Bonus Chapter: Jayce's POV

If you haven't finished chapter 32 in the story, I'd recommend not reading this yet, as it has some spoilers!

This chapter is the first day of school, from Jayce's perspective... Enjoy! ♥️

~

Adrenaline truly is irreplaceable. Something to be worshipped.

Feeling the engine roaring beneath me as Goldcrest blurs past and the speedometer climbs is better than any high. Maybe even better than sex.

The wind is deafening in my ears. Mom has always been on me to wear a helmet, but the rush is just too good.

All too soon I'm pulling in the student lot.

This is the fourth and final 'first day of school' I'll ever have in this building. Freshman year, my nerves were out of control. Sophomore and junior year, I was more excited than anything else. I'd gotten the hang of high school by then.

But for some reason, this morning, my stomach doesn't want to settle down. The monotony of school is usually comforting to me. Familiar and secure. The perfect backdrop to cause disruption. Maybe I'm having an early onset of senioritis. I can't put my finger on it, but something just feels different. Maybe it's because this year, I'm different. Or, maybe I'm just hungry.

I probably should've eaten breakfast.

"J! Bro!" Christian Andersen and Deion Brooks are at my side before I even turn my bike off, and I automatically smile at the sight of my friends.

I spent the last month and a half of summer in Paris with my parents, so this is the first time I've seen them in a while.

"We missed the fuck outta you, man," Christian says, giving me the ultimate bro hug as soon as I'm off my bike.

"I missed you guys, too," I admit, pulling Deion in and rubbing my fist on top of his head.

"I didn't think you'd even come back after six weeks with a bunch of European chicks," Deion chuckles as he straightens up. "I'd have stayed over there."

I shrug. They think my summer was full of alcohol and sex and I can't help but smile at how wrong they are. In the past, that's exactly what it would've been. But I'm a new man. Or at least, I'm working on it.

Earlier this summer, I'd been seeing a girl. One day, my niece, Aimee, asked me what game I play with the girl in my room. She said it sounded like we were practicing animal noises, and asked if she could play with us next time. That changed some things for me, very very fast.

I realized that I didn't ever want Aimee to get involved with a guy like me when she grew up. I imagined all the protective fathers, brothers and friends who I'm sure hate my guts.

That was a turning point for me. I wanted to be different. And so far, I've done a hella good job. I haven't been with anyone since.

Christian, Deion and I walk into school, and hundreds of eyes turn to watch us. It gives me an instant confidence boost and the weird feeling I had in my stomach evaporates.

I'm used to being watched. I've spent my life in the spotlight. Sure, my parents aren't super famous like actors or singers or anything, but there's always been a level of fame I've had to deal with. And I can't deny that I fucking love it.

It can definitely be a drag, but overall, the pros outweigh the cons by far. People look at you different and treat you different when you're "somebody." You can get stuff you normally wouldn't, go places and do things you normally can't. Even teachers will bend the rules. It fucking rocks. In the wise words of Cersei Lannister, power is power.

"There's definitely some hot freshman this year," Deion remarks with an appreciative nod as we get to our lockers.

I ignore his comment, spinning the combination and popping the lock open without thinking, just like I've done thousands of times.

"Either of you fine gents want to start the year off right?" Christian asks with a daring smile, flashing a dab pen.

"Dude, you're a fucking legend," Deion hoots, grabbing the pen from Christian, lowering his head and ripping it.

Christian hands him a homemade filter, and Deion exhales the smoke into it before coughing intensely.

"J? You want?" Christian asks between coughs.

"I'm good," I say as we slam our lockers shut, heading to our first class with my friends in-tow.

After this summer, drugs and alcohol have become significantly less interesting. Every once in a while I'll be in the mood to get twisted, but it's rare.

This year truly feels so different. I've never had a first day where I walked down the halls without making a mental list of which girls I'd be down to fuck. I wonder if I'll start going crazy, the longer I go without sex. Or, like, what if I completely lose my sense of humor? The majority of my jokes are related to sex.

I'm totally lost in thought as I turn around a corner and collide with someone.

"What the hell?!" A very tiny girl yells as her belongings fall to the ground.

I'm ripped from my thoughts as I register coffee spilling down the front of the girl's shirt. She almost busts on her ass but manages to catch herself against the wall, as I stand there like an idiot. I should've tried to grab her so she didn't fall at all, but it happened too fast for me to react. I'm about to help her pick up her things, but instead my hormones take over and before I can stop myself, I'm sweeping my eyes over her frame. Damn.

She reaches down to pick up her textbook and coffee cup, and I can't seem to take my eyes off her. She straightens up, glaring up at me with these big green eyes.

Damn.

For a second I'm worried that my jaw might be on the floor. Damn. She's got nice eyes. She's got a nice everything. Damn. She's gotta be new. I'd definitely remember seeing something like her.

"I am so sorry," I manage, despite the fact that thanks to her, I can't really think straight. My fingers find their way through my hair, my most tell-tale nervous tick. "That was totally my fault, I should have been more careful."

I give the stunning girl one of my best smiles, hoping she'll give me one in return. But she doesn't. She just continues glaring at me. And it's sorta turning me on. What the fuck is happening? Girls are never immune to that smile.

"You're damn right you should've been careful," she growls in a low voice that's honestly really fucking hot.

I absentmindedly wonder how my name would sound in between her lips. Or how great it would be to have something else of mine in between her lips.

Shit.

What is wrong with me? I literally just met this girl. Ever since I swore off sex, I'd been getting pretty good at keeping my eyes to myself and my thoughts away from anything curvy. But for some reason, I still can't take my eyes off this girl.

Get it together, Jayce.

I plaster a smirk on my mouth and allow myself one more sweep over her body before gluing my eyes to her green ones, intent on not being a total creep.

She points a finger at my chest, still looking pissed. "You ruined my shirt."

"Yeah, I guess I did. I have a clean practice jersey in my locker if you want it," I hear the words leave my lips before I have a chance to register what I'm saying. "You'd have to let me help you get changed into it though."

I hear Christian and Deion crack up behind me and feel a slap on my shoulder. Any other year, I'd have felt proud of my remark, but between my promise to myself and her unfazed expression, I instantly wish I'd kept my mouth shut.

"No, thanks," she says, sounding bored, like she gets offers from guys to take her shirt off every day. Which she probably does.

I almost wish I hadn't decided to stop having sex, because I'm sure she'd be worth it. Almost. And she'd probably play hard to get, which would've made her even more appealing. She's bold and unaffected by me, which are two of my favorite traits in a female.

"It'd be too stretched out from fitting over your big head," she sneers before shoving past me with a surprising amount of force.

Christian and Deion guffaw like the high idiots they are, but I feel bad. I did just ruin her sweater after all. As we head to class, I picture how genuinely upset she looked, how I wish I could fix it and how I want to know her name.

"She's hot," Deion remarks with a lingering smile. "Incredible ass."

"Why you gotta be like that, man?" I ask, rolling my eyes at Deion. I mean, he's right, she does. But still. I don't like him talking about her like that.

Deion raises his hands like he's surrendering. "I'm just stating facts."

"Facts or not, saying that stuff out loud just makes you sound like a piece of shit."

"Chill, dude," Deion's eyebrows press together. I've never shut down his remarks before.

I realize that after almost two months of no sex and not hearing my friends' banter about women, it's sort of disgusting to me now. Not that I can judge them, I literally just made a joke about undressing her, three whole ass seconds after meeting her. I just don't like hearing Deion talk about her like that. Especially behind her back. I'm not saying it's okay at all, but at least I had the balls to say it to her face.

"Dude, J, what was it she said to you?" Christian laughs loudly, the tenseness of the moment lost on his high. "That you have a big head?"

"Haven't you made girls come with just that 'big head' of yours?" Deion continues the teasing.

"I bet she planned to run into you. I bet she did all that just to get your attention," Christian's voice booms through the emptying halls.

"And to get his big head," Deion cackles. "Bitches be crazy."

"Pretty sure she just wanted to not have coffee spill down her shirt," I shove Deion's chest, wishing they'd both shut the hell up about her. I imagine the fiery, disappointed expression she'd give me if she knew how they were talking about her.

Suddenly, I get an idea.

"We better get to class," I tell them before taking off in the exact opposite direction of the pre-calculus room.

"Wrong way, bro!" Christian yells.

I tap my pocket to ensure my keys are still there. "I know," I shout over my shoulder, picking up my pace as I head back in the direction of the student parking lot.

Hopefully, this idea will make it up to the tiny blonde.

~

As I'd expected, there's not many people at the mall. A few older women mill about - the wives of doctors and lawyers whose spend their empty-nester days shopping and sipping vintages. I'd been doing my best to avoid them. If they saw me cutting class, I'm sure my parents would find out somehow.

This is fucking exhausting.

I've been looking for a damn replacement sweater for over an hour. And hiding from every person I see. I'm being overly paranoid, but right now, I don't need to give Dad another reason to be pissed at me. He wouldn't be thrilled if news got to him that I was cutting class on the first day.

I see one of Mom's brunch friends laughing with another woman and sprint into the nearest store to duck behind a rack of clothing. After the women pass, I look up to see a sweater that looks almost exactly like the one my blondie had been wearing. Running a hand over the soft fabric, I pick out the extra small size and head for the register, wondering if her skin is softer than this sweater.

Something catches my eye.

A bright spotlight is shining off a mannequin dressed in a glittering, golden dress. Instantly, I can see her in it. She'd look fucking incredible. I can also imagine taking it off of her.

I shake my head to keep myself from going any further. I told myself I'd change, and I'm not going to let one very small, very attractive blonde keep me from being a man of my word. Grabbing the size I think would fit her like a damn glove, I bring the items to the register, already excited about giving them to her.

"Jayce Solis, is that you?" A vaguely familiar southern twang rings out as I place the items on the counter.

"Who's asking?" I look into the cashier's eyes and, unfortunately, recognize them.

I slept with this girl. We met at a college party last year. She had walked right up and kissed me. I'd always heard college girls were way more fearless and confident than high school girls, so I thought I'd give her a go. I can't remember her name, but she's got bright blue eyes, huge lips, a curly mane of fiery red hair and a cute spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She's cool, I guess, and from what my cross-faded brain can remember, amazing in bed. But that doesn't mean I ever wanted to actually see her again. Especially now.

"Please," she twirls a lock of hair around her finger and gives me a cheery smile. "As if you don't remember who I am."

"It's been a while," I shrug, not worrying to correct the rudeness in my tone. Does this really have to happen right the fuck now?

"Five months later and you're still the best I've ever had," she winks at me, leaning over the register so her breasts push against the v-neckline of her shirt. "You know I've got a break soon," she croons, looking up at me through her lashes. "I could meet you in a dressing room?"

"The only thing I want finishing any time soon is this conversation," I growl, shoving the clothes forward on the counter. I hate that there's a tiny twinge of temptation to take her up on her offer.

"Suit yourself," she giggles and rings up the clothes, totally unaffected by my intentional asshole-ness, which I sort of admire.

"That'll be $106.43," she says, her voice still cheery. "These for a girlfriend or something?"

I don't respond. I'm not sure how to. I hand her my card and hope she'll stop talking.

"She must be pretty special to be able to tame that wild stallion," she looks down at my crotch with a smirk, swiping my card.

"Yeah, she is," I say, realizing how true that statement is.

I shove the card in my wallet, grab the bag and stalk out of the store as the redhead calls, "I'm always here if you want another go, baby!"

Well that was a blast from the mother fucking past.

I can't believe how different I am.

Three months ago, I'd have had that girl in the dressing room, no questions asked. I'd have gone on a rant with Deion about how the little blonde's ass must feel. I'd have gotten high before class. And if I was cutting class, it would have been to have sex in the locker room with one of the cheerleaders. It sure as hell wouldn't be to spend $100 on some chick I just met. I've never put this much effort into an apology. Ever.

I feel as if I'm redefining myself. And it's pretty fucking disorienting. A little confusing, too. It's strange to care about things you never have before, and not care about things you used to love. Like suddenly giving a fuck about the way your friend talks about some random girl, and passing up no-strings-attached sex.

My mind is spinning as I hop back on my bike and speed toward school. Everything has definitely changed. I don't recognize myself... and I kind of like it.

Right now, all I know for sure is that fireworks go off in my brain and I can't think straight when I remember that blondie's brilliant green eyes.

~

Waiting for lunch to finally roll around has been the most frustrating thing all day.

By the time I push through the double doors into the quad, I'm barely able to form coherent thoughts. Just the thought of this girl makes my brain go stupid. I don't really get it. But I like it.

I spy a blonde head of hair that I'm 99 percent sure belongs to her. She's sitting across from a girl I recognize from parties. I think her name is Preston or something like that.

As I stroll to the picnic table they're sitting at, I can tell they're having an intense conversation. Preston's eyes snap up to me, and her lips part in surprise. She's got that look, like she thinks the sun shines out of my ass. Which, I can't exactly blame her. It seems to be a trend among the female population.

"Hey," I say as I slide in next to my blondie, internally kicking my dumb ass for being so bland.

"What do you want?" She spits back, crossing her arms over her... definitely different top.

"I just wanted to apologize for spilling coffee on your shirt. But what you changed into makes me happy I did," I glance down to take in her little maroon tube top, which looks amazing against her tan, toned stomach. It actually looks suspiciously like the one Moana wears, but I only know because I've watched it with Aimee.

"That's nice. Are you done?" She asks condescendingly, clearly annoyed by my resurfacing past personality.

"I-uh," I clear my throat, unsure of how to respond, hating myself for letting things my old self would've said come spouting out of me like a reflex. I sloppily grab the shopping bag out of my backpack as I try to come to terms with the fact that this girl is extremely different from ones I've dealt with in the past. "Right after we bumped into each other, I skipped first period to get this, to replace the one I ruined. I really am sorry."

"Thanks," she says the word like it's a question, taking ahold of the bag with obvious caution. It's kinda cute.

I can feel dozens of eyes on us. I can't blame them. I've never been one to give a girl this much attention, and in front of so many people.

"That was really... unselfish of you," she decides flatly, following her statement up with a sarcastic smile that immediately intensifies the already present tension.

Her damn boldness, man. The challenge in her eyes.

I just wanna... do things to her.

I'm in so much trouble. I've been trying to be good. But she's not exactly making that easy.

"What can I say," I shrug, unable to wipe the smile off my face as I obey my desire and lean in to whisper in her ear, "I'm a very giving guy."

I hear a couple girls giggle nearby. I'd love to have gotten that reaction from her, but no such luck. In fact, she just looks more annoyed than ever. Shit.

Her perfect features turn into a scowl. "You might not know this, but your dick belongs in your pants, not your personality."

A laugh explodes out of my mouth as her sultry glare continues piercing me. She's fierce. It's a little intimidating, actually. The line from Wonder Woman pops in my head - I'm both frightened, and aroused.

"You're funny," I admit, leaning back with a smile. My fingers comb through my hair, my mind racing between being even more attracted to her and feeling like an idiot for saying something so dumb. "See you around," I say before un-straddling the bench and walking away, not sure of exactly where I'm going, but certain that I need to get away from that girl if I want my brain to function properly again.

"Root beer?" Deion appears out of nowhere, holding an unopened soda out to me.

"Thanks," I reply absentmindedly, popping it open as I make my way to a picnic table on the edge of the quad.

"You coming to practice today?" Deion asks as I slide into the bench.

I ignore him, replaying the scene on a loop in my head, cursing myself for being such a dick, like the girl said.

"You're thinking about that girl, aren't you?" Deion tries again as the bell rings through the quad. "I saw you talking to her."

I lie, shaking my head no and staring off at nothing in particular. I don't want to have a conversation about her with Deion. He, of all people, would not get it.

"Well," Deion clears his throat. "I'll see you later, I guess," he says before spinning around and walking back toward school.

I'm about to follow him when I see the blonde girl walking quickly inside. We make the tiniest amount of eye contact and in that moment, I'm sure my stomach dropped out my ass and onto the grass.

Like a fucking idiot, I raise my root beer toward her as I study her walk.

I'm not watching in a creepy, I'm-staring-at-your-ass way. Though, she does have a great one.

It's more like... when you watch a sunrise, there comes a point when the sun gets bright enough, it becomes painful for your eyes to keep looking.

Not for me, though. I'm not sure why, but I would always keep watching a little too long. Even when it hurt.

~~~

WE HIT 500K READS YOU GUYS. So freaking amazing!! What a crazy milestone.

I know I've been away for a while. After finishing this book, I wanted to spend time with the family and friends I'd been neglecting for months while writing so intensely, but I'm slowly getting back into things.

I hope this chapter was a nice lil surprise for you! 🤗 tap the star if you liked it!

Read on, my friends!