6: Good Different

I stared at the clock while willing it to move quicker. Usually, I was content listening to Ms. Hayes ramble excitedly about rhetoric, but today I was much too eager to go home and hide from the constant stares. I also couldn't wait to finally slide into my favorite pair of sweatpants and throw these painful boots into the depths of my closet, where I would never touch them again.

When I had walked into class, to my utter disappointment, I risked a glance at my favorite teacher just in time to see her take in my appearance. Her eyes widened as they scanned my outfit and her usual smile fell off her lips for a fraction of a second before she politely composed herself and smiled at me.

The next person I risked a glance at was Bailey, who was sitting in the front row, all the way at the end of the row. She, too, looked shocked by my appearance, her mouth falling ajar as she looked at me, but unlike Sasha, her gaze wasn't as judgmental. More confused and surprised. In an attempt to salvage our friendship, I take my usual seat beside her.

Bailey sat stiffly for a moment before turning to give me a serious look. "Sasha told me you were dressed-" She stops herself and stresses the next word, "differently today, but I wasn't expecting this."

She beat around the bush hesitantly with a soft voice, probably trying not to offend me. Bailey was always my favorite out of the two, because she was genuinely kind where Sasha was full of judgement. Unfortunately, I knew that she was raised in just as strict of a family as Sasha, and she held similar ideals about how a person should act and dress.

And I knew for a fact that I didn't meet those standards anymore.

"Listen, B, I didn't-" I'm about to tell her that I didn't change, that I was still the same old Lauren- despite the fact that was an obvious lie- but the final bell cut me off.

Class went by almost as painfully as it had earlier with Sasha in Calculus. Like every class before this one, students stole glances at me throughout class, and I heard my name among the whispers in the rows behind me. Bailey didn't as much as look in my direction for the rest of class and certainly didn't make her usual comments to me.

The dull sound of the bell goes off, effectively pulling me out of my thoughts about Bailey and Sasha. Bailey packs up quickly and practically bolts out the door without saying anything further, and I frowned at the now empty seat beside me. As everyone piles out of the room, eager to leave and go home, I pick up my belongings and follow them out.

Ms. Hayes watches me leave with a thoughtful expression, and I knew she was contemplating saying something to me, but luckily, she bites her tongue. I wasn't in the mood to dish out the familiar lies that I've been giving out all day, especially not when I knew I was in for an interrogation from Luke when I got home, considering it was likely that Cole ratted me out for my change.

When I make it to my locker, Lisa and Brendan are firmly against Brendan's locker for the first time all year, and I smirk to myself while I retrieve my books. After I gather my things, I cross the courtyard and make a beeline to my car. However, the second I reach the parking lot, I see a crowd of people standing somewhere behind my car.

My brow furrowed as I approached and heard shouting the closer I got.

The group consisted mostly of jocks in letterman jackets as they cheered for whatever was happening, clearly riled up. Despite the tightness of the jocks circling the crowd, I pushed them until I squeezed through the crowd and into the front. The second I break the inner circle, I see a recognizable face that I should've anticipated being inside the fight.

"Let me kick his ass, Alex," Thomas snarls, glaring heatedly at Nathan with his hands curled into fists by his side.

Alex Fisher was surrounded by his posse of kids on the football team and, of course, among the bunch was Thomas. Similarly, the infamous group of bad boys were standing right behind Nathan with their arms crossed, ready to pounce at a moments notice: Asher Baker, Holden Brook, and Vincent Salvador. Unlike Thomas, Nathan and his friends look completely calm and even amused at the prospect of a fight.

Nathan even raises his eyebrows in amusement as he says nonchalantly, "I hope you're not forgetting all the times we've fought and I've beat you senseless, Clark."

It was no surprise that Nathan's group and Thomas' group didn't get along. Where the popular guys were the "golden boys" of the school- another word for the douchebags- Nathan and his friends were the bad boys. Nobody messed with them: maybe it was because of the countless fights they've gotten themselves into, or the mile-long record they have with the police station and school, or the excessive rumors surrounding them. Whatever it was, everyone knew to stay away.

But of course, Thomas, Alex, and the rest of the football team weren't as smart. The two groups were infamous for hating each other's guts to the point of bloodshed, which is why I shouldn't be surprised that they were just having a standoff in the parking lot. I glance at Alex to see him stare at Nathan with a hard gaze, but he hardly looked threatening compared to Nathan, Asher, and Vincent.

"Back off the tracks," Alex eventually warns, his voice clipped. Then, he turns around to his friends and advises,

"Let's go to practice."

As the crowd disperses, I move to lean against the back of my car, watching the entire football team reluctantly back down and instead move toward the field. Thomas turns around with an unsettling look on his face, and when his gaze meets mine, I smirk confidently while remembering our last encounter at the party on Saturday night. He mutters something under his breath before following Alex and the rest of the guys toward the field.

Nathan laughs at Alex's warning and instead calls out, "I'll see you there on Thursday."

While I was unsure what and where "the tracks" were, I couldn't help but feel my smirk widen when Nathan officially wins in a standoff with his two friends compared to the entire football team. It was impressive that three guys could scare off the captain of the team and his fourteen other teammates so easily.

As they walk away, Asher shakes his head and groans, "I want to kick that dudes teeth in every time I see him."

"I was hoping they wouldn't pussy out so I could break Fishers' nose," Holden grunts.

Nathan nods in agreement to both statements, as his eyes sweep the parking lot, ending on me. I was leaning against the corner taillight with my arms crossed, watching the scene unfold in amusement. He holds my gaze briefly before his friends turn to see what he was looking at, and I hear Holden wolf whistle when his eyes land on me.

"Damn, who do we have here?" Holden asks with a cocky smirk, his eyes raking up and down my body as he takes a few steps toward me. "What's your name, baby?"

His slick voice sent shivers down my body in the worst way, and I just stared at him before turning my gaze to the guy I had a list of questions for. "Nathan, can I talk to you?"

Holden smirks wider. "Playing hard to get, huh sweetheart?"

Thoroughly annoyed, I turn toward him and snap, "Cool it with the pet names. I'm not your baby nor am I your sweetheart." Asher and Vincent try to stifle their laughter to no avail, and even Nathan's lips quirk into a smirk when I look at him. "Nathan?"

Holden looks dumbfounded that I rejected him yet again, before he regains his smirk. "If you get tired with Rhodes, let me know. I'll show you what a real man is like."

I stare at him in awe that a person could be so resilient and so annoying, but before I can open my mouth to snap at him yet again, Nathan cuts in with an amused wink. "Anything for you, kitten."

I sigh and narrow my eyes at his smirk, momentarily wishing that I could slap it off of his smug face. Nathan nods to his friends before walking over toward me, and I watch in satisfaction as Holden turns to walk away with

Asher and Vincent. I refocus my attention on Nathan and shake my head at him incredulously.

"Why do you keep such bad company?" I ask him first, my expression mildly disgusted from Holden's behavior.

Nathan surprises me by laughing at this. "Holden's a dick, but the rest of them are alright."

"I'll take your word for it," I mutter, and then look at him seriously, my expression becoming more somber. "So, what was that about? With Thomas and them?"

He just raises his brows. "Did I give you the impression that I wanted to tell you about my personal life?"

I was less than enthused to hear this response, but I had to remind myself who I was speaking to. Nathan Rhodes was arrogant, cocky, but most importantly, closed off. The mysterious air surrounding him was only heightened by his cold nature.

I tried a different approach. "What are the tracks?"

"It's none of your business," Nathan responds coolly, sounding almost rehearsed.

Deflated, I let out a breath, and try again. "Thomas never talked about you when we were together. Your name never came up in a month. So why is he so pissed you're at the tracks?"

I spoke about the illusive tracks as if I knew what they were, but I really had no idea. Unfortunately, Nathan knew this, and he would use my lack of knowledge to his advantage. It was infuriating how little information he was giving me.

"Thomas would never tell you about our business," Nathan says bitterly. "And neither will I."

My frown deepens, the crease in my forehead becoming thicker from the coldness in his words. What was that supposed to mean? And why was he so reluctant to give me the answers I was fishing for?

"And why not?" I demand. "Besides, he and I were together for a month. I know a good amount about him."

Nathan looks annoyed by my words, and takes two large steps toward me, until there's barely any space left between us at all. I'm against the car and have nowhere to go, but I stand up straighter to hold my ground confidently, lifting my chin a fraction higher to show him that I'm not intimidated by him.

"Trust me," Nathan drawls, his voice considerably lower. "You know nothing about who Thomas Clark really is."

It felt like I was moving in circles at this point, asking questions and being rejected an answer. I knew that Nathan was growing more annoyed by my constant questioning as I continued, but I intended on pushing my limits in the hopes of actually getting an answer.

"Then tell me more," I insist, dying to know more about the secrets Nathan keeps alluding to.

I challenge his intense gaze with my own, and try not to get lost in his mysterious grey blue eyes. His eyes search mine briefly, his expression giving away absolutely nothing about what he was thinking, before he shakes his head and takes a step backward to put space between us.

"There are some things you aren't meant to know," Nathan tells me ominously. "I'll see you around, Collins."

My words of protest die in my throat as he turns around and stalks away toward a motorcycle a few spaces down from mine. I want to roll my eyes when I see his vehicle of choice: of course the bad boy has a motorcycle. And then, I mentally thank Nathan for bringing his car to the party last weekend, considering I never planned on getting on that metal death trap.

It isn't until Nathan hops on his bike, revs the engine, and speeds out of the school parking lot that I finally get into my my car, Betsy. I turned it on while feeling extremely deflated from the day, and practically sped to the safety of my own home. By the time I pulled into the driveway, I was planning which sweatpants and tee shirt I was going to throw on, almost daydreaming about the opportunity to get out of these constricting clothes.

Unfortunately, the second I step foot into my house and go for the stairs, I hear Luke's low and frustrated voice call, "Lauren!"

I sigh with my foot on the first step of the stairs, looking up them to my bedroom door at the top of the staircase longingly, before backtracking into the kitchen, where I heard his voice. I walk into the kitchen and see Luke and Cole sitting at the counter eating pizza like normal. Except Luke is glaring at my outfit for a long moment before he chooses to just glare at my face.

"Yes, Luke?" I ask sweetly, careful not to add to his frustrations.

But, it turns out, I was his frustration.

"Why are you wearing that?" Luke's eyes are narrowed at me. "And why the hell did you slap Nina Alexander at lunch today?"

The second question caught me off guard, so I stared blankly at him for a minute before frowning. "Slap her? That's what people are saying?" I scoff. "I didn't slap her! I just called her a bitch, and to be fair, she had it coming."

It looks like this wasn't a much better answer, because Luke just looked at me like I had three heads. "What's going on with you, Lauren?"

"Nothing," I defend quickly, running a wary hand through my hair. I lean against the doorway, very aware of both pairs of eyes on me, waiting to hear the real answer for my change. "I just let Steph give me a few new outfits."

Luke looks at me disapprovingly. "Is Thomas making you do this?"

I look at him in shock and splutter, "What? Of course not!"

"Lauren, I swear to God, if you're lying to me then I'm going to be furious. Tell me right now: is that asshole scumbag making you dress like this?" Luke repeats, venom lacing his tone. "You don't have to dress like a-"

I throw my hands up in exasperation and shout, "Thomas and I broke up!"

Finally, the angry crease in Luke's forehead smooths out, and he looks at me in confusion instead of blind fury.

He asks confusedly, "When did that happen?"

Thankful for the distraction, I tell Luke the truth to make up for all the lies. "Last Friday. I caught him making out with another girl..." I trailed off and shake my head as I regain eye contact with him. "It doesn't matter. I broke up with him."

Unfortunately, Luke's more calm mood only lasted a second before his hands curl into fists as they slam against the counter. "That fucking asshole. I'm going to kill him."

My jaw drops when he stands up from his chair, ready to storm out the door in a man hunt for Thomas. I have to jump over to the counter to put my hands on his shoulders and shove him back down into the chair, but of course, he won't budge. "Luke, come on, calm down. I know he's an asshole, but you're not going to fight him."

"You're right, I won't," Luke glances at Cole beside him, who is smirking mischievously. "We will."

I groan and slap a hand over my face, trying to figure out what to say to make them stay put, before dragging the hand down and pointing an accusatory finger at Luke. "I'm seriously, Lucas Maxwell. You are not going to start a fight with Thomas, you hear that?" My gaze snaps to Cole and I narrow my eyes. "Neither are you Cole, got that? I don't need my little brother fighting my battles for me."

Cole, who was more threatened by my "mom voice" than Luke, who was practically immune, instantly agreed with me. Luke narrows his eyes at his best friend as if he were betrayed, but he seems to calm down a bit and finally slides back into his chair. I take a deep breath and mumble obscenities about how stubborn Luke was under my breath, but can't help the small smile from forming on my lips. My little brother and his best friend were ready to fight my ex-boyfriend for cheating on me. If that wasn't loyalty, I don't know what is.

"Thomas is a dumbass, Laur," Luke says seriously, his voice much softer than it had been moments before. "He never deserved you anyway."

I smile kindly at him. "Thank you, Luke."

To get rid of the seriousness that had suddenly clouded the room, I mess with his hair, and laugh when he groans. Looking back on it, I'm more than happy that Luke was always so rude to Thomas, because he clearly deserved it. Maybe Luke could tell Thomas wasn't s genuine as I thought right off the bat. Maybe he was just better at picking out the good people from the bad. Whatever it was, I didn't care: he was a better judge of character than I, and maybe I had to listen to him the next time he warned me about someone.

I ate a slice of pizza with Luke and Cole before retreating up to my bedroom, where I finally changed out of the clothes Stephanie made me wear and into a cotton shirt and my favorite pair of sweatpants. Afterward, I collapsed on my bed, letting out a breath of relief because, somehow, I had made it through the day. I thought about the eventful first day I had made it through, and shake my head. Now all I had to do was do it again tomorrow.

. . .

Stephanie had specifically picked out a dress for the second day because of the warmer weather we'd be having. It would be sixty five degrees for the first time in a month or more, and Steph had asserted that I needed to take full advantage of the nicer weather. I was wary to see what too-sizes-too-tight dress she would stuff me in, but surprisingly, I actually fit into what she picked out for me.

The dress was black and a few inches too short for my taste, but nonetheless, I changed into it when I woke up. The dress was backless and had cutouts on the neckline that exposed the tan skin lying underneath, and I paired the dress with a pair of nude booties with a heel that Stephanie had assured me would match perfectly.

While she was right about the amount of attention I would get wearing that dress to school, she didn't account for the weather taking a turn and instead being forty degrees outside by the lunchtime. She also didn't expect that, by the end of fifth period, the dress would be riding up my butt, causing me to pull it down every two seconds. But, despite all these bumps in the road, she had definitely gotten the reaction factor right.

Every guy I saw in the halls had his eyes glued to my legs or my chest as I strut by, and I was painfully aware of the fact that they were watching my ass when I passed them. There were so many wolf whistles thrown in my direction today that by lunchtime, I had detested the sound. Unfortunately, this also means Stephanie also accurately predicted the response I would get from the girls: pure hatred.

All day I heard the words "slut", "whore", "skank", "easy", and an infinite amount more following me whenever I passed a group of girls. Sometimes they whispered it, and other times they were more outright about their detest for me. Sasha and Bailey weren't even at lunch again today, so I opted for eating in the art room for the second day in a row and tried to focus on sketches instead of our waning friendship.

By the time fifth period rolled around, I was tired, grouchy, and did not want to go to Environmental Science whatsoever. So, when I shuffled outside of my classroom and ran into somebody, I couldn't help but snap, "Watch where you're going, asshole."

Angrily, I look up to see the culprit, and should've known to expect Nathan's smirk to be looking back at me.

"Well, someone sure is hostile today."

I sigh and bend down to collect my things and, to my surprise, Nathan bends down to grab a few of my scattered notebooks as well. When we both stand up, I look at him and give a sheepish smile as I take my books from him.

"Sorry, I'm not in the best mood."

"What's up your ass?" He asks not so lightly, leaning against the wall beside my last classroom as students shuffle by around us.

I complain, "I'm uncomfortable, hungry, and would rather stab my eyes out with a pencil than go to my science lab right now."

"Then just skip," Nathan shrugs.

I raise my eyebrows and echo in confusion, "Skip?"

"Yes, Lauren, skip. It means to not show up," Nathan explains in a 'duh' tone; but when he sees my face, his lips curl up into another smirk, and he leans back to study me. "You've never skipped a class before."

Determined not to be embarrassed by my flawless attendance record, I just shrug and say, "Why bother? It's easier just to go."

Nathan laughs at my expense with a quick shake of his head. "I should've figured you were too much of a tight ass to skip class," Nathan muses.

I frown at him and cry, "I am not a tight ass."

He raises his eyebrows to challenge this statement and says plainly, "Then skip class with me."

I hold his stare warily as I contemplated what to do. The hallway was already thinning out as people got to class, while I had been standing here with Nathan the entire time. My feet were aching from the heels and I was certainly not in the mood to sit next to my smelly lab partner, Nelson O'Neal, for ninety minutes straight.

And, because the idea of proving Nathan wrong was a little too appealing, I nod. "Where are we going?"

His smirk returns effortlessly as we start walking down the hallway, in the opposite direction of my science classroom. "I was about to go grab a sandwich from Angelo's with Asher."

I nod excitedly, feeling my stomach practically rumble at the word Angelo's. "You should've started with Angelo's, and I would've been ready awhile ago."

Nathan surprises me by chuckling at this and then, by some stroke of magic, his previous smirk melts into a smile. A heart stopping, beautiful smile that I've never seen him give anyone before, and he was currently blessing me with its appearance. "I'm impressed, Collins. Didn't know you had it in you."

I stop staring at him because he looks too good with a genuine smile on his lips. "I told you I'm not a tight ass."

As we reach the parking lot, I cast him a wary glance. "You didn't ride your motorcycle to school, did you?"

Nathan's icy eyes light up at the mention of his beloved bike, but he shakes his head, much to my relief. All too soon, his smile changes into a smirk. "I didn't, but I'll keep in mind that you want to ride it."

I laugh humorlessly. "You will never get me on that bike, Rhodes. I'd rather live a little longer, thanks."

Nathan rolls his eyes at my dramatic statement and informs me, "It's not scary and I can promise you that you won't die if you're riding with me."

I give him a sideways glance and mutter, "I don't buy it. I only travel in vehicles with a roof."

He shakes his head and promises wistfully, "I'll get you on my motorcycle one day, Collins. You just wait."

I roll my eyes this time, but as we reach his car, I have to take a moment to admire it's beauty. His black Mustang looked perfectly polished and glossy, looking even nicer with the leather interior and an upgraded stereo system. As I slid into the passenger's seat, the engine purred to life as Nathan twists his key in the ignition, and I'm easily impressed.

"Your car is beautiful," I gush genuinely, my eyes sweeping over the spotless front seat. Who knew guys could actually keep their car clean?

"I know," I didn't need to glance over at Nathan to know he was smirking; I could hear it in the smugness of his tone. "I fixed this baby up myself. Put a new engine in and updated the inside last year. She's a real beauty."

Per usual, his tone held a massive amount of confidence, and I wanted to tease him on referring to his car as a she- without mentioning that I named my car Betsy, of course- when I glanced at him. I had expected to see another smirk on his smug face, but instead, I sat a smile. It was the rare and genuine smile that rendered me speechless each time I saw it, and even made me smile, too.

When we got to Angelo's, it took every ounce of self control not to whine when the cashier told us that the wait would be ten minutes. I hoped all the way back to the booth that Nathan had claimed as ours, feeling deflated by the wait time. I sat facing the door with Nathan sitting across from me, studying something on his phone.

"Where's Asher?" I ask when I remember he mentioned that Asher would be here, too.

The door chime rang and I glanced at the doorway to see Asher standing there coincidentally. He was looking around, probably trying to spot Nathan, but when he saw me instead, his face lit up in an easygoing smile. He comes closer and I scoot over to let him sit beside me, considering Nathan didn't look like he was going to make room any time soon.

"Hey Lauren," Asher greets kindly, then his gaze turns to Nathan and his smile turns to a smirk. "Nathan, are you being a bad influence on Lauren and making her skip class?"

As always, Nathan's hardened expression gave away nothing. He simply narrowed his eyes at his friend as he shrugged and said, "She wanted to come."

Asher fake gasped at this and whipped his head to look back at me. "Lauren, I'm absolutely shocked. Skipping class, huh?"

I grin at him. "I had to prove to someone that I wasn't a tight ass."

"Don't worry, Lauren," Asher tells me with another easygoing smile. "Nathan is mean to everyone at first. He'll be nice to you soon enough."

Nathan scowls at Asher, who hops out of the booth to get up and order, his laughter following him. I laughed along, enjoying Asher's playfulness in contrast to Nathan's mysteriousness. He was right: maybe Holden was the exception to his friends, and the rest of them were actually cool. I turned back to Nathan and regarded him with a small smile left over from my laughter.

"How long have you and Asher been friends?" I question thoughtfully.

A nostalgic expression crosses his face, and I can see fondness in the softening of his gaze. "We've been best friends for as long as I can remember. We grew up together. He's like family."

"That's nice," I say softly. His answer led me to another question, "Do you have any siblings?"

Nathan notices my hunger for information flare up just as it had after school yesterday and simply smirks at me. "Is this twenty questions?"

I shrug, trying to play it off, and excuse, "I just don't know a lot about you, is all. We've gone to the same school for four years and all I've ever heard are lame rumors about how you killed a guy."

He laughs at this one. "Someone thinks I'm a murderer?"

Asher slides back into the booth beside me and quips, "Last year I found out that people thought I kidnapped the governors daughter and held her for ransom money."

I laugh because I remember that rumor circling around last year, and how ridiculous it was. Nathan chuckles too, as Asher shakes his head, muttering about how he's too broke to have gotten ransom money from a politician.

"Why don't you believe the things people say about us?" Asher asks curiously, looking at me with a sideways glance.

"Because rumors are stupid," I answer automatically. "I would rather not judge someone until I become friends with them."

"Do you consider us friends?" Nathan asks suddenly, watching me intently.

His question catches me off guard, but I regain composure quickly and smirk at him. "You're a pain in my ass," I tell him honestly, then glance at Asher. "But yeah, I guess we're friends."

"Aw," Asher coos, throwing an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into him. "Lauren, you're so sweet!"

While Asher is fooling around, Nathan studies me for a moment in silence. I hold his challenging gaze until he nods once, and that's that. Our food comes and we all pig out together, inhaling the glorious sandwiches without judgement. And it was nice.

And, as I sat in Angelo's with two of the schools supposed biggest bad boys, I feel thankful for the change Stephanie implemented. Things were different, that was for sure, but they were good different.