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

THE BOARDERS: 24

"The first step to bringing that girl back is going to the Welcome Party?" I mutter from the ground.

"Fuck yeah it is!" Jill says at the same time Spencer lets out a whoop and begins to happy-dance. A muffled, "Jillian Ross! Language!" comes from the hallway, and we all pause for a second, glancing at each other, before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

I'm taken off guard by the Welcome Party. Based off the posters around campus, I'd expected more "ice cream social" than "sex-fueled music video" but the lights are low, the dance floor is crowded, and the faculty chaperones seem to be more or less doing their own thing. I probably should have taken Jill more seriously when she told me I'd be sweating my balls off in a pair of jeans and a tank top, but I couldn't stomach the dress she'd tried to force on me. I'm regretting that now, as my neck prickles with heat.

"See what I mean?" Jill crows, grinning cheerily at the crowd. "Tradition."

"I think I'm melting," I tell her.

She eyes me sadly. "You have much to learn, young grasshopper. First and foremost: always listen to your guru."

"I don't think that's the—"

"Shall we?" She cuts me off, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the pack of students. The music is loud, a heady, sensual R&B song I've never heard before making it almost impossible to do anything but dance along. As we cross into the sweating center of the floor though, a new song starts. Jill squeals, "Ohmigod, I love this!" before throwing her head back and dancing with abandon. Before I can move, a boy I don't know comes up behind her and takes hold of her hips. Jill lets him, moving with him to the beat. Within moments her hand is slung over the back of his neck with her throat exposed. He brings his lips to it. I watch, a little fascinated, before snapping out of it and deciding I might be best off the dance floor for the moment.

I edge to the sidelines, watching my classmates and starting up a silent game, trying to put names to the faces I recognize. It's embarrassingly difficult. It also doesn't distract me from what I'm really doing: scanning the crowd in search of my roommate. My stomach clenches when I catch sight of Jared, high fiving another cross-country kid over the girl with whom he's dancing. She looks up in annoyance at the same time I realize Sam's nowhere in the vicinity, and that—combined with the knowledge that I'm not the only one who finds Jared obnoxious—manifests in a snort of laughter.

"What's so funny?" The voice in my ear is low and teasing, and smells like liquor. All the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Of course. If he wasn't right in front of me, he'd be directly behind.

"None of your business."

Sam cocks a brow and I watch the half-light of the room catch it in my periphery. I refuse to face him straight on.

"Oh come on, roomie. Humor me."

I set my gaze steady on the group of kids dancing in front of me, telling my stomach it doesn't matter that the rings are back in; he's still a dick. My body is incredibly, infuriatingly, immune to this. "Don't call me that," I snap. "If you recall correctly, I shouldn't even be at Remington, except I blew you. Right?"

Sam lets out a long breath. He's standing too close, his body swaying just slightly, enough to brush against me. The warmth of his chest against my shoulder isn't making me as mad as it should, and that knowledge does. I take a step away, but Sam catches my hand.

"I should have told Ott to fuck off," he mutters.

"Yeah, you should have." I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of giving in. I'm not.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing, Somers."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam's answer is cut off by Spencer slamming into me from behind, glancing between us in surprise.

"Hope you're apologizing, Sam. But Lo and I are going dancing."

Spencer, too, is just that side of drunk and he smells it. "Come on," he whines when neither of us budge. "To the dancefloor!"

I duck out from under his arm. "I'll dance with you, but you need to lay off the hair. I worked hard for this beauty."

Spencer gazes at me, bleary-eyed and skeptical.

"Fine. Jill worked hard for this beauty."

His face splits into a grin. "Like it," he announces. "Le'z go, Lo-Lo."

I don't look to see if Sam's followed Spencer and me to the only spot on the crowded floor that will accommodate us. It's much warmer here, and as we start to move, sweat beads on my neck and chest. I lift my hair, running a hand over my throat.

"Don't look now," Spencer shouts over the music, "But Sam's watching you like he wants to eat you. Or tear your clothes off. Or both." He squints at something over my shoulder. "Hard to tell."

A shot of electricity courses through my body and I turn to tell Spencer to cool it when he takes my hips, pulling me toward him so that his thigh grinds between my legs. He wraps a hand tight across my lower back, the other finding the nape of my neck and drawing me to him.

"Loosen up, Lo-Lo. Get into it."

I give him a look.

"Come on," he says, his face breaking into a grin. "Dear Samuel won't know what hit him. Jealousy's always been something of a weakness of his."

"Jealousy. That's rich," I snort.

"Au contraire. Now dance, Monkey."

Spencer dips and grinds to the song, and I follow his lead, leaning away from him, tossing my hair. I close my eyes against the performance I'm putting on. I tell myself it's because I don't want to catch sight of Sam and lose my cool, but I also can't help pretending Spencer is Sam, that the hand at my back is his.

As the song ends, Spencer spins me and I turn back to the crowd, realizing with a start that Sam's nowhere to be found. Dammit. I turn to Spencer, about to ask when Sam disappeared, but he's grabbed another girl now—a cute blonde I recognize from Psychology (not the seat-kicker)—and he's spinning, dipping, and twisting her like a swing dancer. I roll my eyes and step away from the both of them, thinking I might find the edge of the dance floor again. Or perhaps I can get my hands on Jill and make an early break to the after party I keep hearing about. Everyone here seems to be drinking, and while my mother's relationship with booze has gifted me with little interest in the stuff, tonight might be the night I try it out.