n a u g h t y  t h i n g s
COVEY'S POV:

At lunch on Wednesday, someone boops my shoulder and I jump. "Woah, don't do that," I say when I'm met face to face with blue-eyed Venice.

He laughs, sliding in next to me. "God, you're still reading that shit?"

"It's not the s word," I mumble, marking my page and putting the book down. "Besides, I'm talking to a piece of an s word right now."

"Fuck, you don't cuss?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow. "What are you, a child of god or some shit?" Um, hello mister, you're dropping a bunch of curse bombs right now.

"No, I'm just an angel," I remark, batting my eyelashes innocently. "I just don't think my personality matches curse words." My fingers start fidgeting and I intertwine them to hinder my movements.

"Sorry about Kayley the other day," he says softly, looking around the common room. "She's my sister's best friend and gets a little protective sometimes."

I let out a tiny 'awe' and say, "Oh my, what if she's in love with you? That'd be so sweet!"

Venice tightens his jaw, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head at me. "No, Covey, she's not in love with me. My sister would kill me."

I shrug. "Forbidden love is the best kind of all."

"Where'd you hear that from?" he asks, looking at me intensely as if he's trying to figure me out.

"I don't know, sometimes I just come up with these one-liners," I say, smiling. "Like 'holy dino chicken nuggets,' 'snizzle crackers,' 'coco puff,'" I let my sentence trail off for a second, thinking about my Coco Puff. His dark gray eyes, deep voice, black hair, his laugh—woah, shut the front door. 

"Of course you do," Venice says, breaking me of my thoughts. Thank the dinos.

"Besides," I say, holding up the book. "That's like one of the biggest themes in The Great Gatsby. Gatsby's undying love for a married woman, his love of fantasies, of money, of expectations. Maybe you'll understand that when you read your SparkNotes or whatever."

He considers my words for a minute before saying, "You surprise me, Covey."

"I'm like that, I guess."

He taps the table a few times as if contemplating a thought and then says, "Hey, wanna come chill with a couple of my friends right now?"

I eye him warily, unsure. "I don't know if that's a good idea—"

"C'mon, don't be shy," he teases lightly.

"I'm not shy, just a little socially awkward," I mumble, pouting. "That's all."

He stands and grabs my arms to pull me up. "You'll be fine, the guys are cool."

Venice walks us across the common room to one of the corners of the area where there were a few guys talking. "Sup West, Landon, Tyler." He fist bumps the guys. "This is Covey, she's in Creative Writing with me."

Holy dino chicken nuggets they're buff. I give them a tiny wave and flash my signature smile their way. "Hey guys, bros, dudes—wassup?" There, I think I did good.

They all start cracking up, clutching onto each other's shoulder for support. The guy with dark skin and afro hair says, "I like this girl."

"Yeah, well this girl you like is already taken," I inform them with a hand on my hip.

They all look at Venice like they've seen a ghost. "Wait man, since when didn't you tell us who you're seeing?"

"I'm not dating Venice," I laugh, holding back my snort. "I'm married to food, duh." Who the fookers isn't? Chicken nuggets especially—and maybe Conrad's car.

******

Okay, but my bed is legit so fudgin' comfty.

I love my bed. I love my stuffed animals. I love my sleep.

So when my phone starts buzzing and going off like it's some emergency Amber Alert, I'm really not in the mood. I squint my eyes to see the contact, one all too familiar nowadays, and decline the phone call before setting it back down on my pillow. Two seconds later, it gives me another heart attack and I groan, swiping right and lifting the phone to my ear. What does he want from me?

"Coco Puff, I'm really trying to sleep right now," I mumble, my voice coming out groggy and tainted. 

"You sound sleepy," he mutters lowly, his smooth voice soothing my ears.

"Mhm," I say, yawning. "So can I go back to bed?"

He clicks his teeth. "Come sneak out with me."

"Sneak out with you?" I ask, my not-so-awake brain finally waking up. "Am I hearing you correctly? Are you high, crackhead?"

He grumbles a few choice words about how I'm probably the high one or some 'bleep bleep stuff,' and says, "I want to see you."

I look at the time, thinking he's absolutely completely utterly insane. "It's 12:00 a.m."

"I'm already outside in the parking lot," he says, clearing his throat. "Come on."

I shake my head to myself before just deciding to hang up. I need my beauty sleep.

He bugs my phone again, calling for the third time. "Do not fucking hang up on me, Cove," Conrad says, clearly upset. Haha, imagine I did it again...

"I look like a mess right now though," I say, struggling to sit up. "Give me like thirty minutes—"

"Do you think I fucking care if you look like a model or not?" he asks as if I'm ridiculous. "You still have the same body, the same curves, the same face, the same smile, the same voice, and the same stupid personality. So just come out here and get in my damn car already so we can go get a happy meal or some shit—"

"Woah, what's gotten into you?" I ask, trying to piece together his weird outburst.

"Nothing," he exhales, sighing a little. "Can you please just—"

"Whatever, Coco Puff," I grumble, getting out of bed and putting on my slip-ons. "But you owe me big time for this." Why the huckleberry heck am I doing this? Oh right, he said something about McDonalds. "You said something about a happy meal?" I remind him.

"Let's see if it can make me fucking happy then," he says, almost like 'happy meal' meant something else—you know what, this is why you shouldn't watch rated-R movies. Psh, who said I have? Once. Only once. Blinded my innocence forever. 

When I walk out of the dorm flat and get outside, the coolness of the air hits me like a train. Dang it, should've brought a jacket. I instantly spot Conrad's car in the parking lot, the taillights to his car lighting up the black pavement along with the moon. 

I tap on the window before opening the car door. "Please explain to me why you call me at twelve in the flipping morning to cuss at me and tell me to sneak out with you," I demand, my teeth clattering as I try to manage a glare. I slide in the passenger's seat. "That's very rude, mister. Very naughty."

"What'd you say?" he asks, staring at me intensely. 

"Naughty. That was very very naughty." I cross my arms over my chest, my black tank top suddenly feeling too tiny. "Stop staring."

"Oh honey, I can do a lot of naughty things," he whispers, his voice thick with promise.

I roll my eyes, distracting myself by putting on my seatbelt. "Gosh, you're my professor, Conrad. And I'm in your car at 12:00 a.m. That sounds bad."

"So be a good girl and don't tell."

"What do you mean?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows together.

"No one can know we saw each other outside of school," he explains, running a hand through his messy hair, and suddenly I feel the urge to reach out and touch it. Self-control, self-control. Okay, and self-control failed. My hands betray me and I rake my fingers through his soft, black hair. "W—what are you doing, Covey?"

"Your hair is so soft," I mumble in awe. "What products do you use?"

He chuckles again, the softest laugh I've ever heard and says, "Don't stop, that feels good."

I tug on his hair and whisper, "Coco, you laughed for me."

******
AUTHOR'S NOTE:

No, but I really love this book. Anyways, TOTALLY not me fangirling over my own characters-

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