The Badboy
I hate two things the most: social gatherings and Valentine Reed.
Right now, I’m minding my own business, trying to do some last-minute reading as I walk through the halls of Oakwood High. My small frame feels even smaller as I angle my body to avoid bumping into people.
“Watch it, bookworm!” a gruff voice snaps, just as a broad shoulder crashes into mine, nearly knocking my book from my hands.
My cheeks burn as I clutch the book tighter, my gaze glued to the floor. “S-sorry,” I mumble.
“Stop looking at the floor and apologize to my face,” the voice growls, and I glance up, meeting Valentine Reed’s dark brown eyes.
“Sorry,” I repeat, a little firmer this time.
Valentine smirks. “That’s better. Now scoot along, princess.”
Arrogant little shi-.
I quickly move away, heading to my locker. While putting my book away, I overhear a group of girls talking nearby. Their perfectly styled hair and designer clothes make me feel even more out of place in my thrift store sweater and ponytail.
Yes, I know I’m rich and could easily buy clothes like theirs. But why would I want to stand out? That’s the last thing I need.
“Did you see Valentine just now?” one of the girls squeals. “I swear he winked at me!”
Ew.
“As if,” another girl laughs. “He totally has eyes for Brittany.”
I sneak a glance at them, feeling that familiar ache in my chest. What’s it like, I wonder, to have friends to gossip with? To feel like you belong?
One of the girls—Emily, I think—catches me looking and raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Can I help you?” she asks, her voice dripping with disdain.
My throat goes dry. “N-no, I was just…”
Emily rolls her eyes, flipping her hair as she turns back to her friends. “Anyway, as I was saying…”
Their laughter follows me as I fumble with my locker combination, willing myself to disappear.
When I finally slip into class, I head straight to the back row, keeping my head down. I always sit here. It’s safer. No one asks questions. No one knows who I am—or who my father is.
“Did you see Valentine’s new car?” a girl with bouncy curls gushes. “It’s so hot!”
“Not as hot as he is,” her friend giggles.
I roll my eyes. Why are they so obsessed with him? It’s like no other guy exists.
“I wonder why she always sits alone,” someone whispers nearby.
I feel my ears burn, knowing they’re talking about me now. I pretend not to hear them, keeping my eyes on my book. This is safer. Easier. No expectations, no disappointments.
As the teacher drones on about algebra, I suddenly feel someone watching me. Glancing up, I catch Emma Chen, the class president, staring at me. Her expression is way too intense for my liking, and I squirm in my seat.
What’s her deal?
Before I can figure it out, Valentine Reed walks in, leather jacket and all. His eyes lock on me for a split second, and I immediately look away.
“Mr. Reed, you’re late,” Mrs. Hawthorne says, glaring at him.
Valentine flashes a cocky grin. “Sorry, Mrs. Hawthorne. Had to save a kitten stuck in a tree on my way here. Couldn’t ignore a damsel in distress, right?”
The class bursts into laughter, and even Mrs. Hawthorne cracks a smile before sighing. “Just take your seat, Valentine.”
I roll my eyes again, trying to ignore the way my skin prickles as Valentine passes by. His stupid cologne, his stupid jacket, his stupid smirk—why am I so aware of him?
He takes the seat behind me, and I feel his presence like a weight pressing down on my thoughts.
“Mrs. Hawthorne, can we go over the homework again?” Emma Chen asks, raising her hand. “Some of us had trouble with question five.”
Valentine leans forward, his breath warm against my neck. “Hey, Blackwood. You free after school?”
My heart skips a beat, but I keep my voice steady. “I’m busy, Valentine.”
He leans closer, almost into my space. “Aw, come on, Blackwood. Don’t you ever take a break from being so… perfect?”
I meet his gaze, my pulse racing but my face calm. “Some of us actually care about our futures.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “You think you’re better than the rest of us, don’t you?”
I gather my things and stand. “I don’t think anything, Valentine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to focus on the lesson.”
For a second, his smirk falters, but then it’s back. “Sure thing, princess,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
I sit down, heart pounding in my chest. I hate how easily he gets under my skin. Everything’s a game to him, and I refuse to be a part of it.
I bury myself back in my notes, trying to focus on something that makes sense. Algebra makes sense. Valentine Reed doesn’t.
The rest of the class goes by in a blur, but I can still feel Valentine behind me, his lazy posture and smug confidence invading my thoughts. When the bell finally rings, I quickly gather my things, ready to escape.
Before I can leave, Valentine’s already standing, blocking my path. “Let me walk you to your next class, Blackwood,” he says with that infuriating grin. “Consider it my good deed for the day.”
I sigh, my patience wearing thin. “I can manage on my own.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he says smoothly. “But where’s the fun in that?”
“Valentine,” I say, my voice low with warning. “Leave me alone.”
For a split second, something dark flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can be sure.
“Whatever you say, princess,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Catch you later.”
