Bad Boys & True Love

“Good job today,” Maya, a girl in my class, congratulated me as we pushed through the door. Miss Silver had called me up to show the class routine so far, testing me, and I did it in time and perfectly. Even Miss Silver was impressed.

“Thanks.” I blushed. I slid my sneakers back on my feet tenderly, careful to avoid any blisters. Maya waved bye and walked to her car.

I sighed. I envied the freedom Maya had—not only did she have a used Sedan, but a driver’s license. I still had to wait for my dad to pick me up and I was seventeen-years-old. It was so uncool.

A few girls piled out of Silver Lining Dance Studio laughing while I tried to blend in. They were in my class but I didn’t know them too well—I had been in a class less-advanced up until a few weeks ago. They all ignored me and drove off to do whatever they did on a Thursday night.

Then one more girl pushed open the door. She didn’t immediately leave; instead, she walked over towards me and I got the feeling she was waiting for someone too.

I gave her a friendly smile. I think her name was Natasha or Natalie or something like that. “Hey,” she breathed, “you’re Stella, right?” I nodded. “Great job. I’m Natalia by the way.”

Natalia sat down next to me and shook my hand. Then she sighed heavily. “I should’ve known he’d be late.”

“Who are you waiting for?” I asked curiously.

“Just this guy,” she answered vaguely. “We’re not dating seriously or anything…I guess I just like the thrill of hanging out with him, you know?”

No, I had no clue what she was talking about. But I nodded along anyways.

Not one minute later did I hear the roar of an engine and watched as a motorcycle sped towards us. For one fleeting second I was terrified that it was going too fast to stop, ultimately hitting us, but it screeched to a halt just feet away. The guy sitting on it gave Natalia a wicked grin and it took me a second to realize who it was—Drew Buchanan.

We locked eyes and he winked at me. I was too stunned to react. I mean, he was this super hot bad boy—Christina would have swooned at the sight of him riding up on his motorcycle.

Natalia jumped up and offered me a smile before climbing on behind him. “What, no helmets?” I heard her mumble. “See you later, Stella,” she said to me. I smiled back at her, ignoring Drew’s eyes. She clung to his leather jacket and they sped off, leaving me all alone.

“Stella?” I heard my dad called. My eyes snapped to his; I hadn’t noticed him pull up. “Come on. Your mom just finished with dinner.”

I got off the academy curb and walked towards the minivan. How cool would it be I drove away in style like Natalia? All of my life added together wasn’t as exciting as what she’d just done. What a sad revelation of mine.

“Okay,” I mumbled. “What’s for dinner?”

“Meatloaf.”

I sighed. I hated meatloaf.

*

“Stella!” My mom yelled and my eyes snapped up to see her standing above me. I smiled hesitantly at her, putting my opened book on my stomach. “Hello? I’ve been trying to get your attention since I walked in the door.”

“Oh,” my smile turned sheepish, “sorry, Mom. What’s up?”

“That must be some good book,” she grumbled. I tapped my fingers against the cover of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. What can I say? I’m a Harry Potter nerd. “Anyway, I was hoping you could walk Winston.”

Translation: “You’re walking Winston whether you want to or not.”

I groaned and rolled of the couch. “My feet hurt, mommy,” I complained. That wasn’t a lie. I nearly fell to the ground when I got out of bed this morning because the pain caught me off guard.

“Yes and Winston’s trapped in that backyard waiting to be walked by his mommy.”

I pouted but she didn’t budge. She left for the laundry room and I called after her, “So I guess my feelings don’t matter…?” only to get no response. Fine, I huffed. I grabbed his paisley leash from the coat rack and marched to the backyard.

Winston was my pet Boxer that I’d gotten for my eleventh birthday. He was also my baby—but that didn’t mean I liked going for walks. “Hey, Winnie,” I crooned when I saw him eagerly awaiting my arrival.

He barked ecstatically and I clipped the leash to his collar before leading him back inside and straight through the front door. Mom didn’t like him in the house unless it was rainy or cold outside. But I let him sleep in my room sometimes anyways.

We fell into our routine walk as soon as we touched the sidewalk and I let him lead the way. I tried to ignore the weariness of my bones and the sting of my feet. I should probably take an ice bath when I get back home…but I hate those…

“Hey Stella,” someone called out and I felt my heart do a back flip. Sean Winters, my fabulously hot neighbor, grinned at me. He was standing in front of the lawn mower, shirtless even though he apparently hadn’t started yet.

I looked up at the clear blue sky, wondering why God was teasing me. “Hey Sean,” I replied politely. Winston tugged against his restraint as he tried to make a break for my gorgeous neighbor. I couldn’t help but slightly stare at Sean—his heartbreaking smile, how I could see his bright blue eyes when from here, the way his blond hair hung over his forehead and made him look so adorable I just wanted to hug him to death. He was so good-looking it made my heart ache.

Sean walked forward to the hyperactive Winston and scratched him behind his ears. I stood by idly, pretending my heart wasn’t fluttering at the speed of a hummingbird.

I had no clue what to say to him. Why could I? ‘Hey, I heard from my friend that you hooked up with Megan the slut Walters, since she was spying on you and all. Oh, and by the way, I have a really irrational crush on you!’

No thanks.

I settled for saying, quite stupidly, “Doing chores?”

Sean grinned at me. “Yeah. Not my ideal Friday afternoon, but, you know, my dad would kill me if I just ignored them.”

“Hey, at least you’re getting a nice tan,” I offered, smiling shyly.

“True,” he conceded, chuckling slightly. “Well, enjoy your walk, I guess.”

I nodded. “Yeah. You enjoy your chores,” I joked. He smiled back at me, exposing his gleaming white teeth and dimples. I could have swooned.

“Bye, Stells.”

I walked away, tugging on Winston who was apparently quite partial to Sean—who wasn’t?—while trying to get over the fact that he called me Stells. Not Stella. Did that count as a nickname? Did that make us friends!?

Winston barked and I imagined he was saying, “Stop obsessing over him. You have as much chance as a snowball in Hell.”

I glared at Winston and his blunt hurtfulness, and he wagged his stub of a tail in reply.