Rage With Benefits

Chapter 4: Twice a...

He stared helplessly at himself in the mirror. "Yup, therapy. I need therapy."

Pushing the grim thought of a probable mental illness away, Ian didn't bother to pass by the kitchen for a quick breakfast seeing as his mom had no plans of vacating the premises. He immediately slipped through the window closest to him with his bag, careful not to land on the stash of wood paint Olivia kept outside.

He ran heavy footsteps from his house to the campus, tripped thrice, bumped into angry pedestrians repeatedly, and almost got involved with an occurring street fight on the way.

Still, despite all the cruel effort, Ian arrived at school panting and sweaty and half an hour early for the second subject.

He then realized he'd been such a dumbass. He should've taken the bus.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry," he apologized to his classmates who stared quietly at his pitiful state as he made his way to his assigned seat. Mr. Corbyn gave him a disapproving look when his ass made contact with the chair with a loud thump, startling a few. Ian let out a tired sigh as he leaned back to his seat. Mr. Corbyn didn't bother to reprimand him and physics thankfully went as smooth and confusing as it usually does from there.

Well, almost.

"You're late," Bryce whispered from behind making him groan. He forgot the nutsack was in his class.

"I know."

"You're never late."

"I am aware."

"You hate being late."

"One of the perks of being me is knowing me, Bryce."

Ian felt stupid thinking that the conversation was over.

"Then why are you late?"

He dropped his pencil in annoyance and turned around but stopped the second he met eyes with the boy. Ian noticed he wasn't wearing his usual fuck boy attire today. In fact, he looked decent. Surprisingly, Bryce didn't look ridiculous when he has his blonde hair down and to add, he looked absolutely stunning in a v-neck black shirt and dark grey jeans.

Ian looked away, brows furrowed. Did he just say 'stunning'?

No. This day has already been weird enough as it is.

Bryce smirked at his reaction. "Sorry, didn't feel like dressing up."

"I don't care," Ian bit the insides of his cheek as he turned away. "Just let it go, okay? It doesn't concern you."

Except that it does, very much and Ian knows that too well.

He hates it.

Much to his remaining luck for the day, Mr. Corbyn caught them talking which to any professor with eyes is an act of a life-threatening rebellion.

"Do you boys mind? I'm kind of in the middle of my job here," he called out.

Bryce and Ian spoke at the same time but unlike their mouths, their thoughts weren't in sync.

"No, sir, I'm sorry." "And you're boring us all so you're welcome."

The room went silent.