Bryce (Scandalous Boys #1)

by Natalie Decker

  “Dude, let me see your schedule,” Graham says, snapping me back to reality.

  I toss him my schedule. Sarah leans over and groans. “I don’t have any classes with you. You’re in all the supersmart ones.”

  Graham laughs. “Yeah. Wonder if Madison’s got any classes with us.” He tosses back my schedule. “We’ve got second through sixth together. I hear we’ll get to pick our lab partners in chem, so we better get someone who takes notes. Like Jenny Gardner.”

  “Or Smalls,” I offer. “Oh wait, she’s in chem 2, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah.” Graham makes a face but looks over at Sarah. “Let me see what classes you have.”

  She giggles and hands over her schedule. I covertly take a peek and shake my head. I took biology my sophomore year, and she’s taking it as a senior. Holy shit—algebra? The girl is in all the remedial classes. I stop looking. Graham better wrap his shit up because I wouldn’t put it past Barbie here to get knocked up and suck the life out of him.

  “Mr. Jenkins?” There’s a knock at the door. I turn and see Madison making her way into the room. Most of the guys in the class are gawking at her. One, Jeff Nibs, actually makes catcalls. Madison’s cheeks turn cherry red, but she doesn’t take her eyes off Mr. Jenkins.

  “What’s up, Madison?”

  “I have my schedule, and it says I have you for psychology, and although I think that class would be fascinating, I didn’t sign up for it. I really need my weight-training class back.”

  “Ew. Weight training? She isn’t serious, is she?” Sarah scoffs.

  Mads runs track and cross-country. All athletes are encouraged to take weight training. I don’t tell Sarah this because it will probably confuse her. Her comment does set me off, though. “What’s wrong with weight training?” I ask.

  Sarah gives me a look like I just spit hellfire in her face or something. “Um, hello. Only girls who want to look like men take those classes. And Mads’s chest is pretty flat as it is.”

  Graham laughs. I don’t have a retort to her comment. At least not one she’d understand, so I just let it go. Besides that, I’m looking at Madison’s chest right now, and it doesn’t look flat at all. In fact, she’s got a decent amount up there.

  “Did you speak with your guidance counselor?” Mr. Jenkins asks.

  She nods. “He told me to have you sign this form.”

  He looks over the paper and then eyes her up. “Madison, I can’t sign this. You need my class or another form of social science to graduate. Unless you plan on taking my class this summer, I won’t sign this. I’m sorry.”

  “But …”

  “I’m sorry, Madison.”

  She nods again. “It’s okay. Thanks, Mr. Jenkins.” She hurries out of the room just as the bell rings.

  Chapter Nine

  Madison

  My life is in full-on suck mode. Yes, I forgot all about the social science requirement. They still didn’t have to take my weight-training class away. I need that to ensure my leg strength for track. Now, I’ll have to try to squeeze lifting into my already busy schedule. As if this day couldn’t get any worse, I’ve also got a front-row seat to the Sarah and Graham make-out show before every class I have with him.

  That should be me. Not her. But what can I do? He’s clearly head over heels for her. And who wouldn’t be? She’s beautiful with her long legs and perfect hair. Sure, she lacks brain cells, but guys apparently love dense girls.

  Class is killing me, though. Not because the work is hard or because the person I want most is totally in love with my cousin. Nope, it’s the silence. He doesn’t say hi. He doesn’t look at me or smile at me. He doesn’t even ask for my help on problems I know he’s struggling to get the answer to. Do you know who does ask for help? Bryce.

  Bryce Matthews is asking me for help. Graham actually looks up at him in calculus 2 and gives him a faint shake of his head. I see it. But he coughs and turns away when he catches me looking at him. I ball my fists and try to hold back my emotions. I try to hold in the scream that’s begging to be released.

  “What’s your problem with me? Did I do something?”

  I feel Bryce’s stare on both of us, but I don’t care. I don’t care if the whole class is looking at us. Graham fumbles with his pencil and mutters, “Y-you have p-pictures of me.”

  “What?”

  He looks over at me, finally. “I’m with Sarah. And I don’t think we should be friends anymore. Because I’m a little creeped out by your obsession.”

  Any blood in my body drains. My heart twists, and my stomach knots. Eyes are on us. Ears hear every word. I’m so humiliated. I stumble to a stand and refuse to look at him. At anyone really.

  I won’t cry in front of him either. That will only confirm the thoughts he just projected aloud. I walk over to Mrs. Vixen’s desk and drop my worksheet into the basket. “May I please use the restroom?”

  She hands over the paddle that has the words “hall pass” etched into the wood underneath her name and “room number 106.” I don’t know how I managed to walk out of the room without crumbling, let alone spilling one tear. I do it, though.

  In the bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m no beauty queen. I’ve got freckles all over my nose and across my cheeks. My hair isn’t as sleek as it should be. Not without serious help from a flat iron and some product. But I don’t have misshapen eyebrows or a hooked nose. I don’t have eyes too big for my face. So why am I always alone?

  Why do boys only want the insanely perfect, flawlessly skinned girls? Why not me? What’s wrong with me? And who knows what Sarah told Graham? He thinks I’m obsessed with him. He doesn’t even want to be my friend anymore.

  Tears spill. Anger ebbs through my body. I should let it go. Let karma take care of Sarah. But karma is taking her sweet-ass time, and I’m done waiting.

  Swiping the stray tears away, I splash some cold water on my face and observe my reflection again. Sarah wants to play dirty. I can do it too.

  Heading back to class, a plan is concocted in my head, and I swear my steps feel a little lighter. Everyone will see her for the devil she really is, including Graham. Once that happens, he’ll be mine.

  Sliding back into my seat, I don’t let my eyes go to Graham like they usually do. I don’t even look up at Bryce, although I can feel him staring at me. My attention is focused on my calculus 2 book.

  A note flies over the page.

  Hey, I’m serious. Will you help me with this last problem? Please.

  I look up at Bryce and sigh. I snatch his paper and start working on the problem that’s giving him so much grief. It’s the least I can do since he did safeguard my butt this morning. He also offered me his sweatshirt to cover up these scandalous shorts and all they are showing off.

  I hand him back his paper, and he reads through the problem all worked out. “Seriously?”

  “Y-yes.” I sound unsure, because I’m not sure if he was really asking or being sarcastic. I never can tell with him.

  “I could kiss you right now, Smalls.”

  The comment makes me reel. He doesn’t mean it. Bryce doesn’t kiss girls like me. He’s all into easy, gothic, bad girls. I’m none of those things. And it’s not like I want him to kiss me anyway. For some reason, I do end up looking at his lips. His upper lip is not really thin, but it isn’t all plumped up. The bottom lip is a little plump, though, and it is begging to be sucked and nibbled on.

  I blink a few times and look back at my notebook. I can’t believe I actually pictured myself sucking and nibbling on his lower lip. Oh. My. God. What am I saying? I don’t want to kiss Bryce. He smokes. He’s always in trouble. Kissing him is all kinds of wrong, and thinking about doing such thing is even worse.

  “You okay over there, Smalls?”

  I make a noise. “Pfft. Yeah. Are you okay?”

  He gives me the almighty “You’re so freaking weird” stare and then shakes his head. Serves me right. I’d be shaking my head at me too. My thoughts were
crazy—thinking about kissing criminals. Just to summarize, my love life: really sucks. My friends: well, now that Graham no longer wants to be my friend, I’m down to one. Wow, I need to get out more or get a life.

  “Class, I’d like each of you to exchange numbers with the group you’re in. In this study group, you will have to set up study sessions, and homework will be graded as a group project, not just an individual grade. This means double points.”

  Wait a second. I’m writing my number down but stop because both of them have my number already. Also, the last part of what my teacher just said freezes me in place. Homework is worth double points and graded as a group? In what universe is this even fair? I look over at my group and literally want to cry. Well, there go my sick days. If I rely on these two while I’m ill, my grade will go straight in the toilet.

  Graham seems to be thinking the same thing, because he looks over at me, then at Bryce. I want to tell him this isn’t my fault.

  Bryce hands me his number with a smirk. “Now, Smalls, I know you’ll have this urge to sext me tonight. But you shouldn’t because my mom takes my phone after ten.” He winks.

  My mouth falls open in disgust, and I glare at him. “Don’t flatter yourself, Bryce.”

  “Kidding. But for real, my mom takes my phone every night at ten.”

  I shoot a look over at Graham, but he looks uninterested in our conversation. I don’t even want to clue him in because he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. At least for now, he doesn’t.

  I turn my attention back to Bryce. “We should probably do the work together so we all have the same answers and we’re all on the same page. I can’t keep carrying you two knuckleheads every year.”

  Bryce nods. “I’m down. I’ve got to work until five, but I can be wherever after that.” He smacks Graham. “Hey, did you hear us?”

  “What?” Graham asks.

  Chapter Ten

  Bryce

  Madison is in my room, sitting on the floor listening to whatever the hell is playing on her iPod. She taps her foot, working on some other homework while we wait for Graham. If he’s not here in ten minutes, I’m going to suggest we start without his ass.

  “Bryce, is Madison joining us for dinner?” my mom asks through the small opening in the door.

  I snap my fingers in front of Madison’s face. She pulls out an earbud. “Hmm?”

  “You hungry?”

  She looks down at her stomach and blushes. “Was it growling?”

  “What?”

  She chews her lower lip. “Was my stomach growling?”

  I laugh. Jesus, she’s so cute when she’s all embarrassed about stuff. “No, it wasn’t. I was asking if you want some food¸ though. My mom’s setting the table.”

  “Oh! Um. Okay. I mean, if that’s okay.”

  “Mom, she’ll eat with us,” I say, knowing my mom heard her, but I want to confirm it without answering Madison.

  Madison returns to her other homework, tapping her pencil against her notebook while a loose strand falls from her hair clip. I am mesmerized by her. She looks up, catching my stare, and asks, “What?”

  “Nothing.” I grin like an idiot.

  She tucks the strand behind her ear and sighs. “I don’t—”

  “Okay, kids! Come on down for dinner,” my mom shouts, interrupting Mads.

  I help Mads up off the floor, and we head downstairs. I know we’re waiting on Graham, but I kind of hope he doesn’t show up. This kind of hoping will get me into deep crap. I’ve already fell for this girl once. Way back in kindergarten. And do you know what she said to me? “Ew! Never!” After that, I knew exactly where I stood with a girl like Mads. So why in the hell am I wanting to spend time alone with her? To touch her hair? Her face? Why do I really want to do all these things as well as kiss her? Especially when I know she only has eyes for guys like Graham?

  “Bryce?” Madison asks, bringing me out of my train of thought.

  “What’s up, Smalls?”

  She crinkles her nose. “Where’s your dining room?”

  “Huh?” Why is she asking about my dining room?

  She scowls. Oh, that’s right; we’re eating dinner together. I lead the way, and she follows. Once we enter the dining room, I notice only three plates are set. Dad’s not coming again. Mom looks over at Madison and smiles. “I hope you like pot roast.”

  “Love it,” Madison answers with a smile. She takes my usual seat, and I sit down beside her.

  My mom wears a wide smile from ear to ear as she serves food to Mads and me. I shake my head. That look alone means trouble—questions and a slew of ideas I want no part of. My mom sits back. “So, Madison, how’s school?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I see you’ve been spending a lot of time with my son, without Graham, lately. Are you two … ?”

  Madison blushes. Full-blown, deep apple red. I groan inwardly. Mads looks over at me, then swallows, and says, “Graham is running a little late today. But we’re just friends. All of us are just friends.” She drops her gaze to her plate and begins shoveling food into her mouth.

  If only she knew that this will not protect her from my mom asking her questions. “Hey, Mom,” I said, “when’s Dad getting back?”

  “Not sure. Probably late this week.” She frowns and starts on her own dinner.

  There. I saved Mads for at least a few minutes.

  An hour later, there’s still no Graham, so Mads and I do our homework. I catch her glancing at the clock every ten minutes. I catch her glancing out the window and over to her own room. She grumbles and then taps her pencil harder against her notebook.

  We come to the last problem, and I ask, “So which one of us is going to share and explain this to Graham?”

  Her green eyes look up at me, and she snaps, “Funny. It’s obvious he thinks I’m obsessed with him, and he’s not going to come here because of me. So you can share with him.”

  “Mads, I don’t think—”

  “He said it! You heard him say it.” She drops her gaze. “I draw. I’m always drawing. Sometimes there were perfect moments that I wanted to capture. Like our time at the lake. He was looking out at the sunset, and you were by this set of rocks smoking.” Mads’s gaze draws up to mine, and then she sighs. “Never mind. You don’t care.”

  And usually, this is true—I don’t care. Today, though, I do. Mads is awkward. She’s great at sports, but socially, she’s awkward. She has like, what, two friends. She doesn’t go to dances. I don’t think she’s ever dated a guy. But, hey, what do I know? She might have.

  “Smalls, I think it’s cool that you draw.”

  Mads isn’t listening to what I’m saying. She’s rambling about something and stuffing all her books and notebooks into her book bag. I step in front of her before she reaches my door to leave. “Hey. Why are you bailing?”

  “I’m tired. I have to go.” She sidesteps me and heads out. I let her. Anyone else would have held her up. Comforted her or said something to make her stay. But that isn’t me. None of this is me. I can’t be like this with Mads. I can’t get sucked up into falling for her again.

  It doesn’t stop me from watching her from my window. She makes it to her house and disappears behind the brick walls. The light to her room flicks on, and then, like some pervert, I watch her take a seat at her desk. I turn away before she can glance out the window and notice me looking at her. I pick up my phone and call Graham.

  “Yeah?”

  “Dude, I should punch you in your nutsac. You ditched Mads and me today.”

  “I’ll just copy what you guys got. Wait, she did work out the problems with you, right?”

  I hear a splash and a giggle and then, “Who are you talking to, baby?”

  “Cute,” I say. “Playing at the damn lake while I stay behind and do our homework. You’re such a dickwad.”

  “Oh, piss off. I can’t do it, man. All I keep thinking about is Madison planning out our wedding and shit!”

  I
groan. “First off, have you even seen this drawn-out plan?”

  “No. But Sarah has. She lives with her. Why would she say something like that if it wasn’t true?”

  “How the hell would I know that? Look, I’m telling you that you need to go talk to Madison about this. Seriously, man. Grow a pair and just figure it out, because a group grade is not some shit to be joking about.”

  I hear him grumble. “Fine, I’ll talk to her.”

  “I’ll hook you up with the homework after you talk to her. Just swing by.”

  “Whatever, man.”

  “Later.”

  “Later.”

  I hang up and look over at Madison’s window. She looks deep in thought. There is no way she’s doing homework. Nah. She’s probably drawing.

  Next thing I know, I’m throwing on my shoes and heading over to her house.

  Chapter Eleven

  Madison

  My cell rings. I look at the caller ID and see it’s Graham. I push ignore. I’ve never ignored Graham—ever. Even if I was deathly ill, coughing up a lung, I still answered his calls. But today, I’m not in the mood.

  I don’t want to hear his voice, which I swear is as sweet as honey. I don’t want to listen to whatever he might have to say, because I’m mad. Yes, I’m beyond mad! I’m downright livid with him for not only ditching me but for what he did to me in class. It’s like … well, he can just go screw himself right now.

  Soft tapping against my door pulls me from my thoughts. “Yeah?”

  My mom enters. “Bryce is here to see you. Can I just send him up?”

  I nod. My room isn’t exactly secret anymore. I swivel back to my sketchpad.

  “She’s in here.” Heavy footsteps fall near me, and my mom says, “Leave the door open, sweetie.”

  I roll my eyes and cringe at whatever crap my mom thinks will be happening in my room. I look over at Bryce. “Hey.”