Nate
~Profile on our school’s best boy, Nate Geoff~
Remember kids, if you like my work, don’t reach out to get your testimonials from Centauri by dropping a message on our chat thread!
I may just be the deciding factor on who dates you and who rejects you.
All the more important, now that the Spring Solstice Dance is on our heels!
Hugs and Kisses,
Centauri
I snorted at the introduction Centauri had made. For an all-boy’s school, they sure knew how to sound like a rich, bitchy girl.
They’d aced my profile, though. I was a typical rich kid, born with entitlement stuck up my ass and a chip fixed to my shoulder.
It had to be that way, given Dad was the founding member of Mountain Hill Academy.
Sure, I’d get through school like a breeze and even end up in some prominent Ivy League Uni, but when was the last time he stopped to ask me what I wanted?
Not that it would have helped, though. I didn’t know what I wanted myself.
Coming from a long line of politicians, dating back to the Civil War era, my dad was a no-nonsense politician and a man with an iron will.
He imposed that both in and out of the family mansion. And boy, did he have big plans for me.
Plans I wasn’t supposed to know or bother my “pretty” head with until the time was ripe.
He wanted me to take over the family’s media business and the generations-old political empire.
Funny how we started out quite differently.
My family came from a long history of political influence married into scandal.
Grandpa Joffrey was neck-deep in a high-profile bribery case back in the 1970s.
Great-grandpa Gideon was said to have ties to organised crime.
It’s true that the apple couldn’t fall all that far from the tree. And we’d come through, hadn’t we?
We were among the top five influential families in the whole fucking nation.
I was to be molded into the perfect candidate to take over the chairmanship.
Hell, I was sure Dad needed me to become the next President when I was old enough.
I had other plans.
Honestly, all I wanted to do was hang out with his friends and take it easy.
I didn't care about the family legacy, the fact that they were the founders of this special academy, or even about politics.
I was more interested in partying, messing around with girls, and terrorizing the juniors.
You could call me shallow, or simply say that I was born into this life.
I’d agree with both. There were nights I stayed up, wondering if this was it.
If this was where the road stopped for me, and I’d be doomed to sit back and watch plebeians struggle while I got everything served to me on a platinum platter.
Man, I’d choose this kind of doom anyday.
I frowned as my phone rang. The last person I wanted to talk to right now was Mom.
My dearest socialite mom, so entrenched in the Upper East social scene, so busy attending and hosting events and being the perfect high-profile parent.
She likely needed my presence on some fundraiser for rich old men who’d been tossed out of their homes by their kids.
I wasn’t about to play along.
The phone stopped ringing. A minute later, I got a text.
Must you keep ignoring me?
A lump rose in my throat. In truth, she was the one who’d been so focused on her social status that I’d been nothing but the overshadowed son who was supposed to add to her diva image.
Sighing, I typed a quick message. At the gym.
And I didn’t feel like being scrutinized right now.
Between her and my dad, there was this constant, aching need to follow in the footsteps of political glory and social success.
My sister, Emily, with her straight-A grades, was more cut out for it.
I’d rather be in hell so long as I had good company.
And I did. My boys, we’d been together since elementary school.
Yeah, we were all spoiled brats who felt invincible in the face of trouble, but we had loyalty.
Once you were part of Nate’s clique, there was no turning back.
Daniel Nelson was my best friend, and he was a piece of work.
He was a fourth-generation trust fund kid, which meant he never had to aspire to anything.
His parents were socialites, always hobnobbing with the rich and famous, and they expected Daniel to be the same. But despite all that, he was still an asshole.
He was tall and lean, with perfectly coiffed blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
Man, he dressed like he had just stepped out of a designer store, always wearing the latest fashions and expensive watches.
As was the norm around here, he drove a shiny new sports car, a gift from his parents for his sixteenth birthday.
Daniel was always throwing parties, inviting everyone who was anyone in our school.
He didn’t even live on the school grounds, preferring to drive back to his huge mansion on the outskirts of town, complete with a pool and tennis courts.
He had a full-time staff to cater to his every whim, and he never had to lift a finger.
But the thing that really set Daniel apart from everyone else was his complete lack of pressure.
There was no worry in his life—no tension about grades or college or getting a job after graduation. He had all the money and connections he could ever need, and he knew it.
I was supposed to feel the same nonchalance and brute ease he did, but like I said, I still had sleepless nights.
My conscience was a festering little pest, telling me I’d already wasted more than half my life doing nothing.
I’d grown accustomed to not listening to it though.
Anyway, back to Daniel. He was pretty insufferable at times, always bragging about his family's wealth and status.
He never had to work for anything, and he never seemed to appreciate what he had.
Entitled and spoiled, expecting everyone to cater to his every need—that’s what Centauri had written about him. Spot on, as usual.
So, here’s what my conscience thinks. You could agree, but I don’t.
It tells me all this false living won’t be worth it. That the thrill of hanging out with a bunch of rich kids won’t suffice for all the entitlement I’ve been feeling.
But—and hear me out—isn’t that the thing about high school?
I wasn’t supposed to make the best decisions.
It was my time to be young and naive, to think that popularity and money were the most important things in the world.
The humility shit—that could come later. And if it didn’t, I didn’t really give a rat’s furry ass.
That’s what I told myself, at any rate.
I was never one for conformity. I wanted to live life on my own terms, even if it meant getting into trouble and disappointing Dad.
Frowning at the long character profile, I stopped at the part where Centauri had narrowed down on my “supposed starting point,” the genesis of it all.
Upper East Side's resident bad boy, Nate Geoff, is causing quite the stir at his prestigious prep school.
Sources tell me that Nate's rebellious streak has been showing since his middle school days, but things have only escalated since he started high school.
Skipping classes, getting into fights with other students, and racking up detention after detention—this guy is no stranger to trouble.
But here's the thing: despite his bad behavior, Nate still manages to be one of the most popular guys at school.
There's just something about his natural charisma and devil-may-care attitude that draws people to him. Even the girls he hooks up with can't resist his charm.
Of course, his parents are at their wits' end with their wayward son.
Nate is a regular fixture in the principal's office, and his teachers are constantly complaining that he's wasting his potential. But does Nate care about potential? Not a chance. He's all about living in the moment and making memories with his ride-or-die crew.
Sure, he may seem like the quintessential rich kid—entitled, reckless, and bored—but there's a sense of longing underneath that cool exterior.
Nate wants something more, but he's not quite sure what that something is yet. Will he find it amidst the chaos of the Upper East Side? Only time will tell.
Hugs and Kisses,
Centauri
See, that was what had bothered me all afternoon.
How did Centauri know I was looking for deeper meaning? It made me sound like a wuss.
I scowled heavily. Of course, they didn’t know what I’d gone through over the year everyone started noticing my bad behavior.
They wouldn’t either. That was to go to ashes with me.
That’s it. I couldn’t focus any longer.
Gym was over anyway.
"Bro, did you see all the new keys they gave out? There were like ten new people in there hogging the weights," Zack ranted.
"Yeah, and don't even get me started on the lack of fresh towels. What, do they think we're peasants or something?" added Daniel, rolling his eyes.
I nodded in agreement, but inside, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of boredom.
It was only week two of school, and already, the thrill of being the top dogs was wearing off. We needed a new target, a new victim to torment and bully.
It was then that I remembered our old middle school victim, the one we used to push around and make fun of.
But he had transferred out after my parents paid his family some serious hush money. It was a small price to pay to keep our reputation intact.
"Yo, Nate, we need to find a new target soon. I'm getting bored with this place," said Andrew, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I smirked, knowing exactly what he meant.
"Don't worry, boys. We'll find someone soon enough. But for now, let's focus on maintaining our reign as the top dogs of this school."
We walked through the hallways, relishing in our established sense of superiority.
We were the cool kids, the ones everyone wanted to be friends with. And we knew it.
But as we passed by a group of freshmen, I heard one of them mutter something under their breath. "Ugh, it's Nate and his minions."
I turned around, my eyes narrowed. "What did you say, freshman?"
The kid flinched but didn't back down. "I said you and your friends are nothing but bullies."
A surge of anger washed over me, but I kept my cool.
"Listen here, kid. We're not bullies. We're just making sure this school stays in line. You don't want to mess with us."
But I walked away, unable to shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, the kid was right.
Maybe, we were nothing but a bunch of bullies, preying on the weak and vulnerable.
I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. No, I couldn't let that happen. I had to maintain my status as the top dog, no matter what.
We walked out of the school.
My boys and I made plans for the weekend.
Parties, girls, and a whole lot of fun.
But in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if this was all there was to life. If being popular and cool was really worth it in the end.
I focused on being the king of the school. Because in my world, that was all that mattered.
"Ugh, can you believe all these plebs have keys now?" I groaned, rolling my eyes as we walked toward the parking lot.
"It's like, hello, this is supposed to be our private hangout spot."
My boys nodded in agreement, grumbling about the lack of exclusivity.
We used to have the gym and parking lot to ourselves, but now, it felt like we were sharing with the commoners.
"I miss the old days when we didn't have to deal with this shit," Kyle muttered, kicking a pebble as we walked.
I smirked, remembering those old days all too well.
"Maybe, we should start looking for a new target," I suggested, a wicked grin spreading across my face.
My boys perked up at the suggestion, looking around the parking lot for potential victims. But no one seemed quite right.
"We need someone good," Derek said, scanning the crowd with a critical eye.
"Yeah, someone who won't just roll over and take it," Kyle added, nodding in agreement.
I shrugged, not wanting to settle for just anyone.
It had to be someone who deserved it, someone who was weak enough to be pushed around but strong enough to fight back.
"Let's keep our eyes open," I said, clapping my hands together. "We'll find the perfect target soon enough. At least until Dad starts coming down on me about the family business.”
The boys groaned.
“I’m not saying it's what I want,” I muttered defensively.
“There’s news of a new transfer student, by the way.” Daniel grinned. “A girl.”
We looked at each other, our eyes gleaming.
“That’s a change,” I replied, playing it cool. A potential target? I wondered to myself. Was it worth it?
Would she be worth it?
We climbed into my BMW and pulled out of the parking lot.
Suddenly, I remembered I’d left my bag at the gym. Cursing, I stopped the car and asked the boys to wait as I rushed back.
I made my way past the teacher’s bathrooms.
The door flung open, and someone hurtled straight out of the bathrooms and into my arms.
A very short skirt. A rounded chest. Full mouth. And hazel eyes—pretty, but god awful amounts of the sooty, black stuff.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, “What d’you think you’re doing?”
“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered.
Ah, she’d be worth it.
I smiled.
Target spotted.
Comments (2)
See all