Y/N finds herself all wrapped up in the shenanigans around the world of bad boys, or more specifically, the world of Gene.
-Set in the Pheonix Drop High time zone-
NOTE: I hate this story, but i'm leaving it up as a trophy to remind myself how far...
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High school.
Everyone has to go. Same teachers, same people, yet—very different experiences. Individual moments experienced by individual people. And, thankfully, yours had been pretty bearable for the most part.
You had a solid friend group. A few people who cared about each other deeply, and you never had to worry about betrayal, or being left out.
And it had been that way since the beginning of middle-school: around grade seven.
You were inseparable.
Everyone in the group would have to agree that you had been basically the founding member of the group. The adored person who first introduced the original two groups and forced them to mingle.
You basically forced them to be friends.
But, to be fair, it was a great call. It was as if you could see the future, and how well everyone was destined to get along.
Different friends from different parts of the school, that you thought would match. Similar tastes, comedic attributes, and interest in sports.
So, in a weird way, you were like the boss.
If you weren't with them, the boys felt out of place. Distraught. Bored. Almost as if they were a lonely village, lost without their lord.
It was sort of funny. But you appreciated having a place to call home with them all.
Though unfortunately, there had always been a rather sour relationship between you and the rest of your grade. Not everyone. Granted, there were plenty of people who smiled at you in the halls, or invited you to birthdays—stuff like that.
However, a large population was rather unfamiliar with your friendship with said boys.
Mostly, because they couldn't seem to understand how you'd managed to maintain such a close and intimate friendship with all of them. After they had tried so hard, for so long, and failed to gain access to their world.
But it was just that—you never had to try.
It flowed. It was natural.
They didn't believe that men and women could be friends without inevitably fucking it up with feelings. But you had proved them all completely wrong. For years.
The boys were indeed, the most sought-after men in the grade. Chased by every girl with a pair of eyes. Enraged by the fact that they chose to involve themselves with someone who was definitely not the most sought after woman.
The girls had no answers. So they grew to resent you.
Of course, in high-school, jealousy and resentment often turn malicious once rumours start circling. And, of course your name had its fair share of time in everyone else's mouths.
Assumptions and lies about your relationship with these boys spread like wildfire, amongst jealous girls.
Being innocent, you had no real idea as to why these girls hated you so much.
But the way they spread lies about the depth of intimacy between you and your friends—quickly painted a very tainted name for you.
A slut.
People often approached you and asked about 'what it was like to hook up with all of them at once'. Or even, what certain people 'sound like when they're finishing'.
Atrocious, and outrageous things to ask you.
It often resulted in you losing your temper, or simply walking away. But if you had one of your friends nearby, they were quick to extinguish the fire, direct your away, call out the liars.
They helped, as much as they could.
So, it could be argued that having these boys by your side was what made your high-school experience relatively good, so far.
People who truly had your back. Through thick and thin.
And no, there had never been anything intimate between you and your friends. It was wrong, and awkward when people assumed that there had been—just because of your comfortable nature around each other.
A few years back, one of the boys, Laurance, was caught red-handed, confessing his feelings for you to his best friend, Garroth.
When he turned around and noticed that you had heard what he said, the dynamic in the group changed and struggled for a few weeks.
After that, you heard nothing of it again.
And after all this time, all this maturing you had both done, you had become sure that he had gotten over those feelings. And you had gotten over the temptation to return them.
It was one thing you were adamant on not putting much thought into. Dating.
Being around boys constantly—you become uncomfortably familiar with the way boys tick. What makes them happy, what makes them sad. The red flags that they have in common, and the stuff to look out for.
It may very well be because of your close relationship with so many boys, that you never had the urge to experiment with other boys.
You didn't crave intimacy.
You had good friends. Consistent laughs. People to spend your happy days with, along with your sad.
And you were proud of how far they'd all come.
Over the years of growing up beside you, they had all developed a deep, real respect for women, emotions, honesty and your differences. They always supported you, and you were sure that—for that very reason—they were all going to one day, have long-lasting, unflawed relationships with their own partners.
And, of course the fact that nobody had really struck you as someone you'd want to involve yourself romantically with, there was no reason to search.
You had never before possessed the real desire to be with someone.
And that was all about to change.
[A/N]: welcome to my first ever story! it is currently under construction as i work to make the writing a little less TERRIBLE. the story is poor and the reading is choppy but it's my first book from 5 years ago, so you can all expect how it's gonna go. enjoy the casual reading anyway :)
