Tutoring the Bad Boy

It's Made of Boyfriend Material ;)

A/N I hope you guys like this update and vote and comment, because it's 11:35 PM and I have an essay to write in class tomorrow.

But I still love you all anyways, and if I fail school, I'll just become an author. And eat ramen for every meal. But that's okay, because I know I'll have you guys <3

Matthew Espinosa as Mack Sanders. Seriously though, where do these guys exist in real life? Not where I'm from, that's for sure.

For your viewing pleasure, this chapter.

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*Kaitlyn MacDonald*

The doorbell rings just as I'm getting out of the shower, and I quickly wrap a towel around myself and another one around my wet hair. Just in time, too, because Beth comes barging in, as usual.

"KAITLYN!" She screams, and I wince slightly. "WE GOTTA GET READY AND GO! WHAT IF WE MISS THEM?" She shakes my shoulders for emphasis.

"Beth! Calm down! It's going to be okay!" I try and reason with her. She stops bouncing on her toes and looks at me funny, head tilted slightly to the left, eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly she grabs me and pulls me through the bathroom door into my bedroom and shoves me on the bed.

"Beth, wh-" I'm cut off by a bra and underwear set hitting me in the face.

"Put those on," Beth hisses from inside my closet. "Now!"

I grumble, but do as I'm told. "You'd think we were meeting the Queen of England for tea with the way she's going on," I say.

Beth pops her head out. "What was that? I couldn't hear you over the awful loudness of these cheetah-print pants. Why do you own these anyway?" She asks, dangling a pair of skinny jeans from her hand.

I roll my eyes and step to take them from her. "Um, first of all, you made me buy these. Second of all, it was Halloween. And we just had to go as large wild cats. I wanted to be a black panther, but oh, no! Black pants were so last season," I mock, but it just goes over her head. As usual.

"I can't hear you," she shouts, "but go turn on your hair dryer. We are leaving in 20 minutes, exact."

Twenty minutes later, I'm in Beth's car, holding on for dear life as she weaves her car through lanes of traffic. She's managed to stuff me into a pair of dark purple skinny jeans with a light gray shirt and a muted green bomber jacket. On my feet are white Converse, and my hair up in a high ponytail.

"Beth," I say. "I never even dress up this much for school. And literally everybody is at school. So why am I wearing this? Are the Big Four even going to be at the mall?"

She turns down the music, which is coming from my phone through the aux cord. "Of course, silly," she replies, right before stepping on the gas to make it through a yellow light. "Otherwise do you think I would be wearing this?" She gestures to her magenta leather jacket, silver statement necklace, and low cut white tank top.

I shrug. She has a point.

By then, we've arrived at the mall, and I notice that it's crowded as always. Beth snags a parking spot near the front, cutting off a middle-aged woman in a Honda minivan. "Beth," I chide. "That's rude."

"Sue me," she grins, hopping out of the leather seat into the 50˚F sunny weather. I've gotten slightly more adjusted to this cold spell we're having; it doesn't bother me nearly as much as it did at the beginning of October.

As we walk up to the mall entrance, I'm pleased to spot a familiar navy blue Bugatti Veyron in the parking lot. That means Drew is here, I think happily.