When the Bad Boy Isn't Bad

Chapter 5: Explosions or Nah?

"Brianna! Luke! Hi!" I called, waving. I slid onto one of the two empty stools at the table. "Do you know what we're doing today?"

Luke shrugged. "Something with clay? I don't know, I just got here."

The room hushed a little and I looked up to see Blaze standing near the front of the room, looking around. His startling eyes landed on mine, and we held the eye contact for a second before he started coming over. Luke and Brianna whispered and poked me, saying something about the dare.

"Shut up!" I whispered. "You gotta keep quiet and not talk about it in school." I widened my eyes at them pleading. They nodded.

Blaze pulled out the stool next to me and sat down. Luke narrowed his eyes slightly, but rubbed his face, hiding it.

"Hey," Blaze nodded at me. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Uh, hi. Why are you sitting here?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Why not?" He brushed off the question, made it seem like there was nothing special about it. But there wasn't, right? But why would I be feeling this way if it wasn't special? I shook my head to clear it.

"What?" He asked, thinking my head shake was for him. "Were you saving this?"

I shook my head again. "No, just thinking. You can sit there, it's fine."

Luke cleared his throat, drawing my attention back. "Oh, right! Blaze, this is Luke, and Brianna. And this is Blaze," I introduced them.

Blaze nodded at Luke. "Hey."

"Hey."

"You play football, right?" Blaze asked.

Luke nodded. "Yeah. Running back. Number 18."

Blaze grinned. "I've seen you play. You're good."

"Thanks," Luke said slowly.

Brianna looked at me and winked.

"What?" I asked.

"Does Blaze even go to the football games?" She pointed out.

"I... I don't know! I don't stalk him! Maybe?" I tried.

"No. No, I don't think he does. Not most of them, anyways. You wanna know what I think?" I shrugged. "I think he's trying to get on Luke's good side, so when we all hang out, if we all hang out, he can be closer to you and it won't be weird," she finished, smirking at me.

"Shut up! You're going crazy, I swear. You, like, plan out all these absurd things and expect them to happen!" I whisper-shouted at her, remembering the time in sixth grade when she had tried to get me with this guy who I didn't even know his name. "Next thing I know, you'll be planning my wedding!" She laughed.

"Wait and see, Jenny. Wait and see."

I glared at her. "Don't call me Jenny. And don't 'wait and see' me."

"Bossy!" She whined, louder. The guys looked at us, but went back to their talk about guy stuff, meaning a load of phrases and words I had no chance at understanding.

"Alright class!" The art teacher, a paint splattered woman with light orange hair, actually really young and pretty, called. "I hope you like the people at your tables, those will be your seats for the rest of the month or so. Maybe more, we'll see." There were loud whoops from a couple of the tables filled with guys, and the teacher suddenly looked very insecure about her decision. "Okay then. If you didn't remember from last class, I am Miss Benge. Today, we are making clay plaques." She motioned towards a few big bags of clay. "You will roll out a slab of clay, then cut out the shape and add your design, and words if you like. I have some samples from past years up here, but I'm going to leave you on your own. Tell me if you need help." She finished.