Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

THE BOARDERS: 24

Lo

Incredibly, I make it through the rest of the week without any dramatic run-ins with "the shithead three," as Jill has keenly nicknamed them. Between school, cross-country, homework, and long, lazy evenings spent with Jill and Spencer, I find myself too busy to ruminate over the too-hot-for-his-own-good jerk sleeping beside me in MacMillan 202 (mostly).

I've also found some solace for my continued angst over Sam through, incredibly, tennis. Spencer has decided to share some of his genius with me, taking me down to the school's courts after dinner, hitting balls at me and letting me wallop them back in his direction. I suck and Spencer's on track to go pro, but he's patient. Besides, I like the opportunity to smack the shit out of something at the end of the day. I may not have had a blowup with my least favorite people on the planet since Monday, but I'm tense as hell knowing I'm surrounded by them on all sides. Which is exactly why I'm not going to Remington's Welcome Party tonight.

Two hours after returning from the first cross-country meet of the season, I say this for the hundredth time while lying on Jill's floor with my feet kicked up onto her bed.

"Come on, Lo-Lo," Spence wheedles. "It's tradition!"

"It really is, Lo." Jill eyes me from where she blows on a set of freshly painted nails, perched on her desk chair. "Your first Saturday as a Remington student is incomplete without the annual shit-show that is the Welcome Party."

"Beth Armstrong danced up on a fourth form last year and got him so riled up he jizzed his pants," Spencer chirps.

"Ew! I don't need to be there for that!"

Jill cackles, swiping the brush over her toenails now. "It was hilarious. Poor kid."

"We'll protect you from the really rowdy stuff, Lo-Lo, promise. But you have to come."

"And if I run into Brandon? Or Sam?"

"You kick him—or both of them—in the balls and keep dancing," Spencer shrugs at the same time Jill says, "Quit being such a brat. You're coming."

"Hey! I haven't been hiding out here at all hours for nothing this week."

"No kidding. But I've noticed you haven't taken any steps to transfer into Sullivan, so I have to assume you're just trying to prove to 'shithead two' that you're serious about that apology he owes you."

My jaw drops, but Spencer grunts a laugh. Traitor. "First off, it's 'shithead one,' you know that. Second..." But what can I say? She's right. I've clocked as many hours as possible with Jill and Spence, trying to forget the feel of Sam's lip ring against my skin and reminding myself that he's a jerk in the hopes that I'll eventually believe it. But the butterflies currently taking refuge in my stomach at the mere idea of him are only multiplying.

Jill grins down at me. "I'm not saying he doesn't owe you an apology, Lo; he owes you that, plus a hell of a lot of proving it. But your pretending you're unaffected by him—while appearing pretty damn affected—clearly isn't working. Also, it's getting to be a real drag."

"Jill!" I'm stung. Sure, she's probably right that I haven't been my best self the past few days, but my life does seem to be going from bad to worse to...Sam.

"I know, I'm being a dick now too. But I'm doing it with love, because I think you need a kick in the ass to bring back the Lo that's been my best friend since middle school."

I sigh, draping a forearm over my eyes. I don't want to let Jill off the hook so easily, but she's right: a little tough love is exactly what I need.