A Bad Boy in my life

Twelve

"What a mess," I muttered, scowling at my reflection in the living room's dresser mirror. The new school uniform looked utterly unflattering on me. It made me question if the issue was with the clothes themselves or my own lack of fashion sense. Nevertheless, I had been preoccupied with thoughts of the upcoming school week and the chores that kept me busy over the weekend.

As I made my way towards the door, my lion plush keychain caught my eye. I had held onto it since I was five, attaching it to my zipper for good luck. Slipping on my backpack, I mentally recited encouraging words to myself, desperately hoping that the day wouldn't turn into a disaster.

Just then, Maxon appeared in the living room, sliding down the staircase railing with an audacious disregard for safety. He landed smoothly, standing next to me with a mischievous grin.

"You know, the railing is meant to prevent accidents, not cause them," I warned, a mixture of amusement and concern in my voice.

"What's the point of having a railing at home, then?" he quipped, his lips curling upwards.

I suppressed a smile, shaking my head at his audacious nature. His usual attire of black stood in stark contrast to the school uniform that I despised so much.

"The uniform looks good on you," he commented casually, his eyes scanning me from head to toe.

I started to protest, but then a sudden realization struck me. "Wait a minute... Why don't you have to wear the uniform?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Because I'm different," he replied, opening the wooden door for me.

My eyebrows furrowed in disbelief at the unfairness of it all. It was hard to imagine him conforming to any dress code, let alone a school uniform.

"Would you like a ride today?" he offered, dangling the keys in front of me.

I let out a sigh, annoyed at his persistent attempts to get me on that motorcycle. "Let's make it clear that I only accepted your ride that day out of desperation and necessity," I asserted. "Don't think it's going to become a habit."

His disappointment was evident, but he accepted my decision. We walked towards the garage, with me reconsidering my stance. Perhaps a ride with Maxon would provide an opportunity to gather more information about what I had overheard in the bathroom. It could be a chance to get closer to him and unravel the mystery of his arrest.

"Maxon," I called out, my mind changing direction. "Maybe having a guide would save me some time finding my class," I added, shrugging.

A skeptical smile crept onto his face as he handed me a helmet. "I better not think about the different heads that have been inside this helmet," I remarked, pulling a dramatic face.

He chuckled. "You didn't mind the first time," he reminded me.

"That was because I didn't have time to think about it," I replied dismissively.

He then offered his own (obviously black) helmet, teasingly suggesting that it might be even worse. I rolled my eyes, accepting the helmet he initially offered. As I placed it on my head, an unexpected fragrance of shampoo and men's cologne wafted through my senses.

Climbing onto the back of the motorcycle, I rested my hands on Maxon's shoulders. "Go easy, okay?" I requested, my voice betraying a hint of apprehension.

"Ah, baby. Sorry, but I'm not good at doing anything slowly," he quipped, his words carrying a double entendre that sent a shiver down my spine.

I searched for a handgrip behind me, but Maxon surprised me by gripping my arms firmly and wrapping them around his waist. The motorcycle roared to life, and the wind tousled my skirt as adrenaline coursed through my veins. In that moment, I couldn't deny the wrongness of the situation, but the potential answers awaiting me made it irresistible.

Within minutes, we arrived at the colossal Roosevelt field, and Maxon sought a place to park the bike. As I gazed at the sprawling school divided into multiple blocks, with uniformed students flooding towards the front stairs, my jaw almost dropped in awe.

"This way," Maxon pointed, and I followed his lead. "What's your first class?"

It took me a moment to compose myself, my senses still overwhelmed by the grandeur of the school. "Biology," I replied, finally finding my voice.

He nodded, and we continued walking. Among the sea of white eagles, Maxon stood out like a vulture with his black attire. The curious gazes of students following us sparked uncertainty within me, but I pushed aside their judgment. I was too captivated by the sheer magnitude of the place to care about their opinions.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ventured hesitantly as we entered a long corridor.

"You're already asking one," he replied, his tone indifferent.

I pondered whether it was the right moment to ask, uncertain of how Maxon would react. But before I could overthink it, the question tumbled out of my mouth:

"Have you ever been arrested?"

His response was delayed, and he stopped in his tracks, scanning our surroundings with a guarded expression.

"Who told you that?" he inquired, his voice strained.

"Just answer my question, and I'll answer yours," I proposed casually, hoping to alleviate his tension.

He sighed, the weight of his past evident in his demeanor. "Would you be afraid of me if I said yes?" he asked, avoiding direct eye contact.

"Are you worried about that?" I scoffed, an ironic laugh escaping me. "Nothing has stopped me from being afraid of you before."

He shrugged, resuming our walk. "What was it for?" I pressed, consumed by my insatiable curiosity.

"You didn't answer my question," he retorted, his tone laced with frustration.

Resigned, I nodded. "I overheard a conversation between two girls in the bathroom at Jackson Park the other day. That girl Sasha was talking."

His jaw clenched, and a wave of seriousness washed over his face at the mention of her name. "What did she say that involved my name?" he asked, his teeth gritted.

"Nothing good," I admitted, making way for a hurried girl descending the stairs. "It seems like you're in trouble with her boyfriend. Some guy named... Tom."

"Margo, what exactly did you hear?" he demanded, his eyes brimming with concealed anger.

"She just said that you were the reason he's in jail. And that in two months, he'll be released and come after you."

"Anything else?" he inquired, his fear expertly masked by a disguised hatred burning in his gaze.

I racked my brain, struggling to recall further details. "No," I shrugged. "Damn... I don't know what you've gotten yourself into, but it seems like you're in deep shit."

He pointed towards a closed white door, indicating my classroom. I let out a long sigh, contemplating the overwhelming unknowns that lay ahead. When I turned to express my gratitude, Maxon had already moved ten steps away, striding down the corridor without looking back.

And so, as I crossed the threshold into my new classroom, I couldn't help but wonder what secrets Maxon held and how deeply they would intertwine with my own destiny.