110. The Badboy

Tiffany Foster hated two things the most. Number one: Social gatherings. And number two: That darned asshole, Jacob Randall. She was minding her business, doing a little last-minute reading as she walked down the halls of Oakwood High. Her small frame seemed to shrink even further as she instinctively angled her body to avoid bumping into her peers. “Watch it, bookworm!” A gruff voice cut through Tiffany’s trance as a broad shoulder collided with hers, nearly knocking the novel from her grasp. Tiffany’s cheeks flushed as she clutched the book tighter, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. “S-sorry,” she mumbled. “Stop looking at the floor and apologize to my face,” the voice growled, and she looked up to meet his dark brown eyes. “Sorry,” she repeated again. Jacob smirked. “That’s more like it. Now scoot along, princess,” he said. Arrogant little shit. She moved away fast and approached her locker. while putting her book away, she couldn’t help but overhear the animated conversation of a