Bad Boy Rebels [1-3] (Kissing Benton, Meeting the Bad Boy Rebels, Going Undercover)

by Jessica Sorensen

  “That’s not what I said.” He drags out a pause. “But the thought has crossed my mind.”

  I grind my teeth. “Then why ask me at all? Huh? If you think I’m so incapable.”

  “I don’t think you’re incapable,” he clarifies. “I just think you might be too sweet and cute to pull this off.”

  The mention of cute makes me pause and really assess him. “Wait a second? Are you playing me right now?”

  “What do you mean?” he asks innocently.

  “I mean, are you trying to trick me into saying yes?”

  “How would anything I just said be tricking you?”

  “Because, when you wouldn’t let me into the party because you said I was a narc, I got mad and said some very not nice things that were completely out of character for me.” I study him carefully. “And now I’m wondering if you’re trying to get me riled up by telling me I’m too sweet and cute to pull this off so I’ll get mad and agree to do this.”

  He rolls his tongue in his mouth, wrestling back a grin. “Is it working?”

  I shake my head, unsure whether I’m irritated or amused by him. “I don’t know.” I release a breath as I pick at a loose thread on my comforter. “Do you really think I can pull it off?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you can do it.” He twists to face me, bringing his knee onto the bed. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but when you pretended to be my girlfriend in front of Tank and Ralpho—and without any preparation—you did a pretty amazing job.”

  “Yeah, right. I was a complete nervous wreck.”

  “Well, it didn’t show.”

  “Really?” I ask, doubtful. “Then why do they want to talk to me in private?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” He dazes off into the empty space over my shoulder. “But I don’t think it has anything to do with believing you. I think it might have something to do with what Jackson told them about you. Or, well, the girl we’re allegedly all dating.”

  My eyes go all bug-eyed. “He already told someone?”

  “Not that it was you,” he stresses then sighs. “Look, it’s a really long story, but basically what happened is Jackson was working undercover and hanging out with Tank, Ralpho, and a few other bitch runners and he made up a stupid story about us all having the same girlfriend.”

  I can barely keep up with him. “Wait… Bitch runners?”

  “It’s what we refer to as the people at the bottom of the totem pole in the drug world. They’re the ones who have to do all the shitty work the big dogs don’t want to do.”

  “Oh.” I stay calm on the outside, but on the inside my mind is spinning. Big dogs? Drug world? Bitch runners?

  Just what am I getting myself into?

  That is if you choose to do this. You can’t, though! There’s no way! Think about it, Zhara. What your family would think if they found out. What your mom would say. Plus, you’re supposed to be starting summer online courses soon. You have a plan. Sure, it might not be the plan you want, but it’s what your mom wanted.

  “Are you doing okay?” Concern flashes in Benton’s eyes. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

  “Yeah, it is.” My thoughts echo in my head. Think about what your mom would say. You’re a good, girl, Zhara. You can’t do this. “Look, Benton, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this. Going undercover… pretending to date six guys… That’s not who I am, even if I’d be pretending.”

  But do you even know who you are?

  I internally sigh, knowing the answer. No, but at least I’m trying to do what’s right. Right?

  He nods, conveying zero shock. “I kind of expected you to say that and honestly, I’m sort of glad.”

  “Really?” I frown. I don’t even know why. “Why’s that?”

  “Because, whether you like it or not, you’re a good girl.” He pats my arm, all buddy buddy like, and the move makes the bite marks on my neck burn. “And I don’t want you getting hurt.” He rises to his feet. “I need to get going. I’ve got about three hours to find a replacement girlfriend, and then I’ve got to figure out a way to explain to Tank and Ralpho why she looks different from you.” He crosses the room and opens the door, but pauses before walking out. “I’m really sorry for putting all of this on you.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “But I need to ask you for one more favor. Or well, two actually.”

  “Okay.” Hesitancy rings in my tone. But underneath it resides a drop of disappointment. Why am I disappointed, though? I’m making the right decision.

  “I need you not to tell anyone what I just told you,” he says. “If the wrong person finds out our cover could be blown.”

  I nod. “Of course. I completely understand.”

  His gaze flicks to my bedroom window and then returns to me. “And the other favor I need is for you to promise me you’ll stay away from your new neighbor.”

  Questions pop up in my mind like a zombie invasion. “Why?”

  “Because.” He dithers, thrumming his fingers against the sides of his legs. “For now, let’s just say he gave me a really bad vibe.”

  He’s acting strange and I have a suspicion that he’s keeping something—or maybe a lot of things—from me. But since the neighbor guy gave me the heebie-jeebies too, I easily agree.

  “All right, I’ll make sure to stay away from him,” I say with a nod.

  He visibly relaxes. “Thanks, Zhara. And not just for this, but for not freaking out when I told you the truth. And for playing it cool when I told Tank and Ralpho you were my girlfriend.” He backs out of my room, giving me a wink. “You’re pretty badass for a good girl.” He grins before exiting my room, leaving me alone with a thousand questions running through my head.

  And strangely, a heavy amount of regret.

  A Fifty Year-Old Woman

  After Benton leaves my house, I have very little time to dwell as I get cleaned up and then drive Nikoli to practice. The rest of my morning is spent grocery shopping and doing a mail run for Loki. Then I go home, clean the house, do the laundry, water the plants in the backyard, and go upstairs to download my syllabi for my summer courses. As I’m waiting for the printer to spit out the hundred or so plus pages, I decide to internet search secret undercover groups. It’s not like I don’t believe Benton, but I am curious who he works for, since he never explained that to me. I wonder if he did it on purpose.

  Surprisingly, my choice of search words brings up a lot of different articles and sites. I start clicking on links, but quickly realize that figuring out which group Benton works for isn’t going to happen. Besides, if the group is a legit secret, more than likely, there won’t be any info on the internet.

  Giving up, I sit back in my computer chair and stare out the window into the creepy neighbor’s backyard. Not a drop of patio furniture is visible, the curtains and blinds in the house are all shut, and the back gate has a padlock on it.

  So weird. Who is this guy? And why did it seem like Benton might have known more about him than he was letting on?

  Does it really matter? You’re never going to find out now because you’re probably never going to see Benton again.

  I frown, but quickly shove the sad feeling away. I did the right thing.

  Didn’t I?

  Sighing over my confliction, my gaze wanders to the backyard of the house to the left. My neighbor, Miss. Camernathie, a fifty something year old woman, who’s never been married and who has at least ten cats, if not more, is watering her plants in her pajamas. She often spends time doing that, along with spraying down people who step on her grass, and conversing with her garden gnomes. But that’s okay. To each their own, right? But the thing is, watching her water her tulips and roses when I just did the same thing ten minutes ago, is striking a nerve. Is that where I’m going to end up? Is that where I already am? Am I a fifty year-old woman trapped in a teenager’s body? Is that how other people see me?

  My suspicions are confirmed when my phone buzzes with an incoming mes
sage from Taylor.

  Taylor: Hey! I haven’t heard from you since Benton’s party. Hope everything’s okay! You left so early… But anyway, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Some of the girls and I are going out clubbing tonight and we were wondering if we could call you when we need a ride home because all of us suck at being DD LOL! And I know you don’t stay up that late, but I was thinking maybe you could stay up and binge watch that weird series you’re always babbling about. That way, you’d be awake already.

  Her message makes me grind my teeth until my jaw aches. Nowhere does she mention that perhaps I should go out with her. She just assumes I won’t want to. And who can blame her? It’s the vibe I’ve given out for years. It’s who she thinks I am. It’s who I am… right?”

  I really don’t know anymore.

  But I want to find out.

  Sucking in a huge breath, I text her back.

  Me: I have other plans tonight, so I might be up already. Just send me a text when you’re ready and I’ll either come pick you up or call a cab for you :) And make sure to be safe.

  Then I leave my piles of syllabi papers in the printer, slip on my sandals, and leave the house, walking down the sidewalk toward Benton’s, crossing my fingers I’m not making a huge mistake.

  And that I can handle whatever’s waiting for me when I get there.

  Meeting the Bad Boy Rebels

  I walk at the pace of a ninja power walker all the way to Benton’s. But when I actually arrive at his apartment, my adrenaline rush nosedives as the sound of several deep, male voices float through the door.

  I’m so going to throw up!

  I almost turn back and run home. And maybe I would’ve if the door didn’t swing open.

  Jackson, who most people consider a flirt, appears in the doorway, about to walk outside. But he slams to a stunned halt when he spots me. He blinks. And blinks again. Then a deliberate grin curls at his lips.

  “Hey Benton,” he calls out, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Did you by chance happen to order a side of cheerleader with that pizza?”

  “What are you talking about?” Benton shouts from somewhere in the apartment. “Or did you accidentally eat some of Jett’s brownies again.”

  “Accidentally?” Someone chokes on a laugh. “Yeah, right. Is that what he tells everyone now?”

  Jackson just smiles, his gaze fixed on me. He doesn’t say anything right away and it feels like he’s waiting for me to speak first. I’m unsure what to say, though, so I end up standing there like a dork and staring at him. He’s actually not that bad to stare at; blond hair, blue eyes, gorgeous. He’s also dressed trendy too, in a button-down shirt, a loosened tie, tan jeans, and stylish sneakers.

  “So, did you come with the pizza?” he finally asks with a cock of his brow.

  I can feel my skin turning lukewarm and confusion setting in. “No…”

  He juts out his bottom lip. “Such a shame. I was really hungry.”

  Okay, so I may be a good girl, but I think I know an innuendo when I hear one. But what I don’t get is why Jackson is using one on me. It’s not like we’ve ever really spoken at school and he seemed pretty okay with that.

  A sparkle twinkles in Jackson’s eyes as I shift uncomfortably. Then he wets his lips with his tongue, folds his arms, and leans against the doorframe. “So, if you’re not here for desert, then why are you?”

  I grow even more uneasy. Did Benton not tell him what he asked me to do? Oh my gosh, what if it was a prank! That would make much more sense than the six of them being spies… or whatever the heck they are.

  “Relax, Zhara,” Jackson says through a smile. “I’m just fucking with you.”

  “You are?” I ask stupidly. “Wait, about what?”

  His smile turns into a full on grin. “Benton was right about you… This just might work.” His gaze drinks me in, and then he steps back and nods for me to come inside. “Now get your cute ass in here.”

  Okay, so, I may not be a fan of the word cute, but Jackson made it sound so…. Well, not like an insult.

  I tug on the hem of my shorts then cross my arms, feeling very self-conscious as I step across the threshold. Jackson doesn’t move back, giving me hardly any room to squeeze by him, and my elbow ends up brushing his chest. I shiver from the contact. I don’t even know why. It’s not like I haven’t touched a guy before. And I kissed Benton the other night. Yet, here I am, shivering, because my elbow touched a hot guy’s chest.

  Face palm.

  “Cold?” Jackson bites back a laugh as he moves to shut the door.

  “A little,” I lie. And not very well since it’s ninety-five freaking degrees outside.

  Chuckling, Jackson walks by me and motions for me to follow him. “Come on, cute girl, let’s go introduce you to everyone.”

  I blink, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Did he just call me cute girl?

  My giddiness goes goodbye, see ya later, though, the second I enter the living room. For some stupid reason, I didn’t think about the fact that I’d have to meet all of the six Bad Boy Rebels at once. That realization is slapped across my face as twelve pairs of very sexy, smoldering, intense eyes fasten on me.

  “Zhara,” Benton says with a nod of his head, not seeming the least bit surprised to see me standing in his living room. “Glad you made it.”

  I give him a skeptical look. Did he think I’d show up the whole time?

  As if reading my thoughts, he winks at me.

  I shake my head, biting down on my lip.

  The move makes him chuckle.

  “Okay, does anyone else feel like they’re having a silent conversation?” Jackson asks from beside me.

  Jett, the proclaimed stoner of the group, raises his hand. “Oh! I think they might have that mind power thing.”

  Xavier, who’s sitting by Jett on the sofa, rolls his eyes. “It’s called telepathy and it’s not real.” He lightly smacks Jett on the back of the head. “You really need to lay off the weed, man. It’s killing your brain cells.”

  Jett waves him off. “I wouldn’t have known that word anyway.”

  Xavier sighs and shakes his head, then his gaze skims over me and lands on Benton. “Why is she here? I thought she wasn’t coming.”

  “Oh my God, don’t start.” Wilder, the musician/photographer/writer/anything artistic of the group, groans, his head bobbing back. “I can’t take any more male PMSing today.”

  “I don’t have male PMS,” Xavier snaps. “That’s not even a real thing.”

  Ridge, the quietest one of the group, sets the laptop he’s holding down on the coffee table. “I really wish you guys would stop fighting over everything.”

  “It’s a nice thought,” Jackson agrees. “But probably not very realistic.”

  Jett nods his head in agreement while Xavier and Wilder continue to argue over whether male PMS is actually a real thing. The entire situation is overwhelming and I find myself conflicted over whether I should’ve come here.

  “All right, that’s enough.” Benton claps his hands loudly, causing everyone to zip their lips. Then he rises from the recliner and comes to stand beside me. “So, I know you all know who Zhara is, but I don’t think any of you have actually talked to her, right?” When Jett raises his hand—he did that in class a lot too, but only to ask to go to the bathroom—Benton says. “Yes, Jett.”

  Lowering his hand, a lazy smile spreads across Jett’s face. “Actually, I have spoken to Zhara before. We worked on a group project in science together. Dissection of the frog.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. It was sophomore year.” I scrunch my nose at the memory. “You ended up starting the frog on fire.”

  Wilder makes a gagging sound while Jett snaps his fingers.

  “That’s right.” Jett shudders, yet continues to smile. “That smell haunted my nightmares for years.”

  I nod in agreement. “It was like spoiled eggs and road kill spawned a baby.”

  Jett blinks at me then busts up laughi
ng. “That’s the best description I’ve ever heard.”

  Xavier smacks him on the arm. “Would you knock it off?”

  “Knock what off?” Jett gapes at him. “I’m just laughing.”

  Xavier gives him a pressing look I can’t decipher, but apparently it means something to Jett because he grows quiet.

  From my side, Benton lets out a weighted sigh. “All right, that’s enough. Everyone just needs to introduce themselves, so that we can start training Zhara.”

  “Training?” My eyes widen as reality throat punches me.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  “Don’t worry, it’s not that hard. And I’m sure your cuteness will make it even easier.” Jackson tugs on a strand of my hair, causing Benton to frown.

  Jackson gives him a what did I do look, but Benton only shakes his head.

  “Can we please just get this done,” Benton groans. “We’re low on time.”

  “Fine. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Jackson sticks his hand out to me. “Zhara, I’m Jackson. I love long walks on the beach, hot fudge sundaes, and pretty girls in cheerleader uniforms.” He winks at me. “So, if you ever feel like wearing yours, I’m totally cool with it.”

  Unsure how to reply, I move to shake his hand. When our palms greet, he lifts my hand to his lips and places a kiss against my skin. Then he mutters something in French, a language which I’m unfortunately not fluent in.

  “Quit showing off,” Benton warns. “And quit pretending you speak French.”

  “I’m not pretending and I’ll prove it.” Jackson grins. “Bonjour.”

  Benton sighs then faces the rest of the room. “All right, Ridge, you’re up.”

  Ridge adjusts his square frame glasses, gets to his feet, and crosses the room with his hand stretched out toward me.

  “Hey, Zhara, I’m Ridge,” he introduces himself quietly.

  I put my hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you,” I feel the need to say, because while we had classes together, I’m not sure if we’ve ever spoken.

  Unlike Jackson, Ridge is quieter and more reserved, and considering all the AP classes he was in, I’m guessing he’s also smart. He doesn’t kiss my hand either, so that’s an extra bonus. Well, I think so anyway. Since the back of my hand still tickles from Jackson’s kiss, I’m wondering just how much I really didn’t like it.