Living With The Bad Boy [COMPLETE][VERSION ONE]

Chapter 8

I wake up with drool on my pillow and a pounding headache. It's like I'm hungover, or at least how I imagine being hungover must feel. Groaning, I roll out of bed. Honestly, I'm not sure how I fell asleep at all, what with all the cherubs glaring at me. And my... conversation with Jase. It's still so strange the way he was acting last night; as if I was a person actually worthy of his limited time. I'm sure he won't make that mistake again.

Though, as I make my bed and comb through my firey curls, there's a small part of me that hopes I was wrong about him. Hopes that underneath all the richness and arrogance he seems to enjoy, he wants to be friends with me.

Or more.

I shake my head in the mirror when I think that. Jase Turner is undoubtedly hot, but he's also undoubtedly the biggest douchebag our school has ever seen. And it would be too much of a cliche if I fell for him expecting any sort of requited feelings.  And not to mention everything he said to me that day in the cafeteria. When he called me a whore. 

It's almost like there are two different versions of Jase- the one where he actually seems like a normal person, and the one where he treats every single girl he meets like an object.

Wow. I've lived with him one day, and already I think I'm qualified to know anything about Jase?

I pull an old Dartmouth hoodie over my head, not bothering to look in the mirror. I'm not dressing for fashion today. I don't have anyone to impress.

But the thoughts, the confusion follows me out of my room, through the long hallway and down the stairs to the dining room where my mother sits next to Lizbeth, Connie, Jase, a middle-aged man and a small child, who I assume are Jase's father and brother.

To be honest, I'm a little bit confused why Mom, Connie and I, the help, are here, eating breakfast with the Turners, but I'm not about to complain. Especially when I smell the still-hot cinnamon rolls sitting in the middle of the table. I sit down across from Lizbeth, and I even manage to return the smile when she looks at me. "Sienna! I'm glad you're awake!"

"Finally," I hear Jase's father mutter to himself. "I was starting to wonder if she was even alive."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was breakfast yet," I say softly, trying to hide the blush that fills my cheeks. I notice Jase staring at me from across the table, watching this interaction, but he says nothing.

"Don't worry about it, dear," Lizbeth says, glaring at her husband and then turning around to give me a reassuring smile. "And you've already gotten ready, too. I'm impressed!"

I smile nervously, not used to having all the attention on me. "Thanks. I'm used to getting up early. Besides, if I have to walk to school, I'd rather not get there late."

Lizbeth frowns. "Walk? Why on earth would you do that? The school is over an hour away, and besides, I'm sure Jason can give you a ride!"

"Mom, no!" Jase says. "Are you kidding? There's no way in hell I'd be seen arriving to school with her."

I feel like a lead weight has just dropped on my stomach, though really, I shouldn't be surprised. This is Jase Turner, after all.

"Don't worry about it," I say to Lizbeth. "I don't mind the walk, really. And if I leave now, I won't even be late to homeroom." I don't dare to look back at Jase. I think I might cry from embarrassment if I see his stupid face one more time.

"Absolutely not," Lizbeth says, and I look back up at her. "You two are going to the exact same place. Jase, you're driving Sienna. No negotiations." Jase opens his mouth to argue but Lizbeth holds a hand up. "No. I don't want to hear another word about it."

"Thanks for the ride," I mutter sarcastically thirty minutes later, slamming the Tesla (yes, after crashing his father's Tesla, Jase Turner was given his own. How unfair is that?) door closed as I buckle the seat belt. Everything about this car screams expensive, from the soft white leather seats to the large navigation screen that looks more like an iPad than part of a car to the perfectly shiny windshield to the smell of leather. I hate it.

"Well, it's not like I really had much of a choice," Jase says bitterly, pulling me out of my mental rant. Because, right. This is all about him.

"Oh, I'm just so sorry," I tell him, my voice like ice as I curl my hand into a fist around the luxurious armrest. "It wasn't my first choice, either. I know you'll have trouble believing this, but you aren't exactly my favorite person."

I almost see a flicker of hurt across his face, and it makes me want to smile. Good. Jase needs to know that two can play this game. If he wants to be an asshole: fine. I'm not exactly gushing over him, either.

"Whatever, Red," Jase sighs, shaking his head as he turns up the radio. He stares straight ahead, past me, and I don't know why I want to reach out to him, to keep him talking, to see those blue eyes and that smirk, even if it is just him laughing at me. My heart jolts in my chest, and I swear it hurts. How does he already have this effect on me? Why does he make me dizzy and nervous like I'm about to have a heart attack? This isn't normal. This isn't a good idea. He's the biggest asshole I've ever met. So, no matter how badly I want to say something, to break this tension between us, I don't. I stare straight ahead and pretend he's not in the car with me.

The silence lasts for a lifetime of ten minutes, until I recognize the town we're in. It's only a couple more minutes to the school on the main road... but instead of turning left towards the school building in the distance, Jase takes a right onto a deserted country road, stopping the car abruptly. "Out."

I look up. "What?"

He sighs, pointing outside. "Get out of the car, Red. It'll only take you twenty minutes to walk the rest of the way to school."

I'm speechless. "You- you're kidding, right?"

Jase shakes his head, and for a second, I almost see a tiny bit of regret behind his eyes. "I'm s- I can't be seen with you driving to school. People will ask too many questions. You need to go." No, now I definitely see the regret on his face. But screw this. I don't care. "You're such an asshole!" I yell, as I shove the door open. "But fine. I don't want to spend another minute in a car with someone who doesn't think I'm good enough to show up to school with."

"Red, that's not-"

"It's Sienna," I say, slamming the door shut, my hands shaking with anger. How dare he?

He just turns up the radio louder and drives away, leaving me in the dust with 20 minutes to walk and tears falling down my face.