The Bad Boy ✔

Chapter Seven-I judged a book by its cover

*Song to the side kinda applies to this chapter (the second half to the ending of it)*

~Fact #5 Swag originated in the 1960s for a group of underground homosexual men. It's an acronymn for 'Secretely we are gay'~

Chapter Seven

I looked like a freak.

Well more or less a ‘freak’ for a party. I mean, you’d think that Beth was skinny and would have clothes that fit me but apparently I was proven wrong when she shoved me into a bathroom and ordered me to ‘Wash up and for the love of God, don’t you dare mess up anything in here’ before tossing me a pair of shorts that would have fitted a nine year old and a knitted sweater with a large Pug sown onto the front. I felt contradicted wearing the sweater-not only because it was from Beth who is my arch nemesis-but because I knew Juno wouldn’t have approved.

But that’s not the point.

The point was that I looked like a freak and more than normal. My hair was damp and beginning to curl like I had gotten a perm and my makeup had been washed out so that I now resembled a very bad version of Edward goddamn Cullen. Not that I had anything against Twilight or any form of hot werewolves but really, I’d rather have me a hot cup of hot chocolate watching the latest episode of ‘Two and a half men’ rather than discussing mythical creatures of girls’ wildest fantasies-take a unicorn for example, now that would make millions.

I’m still kind of surprised at how ‘nice’ or well ‘charitable’ Beth was being but I had a sneaky suspicion that it was because of Jace and I being her fellow-contestants and knowing Beth, she wouldn’t risk being ‘reported’ because of unfit behaviour towards the rest of the entrees-read being nasty to poor, short Lynn and her ‘boyfriend’ Jace. As you can see, I’m somewhat a master of digressing because how we got from describing me as a freak to unicorns and Beth being-gag-nice to me is beyond my mind.

I couldn’t thank Jane enough for rescuing Jace and I, but at the same time, I was still slightly annoyed with her too. Jace was about to spill some secret with me that I was pretty sure held the cure to his mysteriousness and well-let’s face it-why he didn’t kiss me. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out when a guy’s going to kiss you. He leans in, shuts his eyes and then you can literally feel the heat radiating off of his own lips which is a signal for your lips to part and voila! You’re smooching away into the night.

But of course I was rather very rusty in the romance department or Jace was blatantly lying to my face. And for the life of me, the latter seems somewhat more plausible. He was Jace Collins, the ultimate bad boy of Chesterville. He rode a bike, wore a jacket and had hair too long to fit into society. Jace Collins, a seriously hot guy, one with muscles and an attitude that could burn a hole into the ozone layer and most importantly, he wasn’t my type.

We were fake-dating.

The term explained it all. We couldn’t be romantically involved in reality because we were complete opposites. Jace was the kind of guy who had millions of girls falling at his feet, he played the guitar and wasn’t afraid to express his opinion to authorities. But me? Well I was short, had just one guy in love with me-Old Man Joe-and owned a fat cat who got more action than my entire lifetime. Besides, it’s pretty obvious that Jace either didn’t want a relationship-a real one I mean-with me or he was content with being a solo guy-and by solo I mean player.

But I’m overthinking things. My interests lied solely on the blonde hottie who currently was lounging in the bubbly Jacuzzi. If my life was a fashionable movie you would be able to see the hearts popping out of my head and hear the birds singing as my brown eyes lingered on the very well-muscled Brett. He was like some sort of angel from above with his golden hair and chiselled features. His blue eyes were like two orbs of sapphire that would suck you into a never-ending pool of love.