Flirting with the Bad Boy

by Michelle Pennington

  The chatter behind me died down, allowing me to hear the actual seconds ticking by on the ancient clock by the window.

  I glanced at the time, then back to her.

  Had she heard me? Should I try again?

  Perhaps if I leaned my hand beside her papers…I tried that, hoping it might remind Ms. Tolken that I was, in fact, waiting for an answer to my question. The shoulder heat climbed up the back of my neck.

  The chatter picked up once more. Conversations about hangnails and ball practice and the Sadie Hawkins dance.

  “Excuse me,” I said, trying again. “I’m not sure if you heard me—”

  “Who’s your partner?” she snapped.

  A glimmer of hope. “Jett Bryant,” I whispered.

  The woman lifted her chin at last, squinting at me through dark, thick frames. I doubted they were even prescription. Anything to make herself look less appealing… “The pastor’s son?” The incredulous tone coating her words didn’t escape me.

  I shrugged, not sure why that mattered.

  “You have a problem…with the pastor’s son.”

  What, that suddenly made him perfect? “He’s not as innocent as you think.” I glanced over my shoulder, hoping no one had overheard, and kept it at a whisper. “We have some…bad blood,” I explained.

  Ms. Tolken held my gaze. “This is a class about relationships. Re-lation-ships!” she barked a second time, only louder now. “I suggest you use the skills you’ve learned in class thus far to become friends with Mr. Bryant.” Suddenly, she pushed away from the desk, shot to her feet, and looked over the classroom like she was about to address them.

  I hurried away from her toward the closest aisle, wondering if I could squeeze out the open window crack before she spoke up.

  “Anyone else want to try asking for a partner change?” she asked.

  My neck went fire-hot as I forced my eyes to the scuffed up floor. Thank heavens Jett had taken a seat at the back of the room. If he hadn’t, I might have marched right out of the door and into the hall and bolted for that cinnamon roll after all.

  Instead, I circled the desk, pulled the chair out, and sank into it with an inward groan.

  “You didn’t want to partner with my man Jett?” Ky asked.

  Levi leaned around Ky and grinned. “Yeah, what’s up with that?”

  Cool, Harper. Play it cool. I pulled an innocent-looking face. “Where’d you guys get that idea?” I put some extra snark on the comment for their benefit and felt a grin coming on as the duo chuckled and shook their heads.

  “I’m great with having Jett as my partner,” I assured.

  A heavenly, spicy scent wafted from Jett’s side of the desk, reminding me of how close he was. I tucked my elbow against my ribcage to keep from touching him.

  Focus, Harper. Do not let this affect your grade.

  Ms. Tolken snatched a nub of chalk off the tray and shuffled over to the blank side of the board. “We’re going to discuss a few popular relationship claims, and I’d like to know what you guys think of each.” She stepped back to reveal what she’d just written: You cannot make someone change.

  The woman dropped the chalk nub back onto the tray and dusted her hands on her pants. I worked to pull my eyes off the handprints, white against the brown polyester, as she addressed the class. “Do you agree or disagree, and why?”

  “Disagree,” I hollered. I knew this was a hot topic and that some would argue, but I had my reasons for feeling the way I did.

  “Harper,” Ms. Tolken pointed a finger at me. “Stand up and tell us why. Why do you disagree?”

  I pictured my boyfriend TJ. He had a bad-boy image, and in some ways he’d earned it. But I had fixed about a million things in my life so far and I was determined to fix TJ too. In fact, I was already making a difference. “I disagree full heartedly because people change all the time. My grandfather was an alcoholic for years, but eventually, he changed and it was all because of my grandma.”

  Ms. Tolken’s gaze narrowed behind her thick rims, then darted over to Jett. “Do you agree with your partner, Mr. Bryant?”

  My eyes widened as Jett stood to his feet. He folded his arms, causing the sleeve of his tee shirt to brush against my skin and that yummy, yummy scent of his to assault my senses. I shuffled away from him so we no longer touched.

  “No, I do not,” Jett said.

  Big surprise.

  “In fact,” he continued, “I full heartedly agree with the statement on the board, Ms. Tolken. Sure, people change all the time. But they do it by setting their own mind to it, not because someone made them change.”

  I shook my head. “My grandfather said he got sober for my grandma and his kids.”

  “Yeah, but he had to do it on his own. Your grandma couldn’t have made him do it.”

  Ms. Tolken put her hands up to stay us. “Thank you, thank you for your opinions. You two can sit down.”

  “I know the guy you’re going out with,” Jett mumbled once we took a seat.

  I felt my eyes double in size. I could hardly believe he’d even dared bring him up. “Know him personally or just know about him?”

  Ms. Tolken was already writing another statement on the board, not that my irritated eyes could even focus.

  Jett came in closer, speaking just over my shoulder. “Both. And if you think you can turn him into some sort of Prince Charming, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

  That got the heat going in my shoulders again. I turned in my seat to face him, ready to let loose, but was surprised by the expression on his face. It wasn’t the challenging sort of sneer I expected to see. He looked…concerned.

  I pulled in a breath, lips parted, suddenly forgetting what I wanted to say. Jett always did have the perfect-looking face. Aside from his amazing olive complexion, he had a chiseled jaw line most guys would kill for. And those eyes. Deep brown with swirls of gold. They were like secret weapons or something. I scrambled for what I’d planned to say.

  “You have no right to judge TJ,” I said. “In fact, didn’t you hear your dad in service last week? He said there’s only one Righteous Judge, and you and I both know that’s not you.” That was the ticket—bring Pastor Bryant into it.

  “I’m not judging,” Jett said with a shrug. “I just hate to see you waste your time on him, that’s all.”

  Why did he care who I spent my time with? We’d barely said two words to each other since the eight grade. A million weak rebuttals shot to my mind at once, but I bit all of them back and forced myself to read the next statement on the board.

  Romantic chemistry is a real thing.

  I contemplated that for a moment, not sure how I’d answer that. It didn’t strike a chord in me like the other one.

  “I’d have to say yes to that one,” Jett mumbled under his breath. He’d moved even closer, allowing his elbow to graze my bare arm. “What do you think?”

  A zip of tingles rushed through me as I set my gaze back on him. I inched my arm away so we weren’t touching anymore because it was suddenly making my brain go soft. “No,” I said.

  A half grin pulled at one side of his lips. Oh, man, I’d forgotten about that dimple. “No, what?” he challenged.

  I needed to get serious about my position here, even if I’d only said no for argument’s sake. “Well,” I started, “I do not think romantic chemistry is a real thing because it suggests that people who don’t even like each other could be attracted to one another.” Why did it suddenly feel like I was describing the very phenomenon that was taking place in that moment?

  I kept up with my argument. “And since I think that’s impossible, I have to assume that this so-called chemistry people are experiencing is based on respect and you know…things that matter.”

  “So does that mean you respected me back in kindergarten when you—”

  “Shhh,” I scolded, not wanting him to say it aloud. Geeze, would he ever let go of that one? “I was curious when we were in kindergarten and you happened to be th
e slowest boy on the playground, which is the only reason I was able to catch you.” Lie.

  “And kiss me,” he said.

  Just hearing the words kiss me come from those lips while he was so close and yummy-smelling set me off balance in a major way. Come on, Harper. Snap out of it.

  I pulled in a sharp breath and shifted in my seat. “You know, I’m starting to think that moment on the playground was the highlight of your life. And if it is, I feel sorry for you.”

  A laugh sounded from deep in his throat. “Maybe it was.” His expression turned cryptic. “And we almost had a second chance at it. Until you chickened out.”

  My skin came alive with all sorts of conflicting tingles. He remembered that night too. The party at Connor’s place. The one celebrating the end of middle school and the start of new adventures at Sweet Water High. Jett had made a fool of me in front of everyone, so I’d given it right back to him and basically hated him ever since. The thing was, his words seemed to be laced with regret.

  At once, I pictured another offense: his ex-girlfriend, Tasha, smearing bright red lipstick over her pouty lips in the locker room a few months back. “I heard you used to chase my boyfriend down and kiss him on the playground,” she accused.

  I hadn’t given her a response, only finished tying my shoes so I could get away from one of Sweet Water High’s top MG’s (code for mean girls).

  “He told me you still have a crush on him even now,” she’d added. A cluster of her cronies laughed in the corner. I hadn’t seen them there at first, but I spotted them in the mirror, whispering over high-pitched giggles.

  My mom had always taught me that denying things adamantly or even too quickly would be seen as a cover-up—the whole protesting too much sort of thing. And as much as I’d wanted to protest, as much as I’d wanted to say something like in his dreams or your boyfriend is delusional, I hadn’t said a thing. Only snatched my gym bag off the ground, hiked it over my shoulder, and hurried into the hall.

  Needless to say, Tasha had gotten the info from Jett, which reminded me of why I wasn’t exactly a fan of his. A reminder I sort of needed with all the feels of attraction simmering through my body.

  I managed to keep quiet the remainder of class, mainly because my mind was stuck trying to figure out how I would deal with being Jett’s partner. I hated that I was attracted to him, and I didn’t know what to do about all the tingles that zipped through me at his touch and his scent and even the low, raspy sound of his voice.

  “Is it true that most of the rings you wear are from the plays you’ve been in?” Jett traced over the ring I wore on my pinky finger, causing a fresh bolt of electricity to course through me.

  I couldn’t help but wonder who he’d heard that from. Had he been talking about me? Asking about me, maybe? With just three minutes left in class, I dropped my gaze to look at the other rings I wore today. Three on my right hand and two on my left, each sterling silver. “Yeah,” I answered. “A lot of them are. My mom buys them for me. The tiny cat ears on this one is for…well you probably don’t remember, but when I was in The Aristocats back in the third grade.”

  “I remember,” he said. “And this one’s for when you were Ariel?” He tapped the tiny mermaid on my pointer finger.

  “Yes,” I said, secretly loving how he remembered.

  Jett grinned. “You were cute in that long, red wig.”

  My cheeks flushed with heat. “Thanks.

  “Here’s the topic for you two,” Ms. Tolken said as she shuffled up to our desk. She slid a bright red envelope onto the desktop and hurried over to Ky and Levi’s next, sliding a pale green one before Ky. I glanced about to see the others in the classroom. Maddie’s envelope was pale yellow. Another, deep blue. What was with the color-coding?

  I looked back down at the envelope resting between Jett and me, feeling the heat of his gaze on my face. I glanced up to meet his eye.

  Jett unleashed that grin of his. “Who’s going to open it?” He said it like it was a dare. Just ask Fiona Tisdale, my very intelligent mother, how well dares work on me.

  I snatched the envelope, flipped open the unsealed flap, and pried it open as fast as I could. There, tucked into the small space, bright white against the red, was a slip of paper. Black ink spelled out our topic, the one we were meant to research—together—for the next two weeks.

  Anticipation stirred wildly in my chest. My heart thumped out a few extra beats.

  “So? What does it say? What’s our topic?”

  I looked up to Jett, trying very hard not to focus on those big, kissable lips, and cleared my throat. “The Chemistry of a Kiss.”