Chapter 2: The New Transfer Student Is Actually A Nerd

JAX

It was the beginning of a new school year. Which meant new students, new drama, and another year of trouble.

It was my third year in college, and I was starting it with freshly dyed hair. This time, platinum silver.

Just like people say... New year, new me. Well, fuck that. It’s still the same old me.

After washing up and throwing on black jeans and a leather jacket, I checked myself out in the mirror. I slung my empty backpack over one shoulder and rushed down the stairs.

"Good morning, Young Master," the old butler said from the foot of the massive staircase, holding out a cup of hot coffee. "It's a new semester. Master and Madam sent their greetings, along with some gifts for you."

I took the cup and drank it all in one go, my face going completely cold at the mention of my parents.

"Morning, butler," I said flatly, handing the empty cup back to him as if he hadn't even mentioned them. "I'm taking the red car today."

The old man's shoulders dropped slightly. He knew better than to bring them up twice.

"Understood, Young Master. I hope this semester goes well for you."

"Hallelujah," I muttered, snatching the car keys by the front door before walking out to the garage. I hopped in and sped off toward campus.

Beacon Hills College. BHC for short. Such a noisy, annoying place.

I never cared about school. I only showed up to kill time whenever I got too bored at home. I didn't need good grades or a degree. After all, I was going to inherit my father's fortune whether the old man liked it or not.

As soon as I pulled into the school parking lot, loud screams echoed from outside.

I grabbed my sunglasses, slipped them on, and ran my fingers through my silver hair. Catching my reflection in the rearview mirror, I let out a slow smirk. Damn, I looked good.

The second I stepped out with my bag, the screaming got even louder. Girls, boys—everyone here was obsessed with me.

I gave a lazy wave like the campus celebrity I was and strolled straight into the Arts Department.

Whispers followed me all the way down the hall. People couldn't stop staring at my new silver hair, the dark tattoos peeking out from the collar of my shirt, and the diamond stud flashing in my ear.

"Look who finally decided to show up," a voice called from behind me.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I turned around. It was Jeremy, with his usual plain black hair. I caught his eyes darting up to my silver hair with a flash of envy. Poor guy had been dying to bleach his hair for years, but since he still lived under his strict father's roof, he didn't have the guts.

"I thought you weren't showing up until the middle of the semester," Jeremy said, falling into step beside me.

"I wasn't going to," I shrugged. "But the break dragged on way too long. I was losing my mind sitting in that empty house."

"Come on, let's join the others. I heard we actually have a lecture today," Jeremy said, heading down the hall.

"A lecture? On the first day?" My brow twitched in annoyance. I only came today to show off my new look, not sit through a boring class.

"Oh, and there's a new transfer student," Jeremy added, lowering his voice. "Rumor has it his dad is a cop. Which means we have to be careful from now on."

"Careful?" I scoffed, adjusting the strap on my shoulder. "That cop should be the one watching out for me. You know our motto..."

"Money solves everything," we said at the exact same time, bursting into laughter as we walked through the classroom doors.

The whole room erupted into cheers the moment I stepped inside. Everyone was thrilled to see me.

Well, everyone except one person.

My eyes locked onto a blond guy sitting all the way in the back row, a pair of thick black glasses resting on his nose. He didn't even look up.

Was that the cop's son Jeremy was talking about? Cute.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, accepting the pile of gift boxes some girls rushed over to hand me. I'd just dump them in the trunk and give them to the maids and the butler when I got home.

Someone cleared his throat at the front of the room. The professor had arrived, and just like that, the lecture started.

It was painfully slow and boring. The man couldn't go five minutes without using his wife as an example for everything.

Beside me, Jeremy was already dead asleep, drooling all over his brand-new notebook. I didn't even bother bringing a pen. Resting my chin on my palm, I turned my head... and found myself staring right back at the nerd in the last row.

He was actually taking notes, chewing lightly on the end of his pen as he focused.

As if he could feel my eyes burning into him, he turned his head. Our gazes locked.

He flinched, his eyes widening before he snapped his head back toward the board.

Poor thing. Did I scare him? No way. I'm way too handsome to be scary. Half the people in this room would beg just to have me look at them for three seconds. So why the hell was he acting like I was a monster?

Just like that, I was pissed off.

"I'll see you all next week," the professor finally announced, packing his papers. "The group list will be sent to the class rep along with your topics. The first five groups need to be ready to present next week."

Huh? Present what?

I blinked, looking around to ask someone what the hell he was talking about since I hadn't paid attention at all, but the seats around me were already clearing out.

Jeremy was still snoring on his desk. Useless bastard.

I whipped my head toward the back row to look for the nerd, only to find an empty chair.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, shoving my chair back and heading straight out the back door after him.

Wait a second. Why was I chasing him? I could literally ask any girl in the hallway or check the class group chat. What the hell was wrong with me?

"I heard his dad's a cop. Don't hit his face too hard," a rough voice echoed from around the corner behind the lecture hall.

I stopped walking. Bullying? In college? Are they fucking serious?

Stepping quietly toward the corner, I peeked over. The blond nerd was shoved up against the concrete wall, his backpack and broken glasses lying in the dirt while two guys kicked at his ribs and shoved him around.

He wasn't even swinging back. He just curled his arms over his head and took it.

"Tsk. What a weakling," I muttered in disgust, turning on my heel to leave. Not my problem. I'd just find someone else to ask about the assignment.

Except... my boots stopped moving.

I stood there for a second, jaw tight, then let out a frustrated sigh and tilted my head back. Fuck. If I walked away now, it was going to bug me all day.

I turned right back around, rounded the corner, and cleared my throat loudly.

The two guys froze mid-kick and whipped their heads toward me. The color drained right out of their faces.

"J-Jax?"

"Bullying?" I slid my hands into my pockets, letting a slow, cold smirk spread across my face. "That looks fun. Mind if I join in?"

The two of them looked at each other in panic.

"N-no, we were just helping him up!" one of them stammered, scrambling to grab the broken glasses and dusty bag off the ground. He practically shoved them into the nerd's chest. "See? Nothing's going on!"

"Yeah, let's get out of here," the other guy muttered, grabbing his friend's arm. They both kept their heads down and hurried past me as fast as their legs could carry them.

I watched them run with disgust, then turned my gaze down to the boy still slumped against the wall, clutching his broken glasses to his chest.

"Is there something wrong with your hands?" I asked coldly.

He jerked his head up to look at me, his cheeks flushed red, before quickly looking down at the floor.

"Wh-what do you mean?" he stuttered, his voice quiet.

"Don't you know how to throw a punch? Or do you just like letting people use you as a punching bag?"

His fingers tightened around his bag. Slowly, he pushed himself up to his feet and pressed his lips together before glaring up at me.

"I..." he took a shaky breath. "I don't want to be a violent person like you, Jaxon Whitfield."

My eyes widened slightly. Then, a slow, wicked grin stretched across my mouth.

Well, well. The little nerd actually knew my full name.

He looked like an angry kitten trying to hiss, and for some strange reason, a sudden rush of excitement buzzed in my chest. He was shorter than me, so I leaned in close, dipping my head down until I was right in his space, forcing him to look at me.

"I'm not a violent person, glasses boy. Next time, I wouldn't even look your way," I murmured right in front of his face.

Before he could open his mouth to talk back, I turned around and walked away, waving a hand over my shoulder.

Wait... halfway down the hall, I realized I completely forgot to ask him about the damn presentation.

Ugh, whatever. I'll find out from someone else. I didn't want anything to do with that weak little nerd anyway.