Bad Boys & True Love

“Dance recital in a week,” Maya breathed, rubbing her hands together as we left the studio.

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered. I had a love/hate relationship with all my dance recitals. On one hand, it was terribly nerve wrecking almost to the point where I wanted to pull my hair out in stress. On the other, dancing was what I lived for. At school, even at home, I felt awkward and out-of-place like something was missing. But on the stage I was whoever I wanted to be. It felt right.

I let my hair out if its tight bun. “Yeah,” I murmured, “it’s going to be great.”

Maya laughed carelessly. “Of course you can say that, you’re one of the best dancers in the entire academy!”

I blushed like a tomato in response. I could stick the routine fairly quickly, but I really doubted I was the best. “Whatever. You’re just as good a dancer.”

She shook her head. “Miss Silver adores you, Stella. You’re like her little protégée.”

“Stop!” I said with a laugh. She grinned back at me. “If you say one more thing, I’ll become so obnoxious you won’t be able to bear being around me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled happily. “Do you need a ride?”

I shook my head and dug around my bag for my phone. “Nah, my dad usually picks me up. I just have to call him. Thanks though, Maya.”

“Hey, no problem. I still owe you pizza.” Maya smiled one last time before walking over to her used Sedan. I grinned.

“See you later, Stella,” some girls called to be as they left the studio. I waved back to them and texted my dad that I was ready.

I looked up at the sky. It was dark and cloudy; it wouldn’t be long before it started raining buckets. If Dad didn’t hurry then this was really going to suck. As much as I loved rain, I didn’t want to get soaked. Especially since I was already feeling a bit sick like I was catching something. And being sick a week before the recital was not acceptable.

There were footsteps behind me but I didn’t turn around. Not until that person purposefully bumped into me, sending me forward a step or two that is. I turned around to see Natalia glaring at me.

“Uh…” I stared at her awkwardly, wondering what on Earth I did wrong. We were totally cool at my last practice. We even ate at Tony’s together. “Hey?”

She fixed her ice-cold obsidian eyes on me. “I heard you slept with Drew Buchanan. Can you say slut?”

I blinked in surprise. Holy mother of God. “I—I swear I didn’t! Where’d you hear that?”

Natalia shook her head with a terrible grimace. She looked disgusted at the sight of me and I felt queasy. These were the kinds of rumors being spread about me? I kissed him, sure, but I wouldn’t have sex with him.

“Whatever. I can’t believe you, Stella.” Natalia one last glare that made me shrink in my shoes before stomping off, pushing my shoulder in the process.

I stood there in disbelief. “I didn’t do it,” I yelled after her. “Why can’t you believe me?”

At that exact second, I heard the growl of a motorcycle engine before the Devil himself was stopping in front of me, grinning mischievously. I groaned. Natalia was on the other side, looking like she’d just gotten slapped.

“Hey there my little Stella Artois, need a ride?” Drew smirked like he was totally irresistible.

“Why is this happening to me?” I mumbled, looking up at the dark sky. He was laughing at me up there, I knew it.

“Just hop on. C’mon it’s going to rain soon.” He was totally oblivious to Natalia throwing both of us death glares. “Unless you’re scared that is,” he added with a wicked grin, confusing my hesitation for fear.

I looked at him imploringly. His face slowly crumpled in confusion; Drew Buchanan was not one to be turned down. “My dad’s on his way.”

“Text him to go fuck himself,” he said, his dark chocolate-colored eyes flickering with impatience.

I scoffed. “Whatever. I can’t believe you told people we slept together.” I glared at him, trying to look more angry than sad.

He laughed, sharpening my glare. “Kitten, I didn’t tell a soul that you spent the night.”

I crossed my arms. “Oh yeah? Because someone called me a slut and I don’t take too kindly to that. So if you could please just piss off and forget I even existed, that’d be great.”

Drew looked at me the same why Natalia had. “Goddamn, you’re a bitch. You’re the only begging to hang out with me.”

“Maybe in the next life.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text message from Dad:

Flooded in at work, find a ride. Dad.

I stared at for a moment and Drew restarted his bike. “Wait!” He turned to me skeptically. Oh this was going to come back and bite me in the butt. I sighed heavily. “I need a ride.”

He smirked. Fuck my life.

Well it could be worse. At least Natalia was long gone now…spreading more rumors about me, I suppose. I climbed on behind me, feeling disgusted with myself as I grabbed his waist. Drew looked over his shoulder with an annoyingly smug expression. “Hang on, kitten.”

“You are so—” I was interrupted by my own sudden scream as he lurched forward and sped away from Silver Lining Dance Studio.

I closed my eyes, burying my face in his leather jacket. He was going so much faster that before like he was trying to prove something. “Slow down,” I shrieked at him, only making him laugh wildly. I held him tighter, positive that I was bruising his lungs.

It wasn’t until we were nearly stopped when I realized we weren’t heading towards my house. We weren’t even heading towards his house.

“Oh God, are you going to take me to the middle of nowhere and rape me?” I asked, hugging him with even more strength.

“It’s not rape if you want it,” he objected jokingly.

“Not funny. Where are we?”

“Chill out, I’m not a serial rapist or anything.”

I rolled my eyes. “You tactfully avoided my question.”

“Yeah, it was neat how I did that, wasn’t it?”

“Stop doing it!” Anger pumped through my veins. I didn’t even want to get on his stupid bike in the first place, much less be dragged some place without my consent. “Where are we, Drew?”

The sky started sprinkling. I rested my cheek against his cool leather back. I was hungry and tired from practice. I wanted to go home, mend my toes, and take a nice warm bath. I should probably practice some of my ballet too. “Please,” I whimpered.

“You, Stella Artois, are in for a treat.”

“It’s Preston,” I spat. “I’m not liquor, Buchanan.”

He didn’t care. Every word I said might as well have landed on deaf ears. “You were so chill last time I saw you. Loosen up, kitten. I’ve got a surprise for you.”