The Boys of Hawthorne by Ashtyn Short

Chapter Eight 

Aspen 

As I look over its exterior, I can’t help noticing that four girls standing just off to the side of the entrance, their eyes pinned on me. 

With a sigh, I shake my head, ignoring their glares as I go to head inside. 

I try to suppress a shudder as the makings of a bad joke plays out before my eyes…There was a blonde, a brunette, an Asian, and a redhead standing outside of the school, the blonde turned to the redhead and says… 

There is little doubt in my mind as to who the object of their gossip is, considering that even though their lips were flapping a hundred miles a minute as whispers flew about the four of them, their eyes did not once leave me as I made my way closer to the entrance, and unfortunately, them. 

A few feet away, one of them in particular the redhead–eyed me up and down, with speculation in her mud–brown eyes. After a few seconds, and a lot of head–bobbing, the redhead raised her hand, beckoning me to her with a come hither motion of her index finger, an evil smirk sliding across her bright red lips. 

Oh, joy, I think in exasperation, my resolve already beginning to wane, and I’ve not even made it through the doors yet, my first enemies. 

With a roll of my eyes, I continue on my way, ignoring the four girls as I pass them by. 

Grasping ahold of the metal door handle, I take a deep breath, then exhale, pulling the heavy door open and stepping into the cool air conditioned hallway. 

Other students stand around chatting or rushing down the hallways toward their destinations as I take in my surroundings. Not knowing where to go, I glance around and spot a sign hanging on the off–white painted bricks that points in the direction of the principal’s office. 

I take a step in that direction just as a tingle of awareness crawls along my skin, drawing my attention further down the hall where I spot Boston and his brothers walking through the crowds of classmates, making their way towards me, which causes my heart to begin beating in a rapid staccato. 

Biting my bottom lip, I watch them approach, my eyes taking in Boston. 

They all look so much alike, I mean obviously since their quads, but I haven’t yet been able to figure out the slight nuances that differentiate Jackson, Lincoln, and Dallas from one another, but Boston is different. 

From the little beauty mark at the inside corner of his right eye by the bridge of his nose to the way he walks. It’s all 

too obvious to me. 

All four of them walk with a confident swagger, and each of their swaggers is just a bit different. Boston’s is the only one that I have paid much attention to though. I may have checked out his butt a few too many times over the weekend. 

But the most obvious way I can tell him apart from the others is the leather bracelet that Boston wears at all times. I 

Chapter Eight 

don’t know the story behind it, but it must mean something to him for him to never take it off, other than when he’s 

on the field. 

As I take him in, he looks way too good this morning with his hair styled in that messy, just rolled–out–of–bed look. He’s wearing a plain black t–shirt and a pair of dark denim distressed jeans, his bracelet, and a pair of worn black 

boots. 

The outfit is simple, but damn does he still look good, and just because I put the brakes on anything more happening 

between us doesn’t mean that I still don’t find him attractive. 

It doesn’t mean that I can’t still appreciate it. 

“Hey, guys!” I wave at them, a bright smile covering my face as they approach me. My smile quickly slips away when instead of stopping, Lincoln–I think–briefly glances at me with a look of disdain on his face, then rights himself and continues down the hallway. The other three, including Boston, don’t even bother acknowledging my existence as they strut by like they’re the top dogs in this place. 

What the fu*ck? 

2 

I can’t even try to play it off that maybe they didn’t see me, because one of them point–blank looks at me before turning his attention back away from me. 

But, why did they just ignore me and pass me by as though I’m nothing to them? I can’t help but wonder. 

I stare after them, watching as they talk amongst themselves and interact with other students that they come across 

While trekking down the halls of Hawthorne High. 

Hurt and anger course through my veins at their audacity. 

As they descend the cream–colored halls, a skinny brunette–the same one from outside, I note, taking in her outfit–sidles up next to Boston. He wraps his hand around her waist and pulls her tight against his side as they wade through the body of students around them. 

What in the hell? 

I can’t really be hurt that Boston’s being all cozy with someone else, can I? Even though we were just a thing like 48 hours ago since I put the brakes on anything more happening? 

“Ugh,” I groan, shaking my head in disappointment, maybe he’s not who I thought he was after all. I mean, what do I really know about him other than he’s one of four brothers, he is like a se*x god, and he plays football. 

Oh, and our parents are married to one another. 

I need to stop forgetting that very big fact. 

“Desperate much?” An Asian girl–also from the earlier group- says as she stops in front of me with her hands on her hips, looking down the hall to where the guys went, and then back at me, “He’s hers, so don’t even bother.” With those parting words, she leaves me standing in the hallway as other students bump into me, groaning about me just standing there as she runs to catch up with the boys and the brunette. 

Chapter Eight 

As the bell rings signaling that it’s time to head to class, I’m shaken from my stupor and realize that I still haven’t made it to the office to get my schedule and my assigned locker. 

Shaking thoughts about the four Jones boys from my mind, I continue on towards the office up 

ahead.