Dancing With Danger ➵Tyrus (COMPLETE)

Prologue

I glance up at the clock for what seems like the hundredth time that morning. 9:14 am. I groan inwardly, fighting to keep my eyes open as Ms. Medlock drones on about World War II. I've heard it all before; they tried to kill us off, we survived, they're really sorry. I'm not a bad student--far from it--I just know this stuff already.

My lids start to get heavier when I hear a thump come from the classroom door, alarming me. Ms. Medlock stops lecturing and hurries over to the door, smiling widely, ready to welcome whoever is interrupting her lesson. In steps a tall blonde boy, presumably my age. His hair is stiff with gel and he's dressed all in...black. He wears a leather jacket covered in patches, and has a motorcycle helmet in his grasp. As he steps further into the room, I can see that some of the patches on his jacket have obscene pictures and words on them. One of them is literally just a skeleton hand raising its middle finger; how did he get past Principal Metcalf wearing this?

Ms. Medlock is introducing the boy to the class; his name is TJ Kippen. She asks him questions about where he's from and the activities he enjoys, but he keeps waving her off and rolling his eyes. He's definitely not a very inviting presence, and I silently will Ms. Medlock to stop pestering him.

I'm wide awake by now, studying the boy's face and closed-off body language. With his arms folded like this, he looks intimidating for sure, but something about him is undeniably striking. I find myself sinking further into my thoughts and drifting into a daydream when something--a person--plops into the seat next to mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray that it isn't...

"-TJ Kippen," Ms. Medlock clicks. "You'll be sitting here by Cyrus Goodman for the rest of the semester, so get comfortable. I think Cyrus will be very good for...you." TJ gives her a rueful smirk and she walks away before I can protest. Why, why, why would she stick an attractive straight guy next to me? TJ leans in real close towards my side of the desk and I can smell his cologne mixed with the old leather smell of his jacket; his scent has me reeling. When I finally decide to glance over his way, I notice the chipped black nail polish that crowns his fingernails. I can't help but smile at this; Buffy and Andi love painting my nails when I let them. Of course, I'm more of a sky blue or indigo guy myself. "So," TJ starts, startling me out of my staring. "Is Goodman really your last name?" I silently nod at him, slowly bringing my head up to look him in the eyes. I immediately wish I hadn't, because the emerald hue of his eyes and the way he looks into my eyes cause a burning sensation to occur deep in my stomach. Our eyes lock for what feels like forever, until TJ gasps and and breaks his gaze. I squirm in my seat for the rest of class, unsure of what that unspoken moment was or if it even was a moment.

One thing is for sure: this boy is nothing but danger, and I need to stay away.