told him a guy was harassing the girl he likes, and the next thing you know, we're all icing his black eye and other bruises."

Vivian shifts forward, his forearms flat on the dinner table. "Want me to beat up the guy who beat up your friend?" A smile plays at his lips and I earn a glimpse of a small dimple.

"I thought you'd be ashamed I didn't use my self defense skills," I confess.

"I'd rather you not get involved in other people's fights."

"I have my own to tackle," I mutter under my breath.

"Huh?"

"Mr. Dex--Vivian," I correct when he opens his mouth to scold, "we have three minutes left and I'd like to chat about something other than me skipping a highly valuable lesson in gym class."

He checks the timer and swears. "Okay. Have you been to the Museum of Art here in NYC?" I shake my head, wondering how that had anything to do with the seven minutes of conversation. "Would you like to?"

I slowly nod, but then I shake my head realizing he's asking me out.

"Is that a yes or a no?" he asks confused.

I don't even know.

"You're my teacher," I point out in disbelief.

"Yeah, we'll go for research purposes," he says almost sarcastically. "If it just so happens that one of my students wants to learn something outside of class, no one can object."

"How does self defense relate to the history of art?"

"Who's talking about art history?" My eyes widen at whatever he's trying to imply. He seems to understand my discomfort too. "Okay, that didn't sound right. I do have an art history project for my college class and rather than me wandering alone, I thought I'd have company." His face softens, and I can easily see the disappointment. "If you don't want to go, you can say no."

"You're my teacher," I repeat again.

"Self defense teacher. I'm only a year older than you, maybe."

I blink at him with an abundance of thoughts racing marathons through my mind. As interesting as a museum is, visiting it with my . . . teacher seems risky and unconventional.

"If I go with you, would it be considered a date?"

He presses his lips, trying to hide a smile but I see it anyways. "Only if you want it to be."

I hesitate before producing my answer: "I'll go, but it's not a date."

"Deal." He grins. 

Before we can continue any further, the clumsy waitress walks up to the table with Vivian's order and accidentally drops it. Every single thing spills across the table on top of him and on top of me. 

I no longer have the heart to say anything to anyone. 

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The date or the "Not a Date" with Vivian has me on the edge the entire night. If that isn't enough, the Ben and Danie issue as well as my own stupidity for opening my mouth overshadows everything else. Arsen asked me to join his gang to save my life, but that was equivalent of asking me to commit suicide. I didn't have that kind of self destruction motivation.