Page 23 of Mistaken Prejudice

A black crossbody bag, which I assumed was his replacement for a backpack, was slung across his chest. I eyed him as he toyed with one of the three silver necklaces around his neck, thinking about how his palms were still the only place on his body not inked, not including his face and neck.

“Happiness is for idiots.” He snorted. “Where were you this morning?”

“I had something to do.”

“More like someone.”

I raised my eyebrow at him before turning away. “Not that I owe you any explanation, but yeah, I met Miles. And no, I didn’t do him.”

“Yeah, sure. The guy have some sort of a magic dick or something? Was yesterday not enough?”

I hadn’t seen Miles’s dick, but I had no doubt that it would be as perfect as the person it was attached to.

“Stop being an asshole, D. You don’t even know the guy.”

“Earth to Andrei, neither do you.”

Once again, I turned to face him. “Yeah, but I’m trying to. That’s the whole point of dating.”

He wore the same frown he had last night when I told him about my intention to date Miles. I knew he wasn’t supportive of the idea, not because he was jealous, possessive, or anything of the sort, but because he was worried. Scared for me. Diesel’s past wasn’t kind to him, and he was burned one too many times by entitled assholes to have a preconceived judgment when it came to people like Miles.

“Bud’ akkuraten, ladno?” Be careful, okay?

I looked him in the eyes and nodded. Assuring him that I knew what I was doing.

“Fine.” He growled and crossed his arms.

“By the way, Miles invited us all to a party this Friday.”

“A party?!” Jess’s yelp almost tore my eardrums as he came crashing down on Diesel’s table, almost spilling the bottle of soda he had in his hand while doing so. “Where? When? Can I come?” He turned to look at Levi, who just sat beside us. “Babydoll, can we go? Please?”

“Are you sure so much sugar is good for him so early in the day?” I pointed out when Jess took another sip from his strawberry lemonade soda.

“At least I made him pass the sprinkled donuts.” Levi shrugged, pulling books out of his backpack.

“But they were pink. You know I love pink.”

“No shit?” Diesel teased as he poked Jess’s, you can already guess, pink shirt.

“So, we’re going? To the party?” Jess asked again as he hugged me from behind and leaned his chin on my head. I moved my arm and grabbed his neck, softly squeezing. He was like a puppy.

“Going to some rich brats’ party? Hell no,” Diesel snarled from behind me.

“Why the hell not?” Jess whined and turned around to face Diesel. With the way he held on to me and the force of his turn, he almost sent the two of us to the floor.

“Why not?” Diesel shrugged. “Do you want to spend the night with the young elite? Probably boring as fuck. Nothing but trust fund kids and beer pong.”

“All I can think of is free booze and party favors,” Levi said. “So why not? It’s been a while since we all partied together. Besides, I bet the cops don’t show up for parties these guys have. Unlike our old school.”

“Oh fuck ya!” Jess jumped from Diesel’s table and moved to sit in his own chair. “Back there, you farted and the cops came to arrest you, saying you violated the air or some shit.” He started laughing, and even though it was a joke, it wasn’t far from the truth.

At our old high school, there were drug raids at least once a week and let’s not forget the security you had to go through just to get into the school. I’m not saying there weren’t drugs, because there were. But I bet the kids here had just as much, if not more. The difference was that no one would do anything about it. And if that was the case, why not enjoy the free ride?

“We’re going, Diesel. It’s up to you whether you want to join us or not.”

The bell rang, and the teacher came into the class. Our first period was English, and the teacher, Miss Jones, was a lovely lady in her late thirties, with dark curly hair and tawny brown skin. She always wore bright colors, and her classes were one of my favorites so far.

“Okay, guys, I hope we all had a good weekend, but we’re going to dive right into existentialism today, starting with Sartre. So please open page—” Her words were cut off when the door opened, and someone walked in. Shay-Lee. Yeah, I forgot to mention the one thing I disliked about Miss Jones’s class was the fact he was also in it.