Bad Boy's Not My Type

1

Chapter One:

Walking down the halls of Beechwood High I am damn well aware that I must resemble a fucking Zombie.

My dark brown naturally wavy hair is out, cascading down my back instead of up in a ponytail, the only reason for that being I actually have decided that the effort required to tie my hair up is just too much for me to handle right now. My large, dorky, white framed glasses are nowhere to be seen purely because I couldn't be bothered trying to locate them this morning. I am literally wearing the same tight white V-neck top that I slept in and in a sleep induced haze this morning I somehow managed to shimmy my legs into some tight ripped navy jeans that I'm pretty sure belonged to my old roommate from England.

This, lady's and gentlemen, is why you don't procrastinate leaving your nerd camp held in Oxford, England until the very last minute. Causing one to land back home on American soil just before midnight. The night before your first day of Senior Year.

Yup. 

I may have an IQ of over 130, but apparently, my common sense is non-existent.

So, iced coffee held firmly in one hand and a red bull in another I somehow manage to navigate my way through the bustling bodies that make up Beechwood High.

I should probably be feeling some sort of nostalgia, knowing that this is now the beginning of my final year at Beechwood High school. That after this year, the familiarity of High School will be nothing but a figment of my past.

But I don't.

The fact that my brain is barely functioning due to being severely jet-lagged and sleep deprived probably plays a huge factor in that, but also the knowledge that if I wanted I could have graduated High School as a Sophomore as well. Heck, I could have graduated as a Freshmen if I wished too. Now, I don't want to sound like I'm tooting my own horn or anything, but that's how smart I am.

Only my Dad, brothers, best friend and next door neighbor Mrs. Fahey all took a vote the day after I graduated Middle School and decided unanimously that I was not to skip years that were crucial to my teenage development just because of my very special cranium.

So I've been taking the highest level of classes available from my High School, which in all honesty isn't all too shabby considering we are one of only two High Schools in the small ass hick town, and then on top of that I have been taking college courses online via an agreement with Princeton University. I'm currently in my second unofficial year working towards a PhD in Applied and Computable Math at Princeton University. Which, if I keep on working at the pace I was working at before I went to Oxford over the Summer Break, I will have earned before I actually attend Princeton next year as a Pre-Med student. 

Yeah, once again, I'm that smart.

So I'm still in High School not because I want to be, but because the people closest to me decided that for my own social well-being I needed to be.

Fat load of good that's done.

I still have only one proper friend, my best friend Avery. I am acquaintances with several other notable nerds from my AP classes, but our relationship spans no further than exchanging study guides before particular exams. And my dating life, much to the excitement of my brothers, is just as non-existent as my social life and apparently my common sense. Although, of course, there was Cory Sa-

"EBONY!"

I'm not even given time to brace myself before a tiny body throws herself onto me. Stumbling back, I feel my now empty Ice Coffee fall out of my hands and my still full Red Bull following close behind it. But I don't care. Because probably the biggest smile to ever grace my face is currently happening as I bury my head into my best friend's tight blonde ringlets, her familiar smell of vanilla and cinnamon wafting my senses, relieving tension I wasn't even aware my body was holding.