The Senior Bad Boy | ✔️

23. Benefits + Bang

"What's what like?"

"What's it like having so many expectations on you at all times, just because of who your parents are?"

He's silent for several moments and all I can hear is the distant music, whistling wind and the beating of my own heart.

"It's really tough," he says in a small voice that makes me want to climb onto his chair and kiss every ounce of hurt away. "Sometimes it feels like everyone wants something from me."

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." He gives me a quick peripheral glance, like he's deciding whether or not to open up to me. "My dad wants me to run Duende, my mom wants me and dad to get along, the Founder's Council wants me to join when I turn 18, Coach Mills wants me to consider going pro... I know most of my friends are only my friends because they want something, be it popularity or money or girls or whatever. It's fucking draining and makes you question who in your life really wants what's best for you, not what's best for them." He takes a deep, uneven breath, his hands clenching into tight fists.

My heart flutters at his honesty. I adore this part of Jayce - the real him, the side that he doesn't seem to show to anyone.

"I can't say I know how you feel," I study his face, which beholds an empty expression that absolutely breaks my heart. He's still staring up at the navy sky, which is making his tanned skin even more beautiful. "But I can say that you're one of the most talented and passionate people I know, and it would suck to see you waste that on things and people you don't care about."

He turns to face me, propping his head up on his hand, his elbow pressing into the chair. His familiar brown eyes pull me in instantly and my heart can't seem to keep itself from speeding up. "You sound like my mom," he tells me.

"You know, most girls would probably hate having a guy compare them to their mom, but it this case, I'm totally fine with it," I flash him a small smile. His mom is an angel.

He chuckles and a light breeze causes his eyes to be momentarily covered by his chocolatey curls, which he pushes aside immediately. His scent of clove and perique kisses my nostrils, carried by the fragrant autumn wind.

I don't know if I could ever get used to looking at him.

"Thanks for saying that," he offers me a warm smile that's more satisfying than the most exquisite meal on earth.

"If you feel like everyone wants something from you," I shift in my chair and pull at the hem of my dress, "Why do you act like such a player? Wouldn't you want to just blend in?"

"I don't act like a player," he says, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips. "I am a player, Tink."

I scoff and roll my eyes, "That's not normally something one would be proud of."

Jayce just shrugs, "The way I see it, when you're well-known, you can control people's perception of you, control what they see. If no one knows you, all they can do is judge you, in which case, what they think of you is completely up to them."

I'm shocked by the depth of his answer and I can't help but shiver a little. Though whether it's from the breeze or the fact that Jayce is way deeper than meets the eye, I'm not sure. "Is it so bad to be known for who you truly are, not who you want people to think you are?"

"Says the girls who pretends to be other people for a living," Jayce rebuts smoothly.

"That's completely different," I shake my head. "But people are going to judge, whether you're well-known or not. You can't control others, Jayce. I'd think you, of all people, would know that. Especially with a father like the one you've got."