Chapter 16

Yrene's PoV

The day dragged on and I trudged through it. For the first time in forever I wasn't able to pay full attention to my subjects but rather, my thoughts seemed to be drifting off over and over again to another realm, to another person.

I had to shush my brain multiple times for thinking of how Mr. Drew's eyes reminded me of the beauty in the world because of their honey colour with golden specks and how one could easily become lost in their richness. Oh. My. God. I am doing it again.

Maths, all in all was a nightmare, the girls in my grade kept on swooning over Mr. Drew's looks and how 'well dressed' he was or his muscular forearms which were on display due to his sleeves being rolled up.

The giggles gave me a torturous headache which made me want to slam my head into a wall repeatedly, not to mention Mr. Drew's attitude in class was totally different , he was cocky, reserved and very stern, the only similarity between Mr. Drew and the Chase I knew outside of class was their demanding attitude, Chase in class demanded answers to equations and insulted you with cockiness if you didn't know the answer and Chase outside of class demanded answers in general, very often with a threat.

Dear God, give me strength to put up a strong front when with this man because I could tell, that in class he was actually going to treat with as much cockiness and restrain as any other student which was reiterated by the fact that he called me, 'Miss Jones' in class and that too without a hint that we had had much deeper conversations than solving math equations only a few minutes prior.

Somehow, by some miracle of God, I managed to get through the day without my friends noticing something was up and by this time I had taken off the jacket Bear had made me wear and returned it to Ross; my dear brother had broken to me, fresh news,

"Yr, sweetie I'm sorry but I have to go home with Jess today for you know, a science project..."

Science project? My ass. He was trying to get some action with his girl of the week since Sunday and my thought was confirmed by him rubbing his neck shyly, a sign that he was lying. Nevertheless he continued,

"So like someone else is going to pick you up today."

I groaned in frustration, flipped him the bird, gave him a glare and walked away.

Great! Now I was going to have to go home with Raymond who would totally make remarks about my dressing and try to persuade me to do what my mother and father had been trying to make me do for a long time, the cause of most of the rifts at home and this would just piss me off more.

Or maybe Mishy would pick me up, which would not be much different than Raymond doing it.

I groaned at my dilemma, and gently rub the throbbing scars on my arm, a reminder of how painful the day had been, before heading out.

Joss had football practice or I would have forced him to drive me, considering we lived in close proximity of each other and Katie had left early because she got off early today due to her not taking as many subjects and Aelin had piano practice with the choir. Some friends I had!

This is the point where I say FML. As I reach outside I am welcomed by a sight which startles me to the very core to say the least and I realise that I had, indeed, said FML a little too early because I should have said it now.

There in the midst of about a dozen girls stood the typical ' bad boy', the 'smart pretending to be dumb' boy, the playboy, Jason Dawfield himself.

Jason had graduated a while back and was in second year of university now but his legend lives on here at Stonecastle High School. The boys wanted to be like the football legend himself and every girl wanted to date him; admittedly even I used to have a teeny tiny crush on him back then, well, before the emergence of Nick into my life.

I mean who wouldn't fall for those mysterious ways of his, or his gold specked green orbs, his sharp, marble hewn like jaw?

To put it in simple words, Jason was the ultimate player, the rich kid who got everything he wanted with just one look, not that my siblings were seen as something different in that regard though, anyways, he had a 'don't give a shit attitude towards life' but all this with a twist, inside he was a kind boy.

And I know this how?

Well Jason Dawfield, was Mishy, my sister in law's, younger brother and the son of a family friend and business partner of my Dad. We had known each other for a really long time but we weren't the best of friends, at least not anymore, yes, we enjoyed each other's company and sometimes he being himself flirted with me ever so often but that was it. We had become distant over the years. Very distant. Not to mention he was also my my brother Ross's best mate since childhood.

I immediately put my thoughts to a rest when I realise that I think I knew where this was going as Jason excuses himself from the ladies he was flirting with and makes his way towards me; an action which gains me a lot of evil stares and scowls from the girls crowding around his motorcycle.

Yes, guys, see a typical bad boy complete with a black leather jacket, black clothing and a red beanie but minus the piercings and tattoos. I admire the view for a bit, he really was a handsome boy.

He strolls leisurely towards me, forest green eyes bright with a hint of the ever present amusement and mischief, not to mention the ample attention from the feamle population in close vicinity; when he can finally see me properly, outfit and all he lets out a low whistle,

"Woahhhh Mami you look hot!"

I roll my eyes at his comment, he wish he was Johnny Bravo,

"Hello to you too Jason. Now what are you doing here?"

"Awh! Don't be like that," he pulls me in for a side hug, crushing me with his strong arms and ruffles my hair, making me scowl at him and bat his hand away from my face when he is about to pinch my cheeks,

"Someone's in a shitty mood today." He points out the obvious with a smirk; no shit Sherlock! Obviously I'm in a terrible mood! " But to answer your question, darling, I am here to pick you up."

Now ladies and gentlemen is when I really should have said, 'Fuck. My. Life.' Because let's face it motorcycles and Jason Dawfield type of people are both bad news; they have one motto in life "Nut and bolt" and I was not in the mood to be associated with such people, no matter how close we had been prior.

However, this much I knew that I have been long been defeated, even before presenting my argument because you know it and I am aware of it too: you don't argue with Jason Dawfield and not lose.

Sighing, I nod begrudgingly, cursing my dear brother for putting me in such a spot and take the helmet from Jason's hands as I make my way over to his heavy bike or as he likes to call it, "his baby, his beginning and his end."