Good Boy by Megan Lowe

Chapter 5

I’m sure the faculty and donors who support Windswept Academy would like to think it’s far superior to every other elite private school in the country, but I hate to break it to them; it’s not. Don’t get me wrong, the building and all the shit in it is very nice, but at the end of the day, it’s just a school. Sure, the marble floors and built-in oak lockers with electronic locks are nice, but I suspect there would be other schools across the nation with similar, if not the same, facilities.

The uniform of dark gray slacks and a white button-up shirt for the guys, gray pleated skirt and white blouse for the girls, is one I could’ve predicted before Amy dumped the ensemble on my bed the other night. What’s also expected is the short skirt lengths, tight blouses exposing every color bra under the sun, and more rolled-up shirtsleeves than a political conference in Hawaii.

But I guess it’s not too bad. The student body seems attractive enough, not forgetting the two from outside whom, despite their holier-than-thou attitudes, I’d still like to climb like trees.

James’s warning about Cavanaugh McLaughlin is also at the forefront of my mind. I know he said he doesn’t have time for a relationship, but that warning, that was him showing concern, right? It was him not wanting me to get involved with someone who’s clearly bad news. That has to mean something, doesn’t it? I mean, you wouldn’t tell someone to stay away from trouble if you didn’t care, would you?

I walk with Jase to the office to get our schedules and IDs.

“You think you’ll be okay?” I ask him as we stand outside the office.

He rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Con.”

I ruffle his hair. “You know I worry about you.”

“But you don’t need to. I can handle myself.”

I nod and take a breath. “Yeah, I know. Old habits and all that.”

“I’ll be fine,” he reiterates. “If I need anything, I’ll call or text or send a carrier pigeon.”

“Very funny,” I say as I give him a playful shove. “Get to class, and I’ll see you at three thirty.”

Jase goes right, while I go left, heading to my first class, English.

The class has already started by the time I get there, ensuring the awkward interruption. Thankfully, I’m not made to do the typical new student introduction and am sent to a seat at a table with a blonde bombshell, despite a whole other empty desk being available. But, being the good boy I am, I take the seat I’m directed to.

If I swung that way, I’d totally do her. As it is, it doesn’t stop me from checking her out. She has long blonde hair, with one half of her head shaved. Her moss-green eyes are heavily lined with eyeliner and coated generously in mascara. Classic red lipstick is painted on her pouty lips that snarl at me when she sees me checking her out. She crosses her arms over a very generous chest, her blouse unbuttoned to where the cups of her black lace bra meet.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says as I sit down, her voice rough around the edges.

I chuckle as I sit down. “Don’t think about what, sweetheart?”

“About figuring out how best to get in my panties. I’m telling you right now, you’re not my type.”

I lean in, right up to her ear. “I’m everyone’s type.” Even though I have zero desire to do anything with this girl, it’s still amusing as fuck to play with her a bit.

She shakes her head.

“Tell me, princess.” I pick up a lock of her hair and twirl it around my finger. “What makes you think I want you, anyway?”

“Your obvious hard…” She trails off as her eyes dip to my flat slacks.

“You mean the hard-on I don’t have for you?” I ask.

She swallows. “Er….”

I lean back. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’, you’re not my type either.”

She twists to face me, eyebrow cocked.

“While I very much appreciate the package, you’re missing one very big one,” I say, my eyes directed between her legs.

“Really?” She leans forward, her tits almost falling out of her top.

I shrug. “I know it’s a waste, but a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”

“I get that,” she says, leaning back in her seat.

I put out my hand. “Connor Siddell.”

She takes what I’m offering her. “Chloe Fantana.”

“Well, Chloe Fantana, I guess this means we can be wastes together.”

She shoots me a blinding smile.

“It’s a pity though; we would’ve made one hot couple.”

“That we would,” she agrees, pulling my arm around her back so it rests on the top of her seat. I raise my eyebrows.

“I figure it’ll give ’em something to talk about.” She nods to the rest of the class, most of whose attention is on us.

“Still in?” I ask.

“No, I just like to keep ’em guessing. You’ll learn pretty quickly at this school, everyone thinks they know everyone else. You’re pigeonholed by who your family is, or how much they’re worth, or how powerful they are. I don’t subscribe to that theory. My parents take every opportunity to disown me, so why should who they are dictate how other people perceive me? I’m my own person. It’s not my fault these lemmings don’t have an original thought in their tiny brains. But you, you’re going to fuck shit up with those dreamy eyes and that perfect hair. The girls are all going to want you, and I want to a) be the first one to call dibs, in doing so confusing their narrow minds, and b) have a front-row seat to their heartbreak when they find out you’re not interested in them anyway.”

I chuckle and slide closer to her. She smells like cotton candy. “Well then, it sounds like you and me are gonna have some fun around here.”

“Stick with me, kid, and we’ll have them eating out of the palms of our hands.”

Before I know what’s happening, she grabs my face and smacks a kiss on my lips. There are gasps from the other students in the class, but all that is forgotten when the door to the classroom is flung open, smashing into the wall behind it. The Chevelle guy from the parking lot stares right at me, his trusty sidekick by his side.

I muffle a groan and slide down in my seat.

Chloe chuckles and shakes her head. “Already had a run-in with the bad boys of Windswept Academy, have we?” she asks.

“You could say that.”

She chuckles again.

“Mr. McLaughlin,” the teacher says, breaking our bubble. “How nice of you to join us. You too, Mr. Rose.”

The sidekick, Rose, turns and walks to the empty desk while McLaughlin continues to stare at me. I have no idea what his problem is, but the attention isn’t completely unwanted, despite my pledge to be good this year. There’s something about him that is… intriguing to me.

“Don’t even think about it,” Chloe says, hand resting on my shoulder, lips at my ear. “Cav will eat you alive.”

“Cav?” I ask, turning to face her and breaking the connection I had with him.

“Yeah, Cavanaugh McLaughlin and his lackey, Thomas Rose. Cav’s the all-round badass and supreme leader of Windswept Academy.”

“And why do I want to stay clear of a fine specimen such as that?” I ask, James’s warning ringing loud and clear in my mind.

“He’s bad news,” Chloe says. “Ignoring the fact he’s supposed to have killed Max Emory last summer, he’s a mean son of a bitch who delights in tormenting others. He gets off on it. In my unprofessional opinion, he’s bordering on psychopathic. Just leave it, Connor. He might be all kinds of pretty and tempting, but that is one guy you don’t want to fuck with.”

As she says this, Thomas walks past our desk. “You’ve got a little…” He points to the corner of his mouth. Chloe looks over and wipes away some of the lipstick she left when she kissed me.

Meanwhile Cav continues on to his seat next to his sidekick. Even though I don’t turn around, I can feel his eyes on me, burning into the side of my head. The warnings about this guy are piling up, but something is pulling me to him, something I’m not sure I want to fight.