Ratbags and Scallywags [bxb]

Chapter 22

A/N: Bear with me that none of these oncoming chapters are gonna be edited whatsoever lolol. I'll come back through and do a complete clean sweep either when I finish or when I hit another slump. Please give these boys all the love and encouragement you can, cause they love you! 

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We followed the Dean into her office and took a seat in front of her desk.

She could almost pass for a willowy old soul the way her slender, aging fingers brushed back loose tufts of cotton brown hair. Despite how frail and delicate she looked, somehow her movements still appeared strong and emphatic. I had a gut feeling she did ballet back in her day, which would speak a lot about her assertive personality.

When she picked up a pair of spectacles from her messily scattered, old fashioned mahogany desk, she pushed them onto her nose and leaned forward, staring straight at me. She cleared her throat and spoke.

"Right, Charlie Rascal. I know this was somehow your fault even without you telling me-"

"It wasn't!" Aubrey objected, taking both me and Mrs. Anderson by surprise. I looked at him, seeing his lips pursed with obvious disgruntlement. It was like he was genuinely offended for her being right on the money about me.

"Now, Aubrey. I'm sure you've had plenty of chance to grow closer in this last little while, but-"

"Mrs. Anderson, it really wasn't his fault," he insisted.

She sat back in her chair and folded her arms, raising her thin, partially drawn on brows in speculation. "Alright then," she conceded, "humor me."

Aubrey looked taken aback, puzzled. "Ah... huh?"

"From the time you entered that closet to the moment you got your head in his shirt," she instructed, "give me a detailed step by step account to convince me you were actually the one at fault."

"Well..." Aubrey faltered and looked at me unsurely. I grinned and nodded, egging him on to say whatever he felt like. Be it the truth or his own rendition of it, as long as he kept himself strictly out of trouble. Never mind me.

He looked back at the Dean and gulped.

"Yes?" Mrs. Anderson urged him on.

"We hid in the closet," he said.

"Okay...?"

I leaned my elbow on the arm rest, watching him with keen interest. How would Aubrey Keats get himself out of trouble with me, the predictably trouble-making class clown.

"And I stuck my head up his shirt."

"Pfft," I burst into laughter. He was really, really something.

He must have felt my eyes on him because he glanced at me and narrowed his eyes when he noticed my reaction. He was cute when he was caught in a pickle. I could no longer imagine him as a delinquent, no matter what. He was the purest, sweetest treasure I'd happily spend my life protecting.

"And?" she prompted, waiting for more as she looked back and forth between us expectantly. When she realized there was none, she sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"You realize I'm going to have to call both of your parents, don't you? This was a very compromising position and if I can't get a proper story from you, then they'll have to do so."

"Or," Aubrey said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk as he set forth to challenge her authority.

Strands of his blonde hair fell forward, framing his face like you'd see from a Victoria's Secret Angel. Even his threatening tone couldn't detract from his genuine beauty, not in my eyes.