The Badboys' Good Lips

2

c h a p t e r 2
tw: IPV

I couldn't stop staring.

I'm not sure if he knew that I was staring at him or not, but with the burning sensation of my eyes on the back of his head, it was hard not to notice.

It's not like he was doing anything that would attract my attention, particularly. He was just sitting at a classroom desk, waiting for the time to tick by while the teacher ran out to 'use the washroom'. Obviously he wasn't coming back anytime soon, which was clear to the both of us.

And there were other things in the empty classroom that I could be staring at as well. Like the high ceilings and skylights, or the rows of chairs and tables in this lecture hall. Just because he was the only other human being in the room, didn't mean that he required any of my attention at all.

I was still staring.

My head pounded with the ache from last night. In hindsight, it was quite idiotic of Zoey and me to go out and party last night when we had classes the next afternoon. But I was mostly thankful that it was now Friday.

I watched the boy with curious eyes as he huffed, his breath breaking the pin-drop silence of the classroom and he finally decided to turn around in his seat, his narrowed eyes settling on the figure five desks behind him and three desks to the right.

Me.

"Can I help you with something?"

He held my gaze and, if it were possible, stared at me harder. His eyes were intense and I straightened my posture and gave him a small smile, attempting to brush off the fact that he had very well caught me staring at him. For a brief second I thought he looked familiar but when I didn't answer him, he spoke again.

"Why the fuck are you staring at me?"

I blinked at the harshness of his words but upped the wattage of my smile. For some reason, a sense of deja vu was hitting me hard, yet I couldn't quite place why. "I... Do I know you?"

He scowled. I'm not sure what it exactly was that I wanted from him, or what it was about him in general. Or what it was that I was trying to accomplish from speaking to him at all. Maybe it was the remaining alcohol in my system because I had gotten quite good at not talking to other guys or bothering anyone at all. However, with this boy I took my time to study his features, seeing similarities between him and someone I've seen before. Striking similarities.

"You've been staring at me for the past 10 minutes," His glare deepened as he scrutinized my face. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything," I shrugged smally, seeming to have irritated him more. "You just look like someone I know."

His eyes narrowed further. "I don't care. Stop fucking staring at me."

Again, I blinked at his brazenness. "I'm sorry if I've upset you. That wasn't my intention." I repositioned the flimsy scarf around my neck to occupy my nervous hands, making sure that it was covering the only visible evidence of what I had done last night. I continued on. "How about we start over? I'm Mae."

The boy sitting in front of me didn't let up on his narrowed gaze but I did notice them flicker over my face before he clenched his fists. "I know who you are."

My eyes widened a fraction in shock. "You do?"

"Uh-huh," the boy rolled his eyes, taking my shock as pride. "You date that asshole, Cole."

The mention of my boyfriend's—as of this morning—name caused a shiver to travel up my spine, especially at the tone this guy used when he spoke it. There was disdain there for sure, as well as something else. Did this guy know Cole? Were they not on good terms?