Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

THE BOARDERS: 26

Sam

The party's going full force, and I have to shove my way through clusters of people to get to the fridge for a beer. I decide to nurse it and lean against the counter, surveying the action. I'm not sure how long I've been there when a familiar flash of dark hair swings into my vision. Somers, grabbing two longneck bottles from the fridge. Without thinking, I sidle over, nudging my arm against hers.

"What do you want?" She asks, eyes narrowed. Immediately, adrenaline courses through my veins. I've been itching to spar with her for days.

"'The fuck have you been?" I ask. It comes out slurred; even I hear it.

"Here," she snaps. "Not that it's any of your business."

"You still sleeping out tonight?" I know full well she's planning to spend the weekend at Jill's, but I allow a note of accusation into my voice, knowing she'll bristle. (Let me say this again: I am an asshole. I know, okay? The liquor doesn't help.)

"I'll sleep wherever I want for as long as I want."

"But you know you belong in my room." I mean it to sound suggestive, but it comes out needy, even to my own ears. I try to balance it by taking a step toward where she stands, one hip leaned against the counter, one foot pivoted for a quick getaway. She watches me warily, trying to determine where I'm going with this.

I nudge her a second time, the adrenaline/liquor combination taking on a voice of its own. "I miss you, Roomie. Come home tonight."

"Go away, Sam."

But I don't. I want to talk to her. I say as much.

"Unless you're apologizing, we don't have anything to talk about."

I'm confused for a moment, my brain spinning to catch up with my mouth. Unfortunately, I'm speaking before it does. "Apologizing?" I ask. "You looked perfectly happy chatting with Weaver tonight."

"Not sure how that has anything to do with you telling everyone I slept with you to keep my admission," she snaps, irritation flashing in her eyes.

"I didn't tell anyone that."

"Oh really? Brandon just pulled it out of thin air and expected you to back him with no context?"

I work my jaw, annoyed. That's exactly what he did, but no way in hell is Somers going to believe it. She nods, her teeth gripping her lower lip hard. I want to lean in, slide the pad of my thumb over her perfect mouth. I start to do it, but she steps back, holding a hand firmly against my chest.

"Let's get one thing straight, Sam. We may be stuck together, and I may have had a momentary loss of brain function when you touched me with that stupid piece of metal in your mouth last week, but I'm not a doormat. You don't get to spread lies about me like that, then get all flirty and smirk-y and think I'm just going to give it up to you. And you don't get to pretend like we're friendly when you have so clearly decided whose side you're on."

She's flushed, her eyes bright with conviction and anger. I find myself smiling, unable to form a coherent thought that won't make her want to throw me through a wall.

"Doesn't seem to be getting through that thick skull, though." Somers eyes me critically, doctor-style. Then she straightens, a fake grin brightening her face. "Well, you know what they say: can't fix stupid. Goodbye."

She spins on a heel, sliding past the kids crowding the hallway to her group, tapping Jill's shoulder with one of the beer bottles and handing it over. I don't realize I'm chuckling aloud until Molly tucks her arm into mine and, reaching up on her tiptoes, whispers "kaboom."