A Bad Boy Stole My Bra

by Lauren Price

  “I’m all right.” He smiles lopsidedly. “Any luck with the bra?”

  I grimace. “Not as of yet. I broke into his room last night and couldn’t find anything. I don’t know where it is but he’s not stupid enough to keep it in his room. I got a bit of revenge though, so at least there’s that.”

  We turn into the corridor leading towards my English room, the students dwindling now to reveal the polished wooden floor and cheesy inspirational quotes of a high-school hallway. I need to be careful or I’ll be late for my lesson.

  “I saw your prank – nice job by the way. Alec told us about you breaking in. You dressed like a cat burglar?” Tones of disbelief and amusement colour his voice.

  I scoff. “Of course not. He’s making that up.”

  “Well, I thought I’d give you a hint.” He pulls my elbow lightly to stop me in my tracks.

  “A hint?”

  “I do feel a bit bad for the whole bra thing,” he admits, shoving his hands into his pockets and rolling back on his heels. “If it wasn’t in his room, then I think you should check his bag. Alec’s got exactly the kind of guts to carry the thing around with him. He’s in football now, so if you went to the boys’ changing rooms you’d be able to find his stuff.”

  “Oh,” I say stupidly. The boys’ changing rooms.

  “I’m only helping you once,” he warns. “And I don’t know that it’ll be there, but it sounds like an Alec thing to do. Just make sure you get in and out before their training session is done otherwise you’re screwed.”

  “Thanks,” I say in surprise. “I didn’t expect you to try to help me.”

  “Well.” He shrugs abashedly and looks away. “No word of this to Alec. It’s just a suggestion anyway.”

  “Do you mind if I ask . . . how do you guys actually know Alec so well?”

  “He lived here when we were kids. We all basically grew up together.”

  “Huh.” The thought that he had lived in Lindale previously hadn’t occurred to me.

  “Anyway,” Dylan drawls. “I should get to Chemistry. Good luck with the bra hunting if you decide to go.” He touches my arm lightly and walks back down the corridor away from me. It was actually really nice of him to try to help. I glance towards my English classroom and bite my lip. The corridor is entirely empty now. I’m already late.

  “God, I hope it’s there,” I grumble to myself, spinning on my heel and marching in the opposite direction.

  I stare horrified at the door in front of me. I can already smell the stench of axe spray and male sweat from here. My nostrils are burning, my jaw is clenched and my eyes are wide. It won’t be too bad. I can just . . . not breathe for a while. I’ll get used to the smell, and hopefully I won’t have a lung spasm and die. Crap, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m a bit worried that this is maybe taking the searching too far. Then I remind myself that he started this. I’m just going to be the one to finish it.

  If this is the only way, it’s time to step up and take it back.

  Reluctantly, I pinch my nose and kick the door open to enter the changing rooms, letting the strong-smelling air flood over me. I’m going to die of asphyxiation in here. Wary of possible male stragglers, I peer round the corner of the wall and I’m relieved to see the room empty, albeit a complete mess. I step cautiously, dodging stray socks and sneakers that have just been thrown around. Sweat-stained towels and deodorant cans lie everywhere. The room is tiled blue, instead of purple like the girls’, and is lined with benches. To the right are doorways to the showers. I begin to scan for Alec’s things. I know he has a navy rucksack, but which one of them is his?

  Staring at all of the bags in doubt, I feel so uncomfortable. I just want to find his bag and get it over with. I shouldn’t be in here.

  I make a snap decision and pick one that is as similar as I can recall, opening it to peer inside. Water bottle, folder, notepad. Nothing special. Cussing under my breath, I position it as I found it and move onto the next navy rucksack. I hiss out my breath through my teeth. I’m not sure if I can continue to do this. It feels wrong. Frustration begins to escalate in my chest. For all I know, Alec might not even be at football training today. Dylan could have made a mistake, or sent me here as a trick. I’m in the boys’ changing rooms, potentially searching through some random guys’ bags!

  If Alec would just give the damn thing back, I wouldn’t be doing this! I can’t believe that boy had the nerve to take it in the first place, never mind keep it from me. He’s undoubtedly the hottest but also most irritating guy I have ever met. I hate that a part of me is growing fond of his warmer, playful side. I can’t allow myself to be hurt again, and this guy is evidently an utter grasshole.

  I freeze. My blood runs cold.

  That’s the sound of footsteps. Guys cheering and hooting, doors closing.

  The football team are coming back.

  Scrambling to push the navy rucksack I was looking at back into place, I search frantically for somewhere to hide. The showers have no cubicles. I can’t hide under the benches. Beginning to hyperventilate, my gaze rests on a set of metal storage cupboards. These are my only hope. I frantically dash over, open a door and clamber into the bottom amongst the dirty footballs and team sweaters. It stinks of stale sweat in here, but at least the axe-spray smell is less strong. I pull the door shut in front of me, curl up into a ball and sit in the darkness, listening. My heart is racing.

  The next sound I hear is the bustle of the team coming into the changing rooms – the smack of soles across the tiles, the jostling of sweaty bodies. Boys are so loud.

  “That was one kick-ass game,” someone yells, echoed by howls of agreement. Shin pads and shoulder guards clatter against the floor. I realise I’m holding my breath, too scared to make a noise, despite the clamour that they’re making. This was so stupid.

  “Guys, round up any borrowed shin pads. I need to put them back in the cupboard.”

  Please be talking about a different cupboard.

  I can hear footsteps getting closer, and somehow it’s louder than all of the other noise. Cringing back into the shadows, I find myself covering my face, as if that will make any difference. As if it isn’t enough to be known as the girl who broke into her neighbour’s bedroom, now I’m going to be the girl creeping in the boys’ locker rooms too! The footsteps stop outside of the cupboard and I can see the shin-pad box being placed down through the gaps in the lining.

  Crap, crap, crap.

  And just like that, all my panicking is replaced by downright fear. The door swings open, revealing a load of half-naked, muddy and sweaty guys in a changing room. Light floods the cupboard, meaning even the darkest crevices are exposed. They haven’t spotted me yet, but it won’t be long. I peer up, wincing as I see the aghast face of a bulky football player staring down at me. His curly hair is slicked back with sweat, his jaw is slack and his eyes are bulging impossibly wide. Way to make an impression, Riley.

  “Girl!” he roars, and it’s as though everybody within a fifteen-metre radius jumps a mile in the air. Havoc ensues as boys turn to stare at me openly, shrieks of a pitch that I didn’t even think was possible for boys are released and guys are jumping around, pointing at me and covering up their junk. Cheeks burning, I stare at the chaos in front of me.

  I cuss under my breath, standing up from my position in the cramped cupboard and holding my poor back. Just that simple motion seems to send the havoc into overdrive. Everywhere I look, boys are shouting and cussing at me or screaming with laughter, and quite frankly I’m so overwhelmed that tears begin to prick my eyes. Do not cry. That will just make this situation ten times more embarrassing.

  “I’m leaving, shut up. It was a dare!” I repeatedly shout out my lie, making a beeline for the door.

  I freeze in my tracks.

  Alec Wilde is standing at the entrance of the boys’ locker rooms, staring at me in shock. He’s sweaty and his skin is reddened, but the pen is still evident. Every guy in the room is staring at me, a
nd my cheeks have never been so scarlet in my life. He has caught me, quite literally, in my most embarrassing moment. Meekly, I step past Alec to get out of the changing rooms. At this point, I am ready for death.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispers, coming up behind me with his hands on my shoulders and gently pushing me into the fresh air of the corridor. As soon as we’re out, he spins me round, pressing my back against some sports lockers.

  I take a few gulps of fresh, clean oxygen, feeling totally shell-shocked.

  “Why were you in there?” I hear the incredulity in his voice.

  “I was looking for my bra,” I answer almost robotically. I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe I didn’t leave when I should have.

  “Did I even need to ask?” He chuckles dryly to himself. “Anyway, are you okay?”

  His question surprises me, and I don’t fail to show it. My head snaps up painfully to stare at him. He actually cares, despite what I did last night. Why? “I’m fine,” I say breathlessly, blushing and glancing back down to the floor again. I’m snapped out of my daze when he shifts beside me, and slowly but surely I’m pressed into the lockers. What is he doing? I glance up curiously and freeze. Alec isn’t saying anything, he’s just looking. Just looking at me.

  “What are you doing?” I stammer.

  He begins to lean in. His face is sweaty, his eyes are beautiful.

  My heart stirs into overdrive, pummelling against my ribs at a speed I never knew was possible. My breath dissipates in my throat. My lungs are on fire, my pulse is going crazy and my blood feels like it’s boiling in my veins. What –

  He leans right past my lips to my ears.

  I release my breath in relief, but not for long. Alec’s breath tickles my earlobe, reminding me that I am still smack bang in the centre of an incredibly compromising, awkward situation. I await his words nervously. Surely he’s going to say something, right? He’s not just going to stand there and breathe awkwardly into my ear?

  “I will get you back for this, Greene,” Alec murmurs.

  It’s only when he leans back that I take notice of the marker pen on his face. It’s faded a little, but it’s still quite prominent, even on his olive skin. I sense a laugh tugging on the corners of my mouth but hurriedly try to restrain it. Now is not the correct time for laughing, but the more I try to restrain it, the more it escapes. Giggles turn into full-blown cackles, and Alec has a horrified glare on his face. “Riley, stop laughing!”

  “I’m sorry,” I wheeze, unable to look at him for fear of laughing even more. I think I’m losing my sanity.

  “What the – ?” Dylan’s voice butts in from beside us, and I look up to see him staring at both me and Alec with a slightly baffled expression. Alec shrugs in reply. Even I don’t know why I’m laughing like a donkey in the middle of the corridor, but this is the perfect time to escape. So, as I burst into another round of giggles, I make a break for it. I run so fast I’m afraid my legs won’t carry me and I’ll fall over. I can just about hear Alec’s cry of surprise behind me, but it’s too late now because the air is whipping past my ears and I’m focused and concentrated on my running – on my running and nothing else.

  Dodging gym teachers and tennis balls, I sprint through the gym as fast as my legs will go, fully aware of Alec catching up to me. In one last burst of adrenaline, I slam straight through the girls’ restroom doors and into the beige interior of the school bathrooms, knowing Alec wouldn’t dare follow me in here. A few girls look up at me in surprise, but all I can concentrate on is catching my breath. I did it! I’m saved!

  “I’ll see you at the party tonight, Riley,” Alec calls from outside. “I know where you live.”

  And they’ll say I’m the creepy one.

  6

  The Party

  Violet pulls up outside the party and my heartbeat thunders inside my chest.

  I stare through the window, making no effort to exit the vehicle just yet. We’re parked, like many other cars, on a long gravel driveway at the foot of a stone mansion. There are people everywhere I look – passed out on the grass, dancing or making out. The music is so loud it seems to shake the ground. This party is huge. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? My palms are slick with sweat as I wipe them down my unusually-for-me bare legs, and I take a deep breath to calm myself.

  “Riley, you can do this,” my best friend reminds me, leaning over to squeeze my hand.

  “You sure about that?” I ask breathlessly. A large part of me is dying to go home, but I won’t allow myself to cower out of this. To defeat my anxieties, I have to confront them. But son of a biscuit, I’m scared right now.

  “I’m positive.” She squeezes again. Violet’s eyes are lined with kohl, and her hair is in an intricate French braid. She looks gorgeous. I turn to look out of the window again at the scene. We’re in the more expensive part of Lindale, towards the cliffs. The houses here are all worth a lot of money, and this one is no exception. It almost seems a crime to litter it with teenagers. You can tell this place looks magnificent in the daytime.

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  I force myself out of the car and we walk up the long driveway towards the party. I watch Violet teeter slightly in her heels, thanking heaven that I’ve stuck with my trusty ankle boots and dungaree dress. The music seems to grow louder with every step I take, alongside the thrumming of my heart in my ears. We receive only a few disinterested glances as we make our way up to the door – people are too absorbed with their own business to notice that anyone else has arrived.

  “Greene,” a familiar voice calls from behind me. Standing at the top of the steps leading to the entrance, I spin on my heel to see Alec making his way towards us, freshly scrubbed from the permanent-pen disaster. He wears black skinny jeans and a low side-cut tank top. His hair is messy, and he’s got a can of beer in one hand. His other hand is behind him, hidden from my view. I feel an instant wash of relief once I see him. “Hey,” he says, looking me over. “You look great.”

  What? He just complimented me. He just told me I look “great”.

  “Oh . . . thanks,” I stammer. “You – you do not look bad either.”

  My eyes wince shut the minute the words leave my mouth. That is quite possibly the most awkward response I could have given. Why does the filter between my brain and my mouth seem to crumble into ash sometimes? I practically burned myself there.

  Alec snorts with laughter, and I crumble further.

  “Such sweet words you speak.”

  “She means you look hot,” Violet intercedes. She flicks back a braid teasingly. “I would just like to remind you adorable kids that I’m here too!”

  “Go on, Riley, give her a compliment.” Alec grins.

  “No, no, it’s all right,” says Violet dramatically. “No need to compliment me. I’m the Victoria sponge and she’s Victoria’s Secret, I understand.”

  “Oh shush, you.” I laugh, batting her arm lightly. “Where are the others?”

  “They’re inside,” Alec says, although he makes no move for us to join them. “Do you want a drink?” He brings the can forward, pushing it into my hands, and I wrinkle my nose. I’ve never been the biggest fan of alcohol full stop – but beer is just foul. I don’t understand why anyone would want to drink it. Seeing my expression, Alec sticks his tongue out immaturely. “Loosen up a little. It will help you have fun, I promise.”

  “This is peer pressure,” I mutter, but nevertheless I bring the can to my lips. I take a long, dry gulp of the disgusting liquid, squinting my eyes shut at the taste. As expected, it’s vile, but I swig down some more of the can anyway and push it back into a surprised Alec’s hands. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but if there’s any way I can calm my nerves about tonight, it’ll be through a little bit of alcohol. “That was vile.”

  “It’s gross,” Alec says, grinning. “But we drink it anyway.” He glances at Violet and offers her the can, but she shakes her head.

  “Designated d
river tonight.”

  Alec looks at me. “So you’re the designated drunk? This should be interesting.”

  “If you find me chugging back vodka like no tomorrow at any point during this party, please stop me.”

  “No way! Drunk Riley could be fun. More fun than sober Riley at least.” Alec offers me the beer again and I throw some more back without question. The only alcohol I really like the taste of is strawberry cider. Beer, wine, vodka or anything else just puts a bad taste in my mouth. The beer I’m chugging down is helping me to relax a bit, though. Or maybe that’s just Alec’s presence. The blue eyes that seem to dissolve a little bit more of me every time I see them.

  “Drunk Riley would cry all over you, or faint.” Violet laughs. “Not fun.”

  “Body shots?” Alec winks at me. “I’ll let you use my abs if you want.”

  Tempting.

  “I don’t think potatoes get abs,” I mutter under my breath, albeit loudly enough for Alec to hear me.

  Violet snickers.

  “Who said I was a potato?” Alec grabs my hand before I can move it away, flexing his bicep under the warm skin and forcing me to feel the arm tighten significantly. I try not to broadcast the fact that I want to melt right here right now, and tear my hand away instead.

  “Mr Potato Head,” I blurt. “Your arms aren’t quite as impressive as you think.”

  “Liar,” Alec says as he leans in, challenging me. My breath seems to leave my body quite rapidly, and I almost forget to breathe again. Being so close to him makes me uncomfortable. It makes my heart race and my palms clammy. I don’t like feeling like that.

  “Shall I just be going, you two?” Violet interjects bluntly. “I’m a bit of a third wheel.”

  Alec moves back instantly and I scoff. “You can’t third wheel unicycles, Vi.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to go inside and see who’s here. Meet me in the kitchen in five minutes okay?” she says to me, before fixing Alec with a cold stare. “And don’t call me ‘Vi’.”