The Bad Boy's Toy | ✔️

O N E

"Ashley Airwood."

I smile despite the incredible dryness in my throat. I stand to smooth the back of my skirt and make my way toward the stage stairs. I keep a straight posture and walk towards my principal smiling at him, shaking his hand, and taking my award.

I look at the shiny gold trophy with the engraved metal plate spelling, Ashley Airwood Student Of The Year Award and I know I should feel the familiar swell of pride in my chest. I should feel excitement and butterflies from this hard earned achievement.

But... I don't feel anything. Absolutely nothing.

I ignore the emptiness and crack a plastic smile on my face as the crowd applauded then make my way back down the podium stairs, sitting in my seat. My mother on my left practically beaming with pride and giving my hand a squeeze. My father on my right of course giving me his famous nod of approval.

Despite the emptiness I feel, I can acknowledge my satisfaction that everything I want is pretty much on track. This is my second time winning this award and I'll continue all the way through senior year and get valedictorian. Then next summer I'll be graduating. Then North Western, my ultimate goal. Get amazing grades, take extra creds, and be at the top of my Pre-Med program. Just the thought of all the pretty little puzzle pieces that make up my life falling into their proper place makes me smile. That's definitely something I can look forward to. My perfect life.

After the ceremony ended, I told my parents I was going out for a celebratory dinner with my best friend Ryan and they both went home kissing my cheek and wishing me a fun time.

I lean against my little blue beetle taking out my phone and sending a quick text to Ryan wondering where she was.

"Hey student of the year! You bitch." I hear and my head snaps to the devil herself walking towards me as if merely saying her name summons her. Her long golden curls bounced when she walked excitedly and the lavender top she wore made her sapphire eyes pop even more than they already did.

A lot of words could describe my best friend. Popular would definitely be one. Gorgeous, no doubt. Flirty, fun, and her last name, Lockheart, might as well be her business title. She steals the hearts of everyone everywhere without even trying.

I smile and unlock my car. "Must you always use words like that?"

She snorts. "I don't know, Ash. Must you always be a pain in my ass?"

We both laugh as we climb into my beetle. "You looked so gorgeous up there! The highlights I did looked stunning." She runs her fingers through my chestnut brown hair with honey highlights done by her. She insisted I looked my best when receiving my awards. Although I've done it so many times, sometimes I consider just going up in sweatpants. Then again knowing me if I did that, I'd have a complete heart attack.

I swat Ryan's hands away and laugh softly, "Thank you and it was your work that made me look good. Now, I'm starving, celebratory dinner?"

"Forward, baby girl." She chants and I start the car excitedly, my stomach already growling.
As I'm driving out of the parking lot onto the road I feel that familiar pull on my mind. The kind that makes me look at every direction, have my hands exactly at ten and two, and be aware of the perfect pressure to apply on the peddle. Every little move has to be exactly right and perfect.

A notification ding from Ryan's phone made me come out of my deep thoughts and I suddenly realized she was talking to me. "-know him right?"

I sigh feeling bad that I wasn't listening to anything she was saying. "Sorry, say that again?"

Ryan lifts an annoyed brow but quickly smiles forgiving me right away. That's one of the things I love about her, she understands I make frequent trips to Lala land and doesn't hold a grudge against me for it. "Okay, so you know Trip Livingston, right?"

I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion."Trip, who?"

"The football player...?" She says slowly as if saying it like that would make me remember.

"Again, who?" Ryan sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. 

"Trip Livingston, Senior Quarter Back for our Varsity football team? He won the award for MVP?" She recounts, and I suddenly recall a tall, broad-shouldered, good-looking guy with raven black hair receiving the award, then holding it up as the crowd of students went ballistic.

"Oh yeah, what about him?"

She grins almost malitiously, and I instantly felt a bad idea coming on. I loved this girl to the depth of my soul, but there were times when I knew Ryan Lockheart could get me into plenty of trouble if I let her. "Well, I just told by the lovely Reyna from my volleyball team that she got a text by the QB himself saying that he's having a party tonight."

Stopping at a red light, I raise my eyebrow at her as she holds her hands up as if pausing the world for dramatic effect.

"And what Ryan, spit it out!"

"And Trip told Reyna to invite both of us!"She squeals in utter excitement as if being invited to this party was the most amazing thing to ever happen to us. Unfortunatley, I don't wear a mask well around my best friend, and she notices my famous look of hesitance. 

Ryan's excited smile drops and instantly is replaced with a look of defiance. "Oh no. Not this time. You are not getting out of this one, Ash."

"Okay, so Trip told this Reyna girl to pass on the message to us and what? We're just supposed to drop everything and go?"

"Ashley c' mon! I mean, we can still have our celebratory dinner as long as we finish in time to paaaartaay," she says and does a little dance as I pull up to our favorite restaurant  Marty's.

This resteraunt has so many memories. We've been coming to this place since our feet were barely long enough to touch the ground in these old red leather cushioned chairs. It was an old style mom and pop Italian resteraunt, so local and small that you can taste the love in every single bite. Once we're seated, I glance up over my menu and notice Ryan distracted by hers. I chew on my bottom lip nervously. "Ryan.... about this party...." I began and she sighs closing her menu mumbling, "I knew you wouldn't go down without a fight."

"It's just you know parties aren't my thing. Good things never happen at them. Not only that, but tonight I have to watch Sam and get ahead on a paper. I have responsibilities and my parents are counting on me. "

Her lips part in disbelief and she scoffs. "You're an 18-year-old high school student that has amazing grades, perfect attendance, and countless awards. You are always watching Sam! Which I personally think is kind of ridiculous because what thirteen-year-old needs a babysitter?"

She reaches for my hand and looks at me almost pleadingly. "Ash, I really think this party is a good thing for you. It will create some great last-minute High School memories before we graduate! And it will help you loosen up. You've worked so hard to get to where you are, I just don't want us to graduate without saying we had crazy fun being regular reckless teenagers."

I slump feeling a pang in my chest. This was always something that we went back and forth on like an old married couple. Why can't she understand?  I mean, what if someone brought drugs? Alcohol? If someone spiked the punch and I'd drink it on accident? I wouldn't know what to do. Yes, maybe I'm overreacting, but can you blame me?

I've never done this kind of thing before and I have no idea what to expect. Also, just because Sam is thirteen doesn't mean he should be left home alone. I mean, who would make him dinner? He doesn't know how to cook. He'd most likely burn the house down, and my parents would kill us. Kill me.

Just thinking this over made me nervous, "Ryan, I just can't. I have a lot to do, a-and I would feel out of place anyway. If something happened," I shake my head playing with the corner of my menu.

Dissapointment blooms in her eyes and she slides her hand away from mine. She grabs her purse standing out of her chair and I honestly I can't believe she's reacting like this. "Ash, I love you, you're my best friend. But sometimes being the perfect good girl isn't what's good for you," she stands up and puts her purse on her shoulder, "Tonight you may have won that trophy, but you're losing at life." She grabs her phone off the table, "Call me when you're ready to win." And with that, she turns and walks right out of Marty's front door.

What just happened?