Badboy, His Secrets and My Heart

 •••••• Scarlett ••••••      They say that the act of ignoring is better than hatred.     That's what I was doing.     Ignoring.     Slam!     After zipping my backpack, I shut the locker door balancing the caramel frappe on my left hand.     "Scar!" That fucker.     Pardon my French.     A couple of sophomores turned back and looked in the direction my name was being called. Raising my eyebrows at them, I ignored the person calling me and made my way to my homeroom.     "Scar!" A hand grabbed my elbow spinning me around, to face him. "I was calling you all the way," he said matter-of-factly. "Are you stupid or stupid? Of course, I heard. I have perfectly functioning ears," I replied , shrugging his arms off me and continued walking.     "Are you ignoring me or what?" he asked me almost whining. "No s**t, Sherlock. By the way, were you dropped on your head or something? Because if a person walks away when they hear their name being called, it means they don't want to talk," I stated rolling my eyes.     "Scar, please listen to me. Look, I'm really sorry about last night-"     "Save your energy, Logan Evans. I really don't need your explanations. Go spit them out to some pathetic scumbag. You know what, I clearly don't give a flying fluff. Screw you!" I barged past him, hitting him in his shoulder.     Damn him and his rock shoulder! It hurt me more.     As I head into my homeroom, I rubbed my shoulder unconsciously. "Hey Scar!" Ciara waved at me as I entered the room. I slumped down in the chair next to her sighing, "Hey Ci..."     Ciara Russell. Her dark brown hair, black eyes and an hourglass figure that had guys and girls likewise swooning over her. A pretty much soft spoken and shy girl like a pair of fluffy sunshine pants until you actually get to know the butt nugget.     "Are you alright?" she raised her eyebrows tentatively. "Well, I don't have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel right now," I replied taking my backpack off.     "What happened?" She asked me, her dark eyes twinkling beneath her thick, yet shaped eyebrows. "Logan happened," I shrugged handing her the caramel frappe.     "Is this about last nigh-?" "Yep," I said nodding, before she finished her statement. She chuckled softly, fixing the top of her baby blue cardigan, sipping occasionally from her frappe. "You need to go easy on him, Scar... poor Lo," she heaved rolling her eyes. "Go easy on him? Seriously Ciara? After what he did last night. It's a shame that I looked at his sorry face today," I huffed.     "Someone's in a bad mood today. Ooh! Is it your shark week?" A voice interrupted us both. Al settled on my left grinning.     Althea Perez was the badass of us all. Her leather jacket, punk ripped jeans, and leather ankle boots said it all. Her flowing raven hair, deep blue eyes, naturally tanned skin, an etched cocky smirk on her full lips and her well toned abs screamed dangerous. And after all these years, I really didn't know how she settled with us, a couple of nerds for best friends.     "Shut up, Al," I glared at her.     "It's now official that Aunt Flo has indeed visited the Scarlett Brianna Mitchell," she snorted. I rolled my eyes at her.     "Are you really pissed off at Logan or are you annoyed at your blundering hangover?" She asked me as I doodled an eye on the corner my notebook. "Logan?" I shrugged stating as if it's the obvious. "Really?" She raised her eyebrows. "Come on, Scar. I'll give another chance. Logan or hangover?"     "Hangover," I sighed defeated, putting my head in my hands.     Both Ciara and Al chuckled at me, shaking their heads. "And you know the worst?" I told them, "I couldn't find aspirin anywhere!" Al face palms at my statement as Ciara reached for her back pack and handed me some aspirin, which I took gratefully.     "Well you should've asked her instead of grilling Logan in the mid of the hallway," Al commented. News really did travel fast. "Hey, that doesn't mean I'm not angry with him," I shook my head narrowing my eyes, "That baboon left me all alone at that awful party yesterday night. Also for some random chica who was literally eating his face. Ugh. Gross. He knew he was my ride."     "Chill, Scar," Ciara looked at me. I knew I was overreacting but hey, I've got someone hammering the inside of my skull. I couldn't think properly, of course. Al picked at the sleeve of my pleated forest green wrap top, as I pulled my book out.     I shrugged and started going through my highlighted points and flashcards, preparing for the chemistry quiz. Ciara did the same, while Al tapped away in her phone occasionally annoying Ciara, who gave up the attempt of studying and shut her book close.     "Scar..." I looked up to Logan's handsome face peering at me. I too shut my book knowing that I wouldn't  be able to concentrate anymore. Since he's here now. He kneeled in front of me, bringing his face to my level. Chocolate brown eyes gazed into mine as I averted my gaze away.     "I'm sorry," he said. No, he pleaded. "Please don't ignore me. It won't happen again, I swear. It's a Kit Kat promise," he uttered holding out a Kit Kat bar.     Now, that was truce between us. Ever since we were four. Ever since he moved next door to me. Ever since he came over to invite my family for a dinner at his house. Ever since he gave me his favorite bicycle for a ride. And ever since I scraped my knee falling off it.     Whenever one of us was angry or sad at someone or something, let it be even one of us, the other gave a chocolate bar to the person. And the person has to apologize, forgive or spill everything to the other. Accepting the chocolate meant we were all on good terms. Specifically a Kit Kat because it was a favorite of both of us. It became our Kit Kat promise. Alright, that probably sounded like a Kit Kat commercial.     And right now, I couldn't say no to his puppy dog eyes or his cutest pout or the Kit Kat bar gleaming in all its goodness in front of me.     I plucked it out of his hands and ripped off the wrapper in one go.     As I bring it closer to devour it, he snatched it out of my grasp. "Princess, I'm the priority here," he said looking sinister. "Fine, fine," I huffed, "Apology accepted, you i***t. Now give me my chocolate."     "Aha, not before I do this," he smirked wiggling his eyebrows and bit a hunk out of the bar. This meant war, Evans. I lunged at him and both of us ended up on the floor. Me on top of him.     Ciara pulled me off him as Al grabbed the chocolate from his hands and finished it in one go. That witch! All three of us scowled at her while she put on her signature smirk.     "I swear I'll get you back, Althea Perez," I glared at her. "Scratch the 'I' off. It's we. We'll get you back Perez," Logan said scowling at her.     "And princess, I know I'm hot. But it would be really good if you could get off me, everyone's staring, you know?" He smirked at me.     "Bastard," I muttered getting up. He got up chuckling and then stretched his arms. His biceps and six pack flexed. A couple of blondes nearby almost drooled and reapplied a coat of crimson matte lipstick.     Ew. "Ew."     I grinned at Al who voiced out my thoughts out aloud.     "Oh my god, girl you weigh like a megaton." I rolled my eyes at him and elbowed him in the stomach. He mock howled over in pain and sat behind me as Mr. Varner entered the room.     He had a I-don't-want-to-be-here expression etched on his face. Trust me, Mr. Varner you are not alone.     Just as he had begun to speak, the daily announcements began so he closed his mouth in defeat. All of us silently snickered. This always happened to him.     "Good morning Birchmont High! Today is September 4th, 2019," Mr. Morris' voice blared out of the speakers as all of us visibly cringed at the frequency.     "Football trials for the new team will be on September 10th, please sign your name up at the office if interested. The school Decathlon club is taking in new members. Contact the office for details. Auditions for the Drama club will be on..."     It went on and on, I quitted listening and continued reading my notes. Suddenly a weight dropped on my shoulder, startling me and I gasped just to realize it was Al, the sleepyhead.     I pinched her thigh little bit harder as she jolts up with a yelp. "Kill the piglets. Kill them," she screamed before becoming aware of her surroundings.     The whole class doubled over as Mr. Varner shook his balding head disapprovingly. Al pointedly glared at me before sitting down. Logan kept laughing, not even bothering to be quiet. "Seriously Perez? Piglets?"     The announcements finally ended after Mr. Varner yelled at some guys at the back to wake up. "Alright class, so we'll be-" "Excuse me, Mr. Varner?" A red headed freshman entered the room. Mr. Varner sighed exasperatedly and motioned for the boy to come in.     The boy scurried in and handed the teacher a slip. His eyes wandered through the room aimlessly.     "Ms. Mitchell?" Mr. Varner called out. My eyes rose up to his. "You're wanted in the principal's office. Now."     Me? What for?     Every single head in the room turned to me as if they've never seen me before. Peasants, I've been in your class for like ten years!     I got up shutting up my book and excused myself from the teacher, leaving the room. Worried eyes of Logan, Al and Ci met mine. I reassured them with a forced smile. Their worry was not mistaken. I've never been called to the principal's office during a class ever before. It was always Al. Al for all the criminal stuff and swimming and sometimes Logan for football stuff. But never me.     The red head parted from me at a corridor frightened. What the marshmallow fluff?     Ms. Jansz at the front desk gave me warm smile, nodding at me. She motioned me to walk in too. I headed to the principal's office and opened Mr. Morris' door without knocking. God knows why he hated people who knocked.     With my eyes on the marbled floor, I ran into a wall. Who the hell built a wall just behind a door?     Wait, what? A wall?     I looked up to be met with the most beautiful, bright and candid pair of hazel eyes. The wall seemed to be the well defined torso of a guy who had me in his arms.     The guy's features were striking.     His aura radiated warmth but a tinge of danger as well which engulfed me. It suggested something inviting and risky. A risk I was willing to indulge in for the Adonis in front of me.     The depth of hazel eyes with a slight tingle of green amidst were alluring. The eyes which made me weak in the knees. Dark brown hair, a razor sharp jaw and pale pink soft lips. My palms on his biceps acknowledged their sturdiness. He was very enticing and his voice was low pitched as he asked me something, my dumb brain failed to process.     The guy let go of me instantly. Breaking out of my reverie, I stood myself straight as his arms left me. His voice was deep and collected as he apologized. "No, it's fine. It was my fault," I assured him as my eyes fixed to the black swirl of ink curling at the nape of his neck.     He noticed my gaze and quickly adjusted his shirt's collar over it.     "Ah, Ms. Mitchell!" Mr. Morris' voice pulled us both apart as we turned to him. He motioned us both to sit down on the seats opposite to him. My fingers were clamped together sweatily as I sat down. My insides twisted in an unpleasant way.     "Ms. Mitchell, this is Ethan Torres, a transfer to our college. Senior year," he nodded to the guy next to me. I directed a small smile at the guy who gives me a pursed lip smile in return.     Senior year? Transfers during senior year was rare but not unheard of. But why was he telling me these? I'm not part of the welcoming committee. None of the seniors are!     "As you are well aware that we do not have a senior welcoming committee, I thought you would be able to help him out. You know, be his guide," he told tilting his head to the right.     Oh, that's cool. Wait, what?     He continued without waiting for my reply, "Help him around for the first two weeks until he gets used to being here. I'm sure that would be fine considering your excellent performance in both your academics and extracurricular."     Not knowing whether it was a compliment or just a statement, I flushed.     "So... Are you up for the job?" His tone was suggestive but his expression and demeanor said otherwise.     "Of course, sir. I'll help. Definitely," I assured him. I was sure that if my friends saw me now they would definitely say that I was the teacher's pet goody two shoes type of student, which I guess I was.     Mr. Morris turned to the guy, "Mr. Torres, this Scarlett Mitchell, one of our brightest. She will be helping you out for your first few weeks. Hoping that'll go well because your schedule has been altered similar to hers. I will pass on your file to Mr. Varner, your homeroom teacher. Will that be it?"     Jeez. Why on earth was I nervous?     "Yes, sir. Thank you," he politely said, extending his hand which was accepted by Mr. Morris. A strong handshake. One of my serious weaknesses.     Both of us headed out of the office, him playing with his backpack strap and me pulling at my ombré waves. "Ms. Mitchell!"     Ms. Jansz speed walks to us with a Manila folder in her hand. "This contains your schedule, attendance slips, lunch tickets, locker combination and the school map," she said to Mr. Torres holding the folder up. I mean, Ethan. Ugh!     "But," she paused, "I'll be giving this to her," she points at me, "because she'll be helping you out." She thrusted the Manila folder into my arms and waited for a reaction from us. Both of us nodded awkwardly at her at which she turned and headed back to her office, her platforms clucking on the marble floor. Both of us stood awkwardly not knowing what to do as my dumb brain processed the fact that I should probably initiate a convo.     "Um so... Hey, I'm Scarlett," I said extending my hand and putting on my friendliest smile. He blinked twice as he took mine slowly into his. "I'm Ethan." Oh no! Physical proximity alert!     "Okay, so," I began with a deep breath, opening the Manila folder in my hand. He heaved his bag up on his shoulder more, scrunching his forehead softly. It was uber cute. He leaned in to check his schedule over my shoulder. The proximity was evident as his breath warmed my neck.     "Erm, this is your schedule and you've got AP physics next," I cleared my throat, scanning the piece of paper. Well he didn't look like an AP student. I guess looks don't matter but with looks like his...     Checking the time on my phone I looked back at him.  "We have ten minutes more for the bell. So what about us going to your locker, dump your stuff and go to class. I'll show you around here during the second period which is free for you and me."     "Sure," he said shrugging at me and ran a hand through his messy hair making it more messier. And him more edible. Ugh! Why was I drooling over a guy I just met? **     "219, 220, 221 and 222. This is your locker," I pointed at it and hunted for the scratch card in the folder. "Here you go," I handed him the card. An electricity jolted through me as our fingers touched.     "Scar!"     What's it with people yelling my name all day?     "Hey Em," I smiled at her as she hugged me. "Ball practice sucked. Coach roasted us in and out," she groaned opening her locker next to Ethan's. "I heard that someone was cranky during home room. Who pissed in your Cheerios?," she winked at me pulling out her textbooks.     "Ahh, I also heard that somebody might need to shut up."     "Chill, girl." "Hey Em!" Ciara waved coming over.     "Al! You all still going to Rao's party tonight?"     "Yup," Al nodded, popping the 'p'. "Nah, I got to be with my parents today. It's our family's night out," Ciara shrugged as I shook my head too. "Seriously, Scar?" Em eyed me up and down, squinting her eyes on me. "Nah, I've got this bad hangover and I-. You know what? I'll think about it." She nodded unconvinced at my reply.     "Anyways, where're my stuff? My bag and books," I looked around at my best friends who looked elsewhere. "They're with Logan. He said he'll bring them," Ciara chimed in as I nodded back at her. Her eyes widened slightly as they shifted behind me. She looked at me and turned again.     Oh s**t! I forgot Ethan!     I saw him checking his phone, leaning on his locker. I walked to him, "Are you done?" "Yeah," he nodded. I could say that he had been done for a while but I respected his idea of not grilling me. "Come on," I urged him to follow me. "These are my friends," I flourished my right hand at besties, now looking at me as if I had grown another head.     "Guys, this is Ethan, a transfer to our batch whom I have to guide for about two weeks. Ethan, this is Emily, Althea and Ciara," I introduced them, trying to ease the awkwardness by grinning nervously. "Um, it's Al. Just Al," Al corrected me, eyeing Ethan scrutinizingly.     "Hey Al," he nodded politely towards her and gave a small smile to the others also. "Hi! You're welcome to sit with us at lunch," Ciara offered sweetly, beaming, to which Al glared at her.     "What? Scar, is going to be showing him around. He'll love sitting with us too," Ciara explained, with her unspoken statement hanging in the air. "We can't leave Scar to fend for herself. Poor Scar!" But I think it'll be more like, 'Poor guy' at the end.     "Guys, both Al and I got History now, we really got to get moving. Mrs. Rob won't be pleased if we're late. And if she is not pleased she'll be a real PITA," Emily broke the silence linking her arm through Al's. Some freshmen jocks came running down the hallway, and bumped into Ethan, who knocked me as his books fell down thudding.     Both of us bended down to pick the books, but ended up hitting our foreheads. Groaning at the pain simultaneously, we both got up. I handed him back some of his books as he apologized.     Our hands touched briefly and the same electricity passed through me. His pupils dilated and his eyes darkened as our gazes locked. "Hey babe!" A sturdy arm slipped around my waist pulling me to a very strong physique.     "I've got your books and bag," Logan chuckled at me. His carefree, too sweet demeanor twisted into a scorn filled little scowl as his eyes met with the most mesmerizing hazel ones I've ever met. The corners of Ethan's eyes too hardened but his smile didn't waver.     The air was thick with unspoken tension.     "Logan, this is Ethan, a new transfer to our year. And Ethan, this is my friend. My best friend," I introduced them, trying to ease the tension. I thought I might've seen Logan's scowl deepen for a millisecond, but his face turned impassive and stolid soon. The other extended a hand politely, with his smile morphed into a smug smirk, "Ethan." Logan unwrapped his arm around me agonizingly slowly. Ethan's hand was accepted courteously with a nod, "Logan." Clenched jaws?     Christ Jesus! What the hell was happening?     "Yo, man! Logan, you comin'?" A voice cracked the tension. Daniel Hawthorn. Inky black hair, sea-blue eyes, a body which girls and guys drooled over alike, infamous for incredibility in bed, the typical jock of Birchmont High. Football player. Logan's friend. A guy I hated to the marrow of my bones.     Logan snapped out of the trance with a slight nod. With a short impassive gaze that swept past me, he stormed up to Dan, whose eyes skimmed me top to bottom stalling at my assets.     I shunned him with a glare and turned my back to him, with the finger up in the air.     Al and Em left for history as I dumped some of my books in my locker and took out my physics ones. Ciara set off to Music as both, Ethan and I headed to Physics. **     "And this," I nodded towards, "is our library." He nodded, peaking in it and withdrawing soon, "I'll check it out later." His tone was promising. "You're a reader?" I asked confused, my voice laced with disbelief. "And how exactly is that shocking?" He asked back, c*****g his head to a side.     I flushed at his words. "Nah, didn't take you for a reader.." "Well. Surprise, surprise then. Leo Tolstoy thinks different."     Tolstoy? Who knew this guy had a taste of Anna Karenina probably? Surprise indeed.