~♡~Mac's POV~♡~

There are a million reasons why people love to celebrate Halloween. One obvious reason is, on that day, you can be anyone or anything you want, however bizarre your choice is. I look around me and the evidence of it is everywhere tonight.

From Dracula to Santa, you name it and there they are. But one particular girl draws my attention.

In the middle of the room, a strikingly beautiful girl is swaying her body from left to right in a sexy manner to the beat of the loud song the DJ is spinning. The girl has curves to die for and a pair of killer legs long enough to draw the attention of almost every straight male in the room.

With every movement she makes, her long, wavy hair bounces perfectly on her perky breasts that look like they could fall out of that skin-tight, white satin dress she's wearing any second. But she doesn't seem to care about that or the fact that everyone can almost see her buttcheeks because of her super short dress.

Hmm. I wish I had that much confidence in myself. I bet it'd be fun.

"Ironic, huh?" a voice yells over the loud music. I turn to the origin of the voice and realize that Dylan Little, my filthy rich ex-neighbor who owns this mansion we're having the party at, is standing right next to me. He's one to talk about irony when his towering height forces me to look up at him.

"Sophia Wilde" – his eyes gesture to the girl in the middle of the room –  "dressing up as an angel!" He refers to the pair of huge, white angel wings on her back.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He answers my question with a playful smirk. "See for yourself."

When I draw my gaze back to the middle of the room, a half-naked boy wearing only a pair of firefighter trousers approaches Sophia from behind, joining in her sultry dance. When he puts his hands on her hips, she turns her head a little to have a quick look at the boy. She smiles a rather crooked and proud smile when her gaze falls to his washboard abs.

Sophia turns around and plants a long, hot kiss on the boy. Her luscious, plump red lips mash together with his as his fingers trace the outline of her body. She vigorously yanks the straps of his suspenders, pulling him closer to her while his hands continue to trail down. I let out a small gasp while Dylan chuckles a little when we see him squeezing her buttcheeks. They continue to make out passionately, getting lost in their own world.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is clearly why she's not an angel," Dylan continues with a winning smirk after proving his point. Then, as if realizing something important, he draws his thin eyebrows together quickly. "Well, unless it's a slutty angel–"

I thrust my elbow into his stomach and he squeals like a little girl. "What the heck was that for?"

"Ever heard of slut-shaming?"

"Hmm..." He looks up for a quick second and narrows his eyes a little, acting dumb before returning his gaze to me. "Is it slut-shaming when the person you're talking about is really a slut?"

I raise my brow, answering in silence.

"Oh, come on, Mac! Everyone knows she's a whore, I mean that's practically her nickname! And why?" He gives a short pause. "Because she does that" – he points at the girl who is now licking the firefighter's face from bottom to top – "to everyone she met!"

"Including you?"

"Oh, no, not me darling." He wraps his arms around my shoulder. "You know I only have my eyes on you," he concludes with a grin.

I shake my head lightly while trying to contain my laughter. Although there's nothing remotely romantic between us, it never stops him from throwing playful remarks every once in a while. But that's what I like about him, he never cares about what other people thinks.

I've known Dylan since we were 5 and we were almost inseparable ever since. He used to live next door to me until his father – now a highly successful software engineer – created a software that worth 2-billion-dollars and became a billionaire overnight.

Of course, Dylan hadn't always acted like this. Believe it or not, he was a really kind and shy boy back in the day. But one thing led to another and he became who he is. Knowing his history, I can't really blame him for turning into the man he is now. Being a jerk is his only defense mechanism and to be honest, I almost feel sorry for him.

"You know, there's a chance he's her boyfriend."

Dylan snorts. "Wanna bet?"

"Sure," I reply with a curl on my lips.

Dylan lets out a small laugh. "Why do you always choose to see the best in people, huh?"

I draw my brows together. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing." But his expression turns sympathetic instead. "Just... you should really be careful with that." Our eyes lock with each other and I can see in his green eyes he's really concerned about me.

"Anyway" – I grab his arm that was resting on my shoulder and move away from it – "you know Peter would go ballistic if he saw what you did, right?"

Peter Krasinski, my boyfriend of 6 months, has always been quite over protective. Anytime he sees me even talking to another guy, his face will turn red in an instant. In fact, that's why Dylan and I haven't been hanging out with each other lately. But other than that, Peter's the nicest guy I've known.

Plus, he's really cute.

"Ah..." He puts on an obviously fake sad and disappointed face. "Who gives a damn about that guy?"

"I do," I retort. "He's my boyfriend, remember?"

"So?"

I throw him a death glare in return.

"See, this?" He gives a short pause as he observes me from top to bottom. "This is why you are not worthy to be the devil," he says, referring to my costume.

My costume is pretty simple and definitely way more comfortable when compared to others', just a black long sleeve top and a bright red tutu skirt.

"What's wrong with me being the devil?" I ask, trying to act innocent while my fingers play with the devil ears on top of my hairband.

He bursts into laughter. "Seriously, Mac! You? The devil?" He snorts. "Hell would have to stop burning first before you become the devil."

I huff and my lips curve downwards a little. Somehow, that sounds more like an insult than a compliment. "This is Halloween, D! I can be anyone I want! Just like that girl can be an angel, I can be the devil!" I conclude with another huff.

To my annoyance, his laughter grows louder instead. "I bet you bought the costume last minute too, right?"

Ugh! How does he know that?

Yes, I just bought the costume at a nearby shop an hour ago. I wasn't planning on going to this party today because I was supposed to volunteer at Forever Home, a nursing home not far from Westwood College. But when I got there earlier, the kind people there advised me – or more like forced me – to go here instead. They said I should 'enjoy my youth' before I end up like them.

Honestly, I don't understand what they mean. It's not like I'm not enjoying my life as it is.

Anyway, when I went to the shop to buy a costume, this was the only thing they got in my size and I happened to like it a lot too.

Well, it was either this or a sultry Little Mermaid costume and I sure as hell am not going to a party in a freaking bikini.

"God! You are so predictable!" Dylan continues before doubling up with laughter.

With a clear pout on my face, I counter-attack, "Who are you supposed to be anyway? Honestly, you look like you haven't washed your hair in years."

Dylan is wearing an expensive satin purple suit with a green vest underneath it. Even though he already has pale skin, he still applies thick, white cream on his face and a bright red lipstick too wide for his thin lips. His usually neat, red hair is hidden underneath a messy, green wig that looks like it hasn't been washed in over a decade.

"You're kidding, right?" he asks, stopping his laughter in a split second. "Isn't it obvious?" His finger points side to side at his smeared lipstick but I still don't get what he means.

"I'm The Joker!"

"Who?"

He lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head. "Seriously, Mac, you need to stop visiting the library and live your freaking life for a second."

I roll my eyes and try to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Have you seen Peter?"

"Yeah," Dylan replies. "I think I saw him heading upstairs with that purple-haired friend of yours... What was her name again?"

"Hayley?"

He snaps his finger. "Yes!"

That's when I hear a loud voice coming from the middle of the room. "Get away from my date, you jackass!"

Dylan and I turn our heads in the direction of the voice in an instant. A guy wearing only white shorts, white sneakers and a pair of angel wings bursts onto the middle of the room. His ripped bare chest is rising up and down in anger. The girl from earlier, Sophia, stops kissing the firefighter and a small smirk comes across her lips.

Is she enjoying this?

"I said," the male angel stops right in front of them with a threatening look on his face, "Get your hands off her!"

"Chill, dude!" the firefighter answers, bringing his hands up to the side of his head. Then, a part of his lips curves up slightly, creating a mocking smile. "She was asking for it."

The angry angel grunts and clenches his fist. Sophia rolls her eyes and takes a few steps back. Then, before any of us can blink, the angry angel throws a punch to the firefighter's face, making the rest of the people in the room — including Dylan and me — gasp loudly.

The angel's punch isn't strong enough to throw the firefighter to the ground, yet a drop of blood comes out from his lips. The firefighter drags a thumb to wipe the blood off his lips. Then, he gives a small, mocking laugh.

"Big mistake, dude. Big mistake."

Within seconds, they begin to throw punches at each other. Everyone else steps back in an instant, not wanting to get in the way of the commotion. Meanwhile, a few amused people take out their phone and start recording the fight.

The angel grabs the firefighter's suspenders and kicks him in the stomach. The latter groans loudly but he won't bulge. Instead, he continues pushing the angel against the wall, making a loud thump sound as the latter's body hits the creme-painted wall.

"Dammit! Not near the vase!" Dylan mutters to himself, referring to the huge, obviously expensive Chinese vase near the two fighting men. He drags a hand to mess up his awful wig. "Dad's gonna kill me!"

The angel throws another punch at the firefighter's face. This time, the firefighter is sent a couple of steps back. As he stumbles backward, he's about to hit the blue vase, making Dylan screeches in horror. Luckily, the firefighter regains his balance and stops right before it.

"Okay, that's it!" Dylan says. He turns to look at me before he goes. "Mac, it's nice to see you, but I gotta go or else I'm dead." Then, he points both hands at me with a smile while walking backward. "Enjoy the party!"

He spins on his heel and runs towards the two fighting men.

I can't help but smile at his action while shaking my head lightly. I'd love to stay and see what happens next, but I decide I should continue looking for Peter. So, I turn around and head upstairs.

The second floor is as crowded as the first floor, if not more. The sound of people talking to each other fills the hallway. I continue to look around, searching for Peter but he's nowhere to be found. But, among the familiar faces, I spot Logan Tierney – one of Peter's football teammate – leaning to one of the many room's doors with a paper cup on his hand. He's talking to a blonde girl wearing a witch costume.

"Logan!" I yell.

When he sees me, his eyes widen in shock. He quickly shoves the blonde girl away and approaches me in panic. "M-Mac, hey! I thought you weren't going to come tonight?"

"Yeah, I got some free time, so..." I shrug a little before steering the conversation back to its original purpose. "Have you seen Peter?"

"Uhm..." Clear hesitation spreads in his face in an instant.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"N-n-nothing!" he stutters. "I haven't seen him at all."

Hmm. The way Logan shifts his eyes between me and the door he was guarding constantly makes my suspicion grows stronger. What is he hiding in there?

"Logan, what's going on?"

I move closer to the white-painted door and in a split second panic fills his face.

"Uhm, Mac!" He steps in front of me, blocking my way. "I think I saw him downstairs. Maybe you-"

I ignore him. My small stature makes it easier for me to duck under his arm and evade him before I continue walking towards the door. When I reach it, however, I stop for a while, unsure if I want to know what's behind it. But, as I put my hand on the doorknob, I begin to hear strange voices coming from inside the room.

"More, Peter, more!" a girl moans loudly while I can hear the bed creaks.

"Dammit! You're so tight!"

That's... Peter's voice. What follows is like hearing a scene from a cheap porn movie, not that I've ever watched any.

"Mac," Logan interrupts, "I think you should–"

At that moment, I can feel my blood boils and my temper rises. The determination in me grows stronger and I find myself opening the door.

The sight in front of me makes my jaw drops to the ground. Hayley Martin, the girl I thought was my best friend, is lying on the bed with Peter on top of her – naked. Their clothes are scattered all over the floor and I'm smart enough to know what's going on.

The two gasp in unison the very second they see me. Hayley quickly pulls up the sheets to cover her body while Peter jumps off the bed at lightning speed. My eyes widen in shock and anger when I see he's still hard. When he finally notices I can see his erect manhood, he gasps loudly and searches the room for something to cover it. His gaze finally falls to the pillow under Hailey's head. He quickly yanks the pillow, inadvertently sending Hayley backward.

"Ouch!" Hayley complains as her head hits the headboard.

"Mac, it's not what it looks like," Peter tries to defend himself while anxiously covering his private area with the pillow.

"And what does it look like? Two people practicing for the next WWE match?" I retort.

He shifts his gaze rapidly around the room while trying to find a way to escape the dead-end street.

"How long?" I say, blood rushing to my head as I try to contain my anger.

He gulps. "Wh-what are you talking about, Sweetie?" Peter takes a step forward towards me and I throw him a killing glare that is sharp enough to stop him.

"How long?" I repeat myself with a raised voice.

"Ugh! Cut it out already!" Hayley rolls her eyes. She wraps the blanket around herself and stands up. "We've been doing this for 6 whole months and you didn't even have a single clue, Mac!"

I gasp in shock. "6 months?! B-but-"

"Why?" She stops right in front of me. "Isn't it obvious? You're too much of a good girl, that's why! You're too fucking perfect!"

I narrow my eyes. "What are you talking about?" I squeal a little.

"Everything you do is so predictable. You won't do this, you won't do that. Always doing the right thing and you know what?" She gives a short dramatic pause. "That's freaking boring!" Her sudden, loud voice makes me flinch.

Lowering her voice a little, she continues, "The only reason why Peter even dated you in the first place is because you helped him with all of his assignments!"

"What?!"

Then, as a victorious smile grows on her lips, she twirls a strand of her purple hair and walks towards me. "Plus, let's just face it. I'm way hotter than you are."

I stare at her with disbelief, my mouth is still wide open. What makes it worse is that deep down, I know what she's saying is true. She has a perfect hourglass figure as opposed to my matchstick-like body.

I've always been a skinny girl – too skinny for most. My friends used to joke around about how Jake Overton –the star quarterback at our high school – had a pair of boobs that was way bigger than mine; and yeah, he's a boy. In my defense, he was definitely on steroids. Lots of it. The point is, I never really give much thought about the shape of my body.

Until now.

Hayley stops right in front of me and leans forward to whisper in my ears, "And, I can take him places you can never do."

I gasp loudly. He told her about it? It was supposed to be our secret!

Even after six months of dating, all Peter and I have ever done is make out. Back when we first started dating, we made a promise to each other to save ourselves. I thought we both wanted the same thing, but apparently, I was dead wrong.

Despite the fact that what Hayley's saying is true, right now all I want more than anything in this world is to slap her rosy cheeks and yank that long, curly hair of hers with such strength to the point that she's left with a bald head. Probably even scratch that small face of hers and punch her pouty purple lips until she can no longer say a word.

But, being the more responsible person, I decide to restrain myself and contain my anger, even though it means my head now hurts so much I feel like it's going to explode soon.

I take a deep breath and turn my gaze at Peter. "Tell me that's not true."

But his silence answers my question. Just when I thought things can't get any worse, he stares at me with pity in his eyes. Slowly, I can feel tears building up behind my eyes.

How could they do this to me? My boyfriend and my best friend?

But now everything starts to make sense. The way he glances at her once in a while when we go out together, or how she playfully slaps his arms when they're joking, or even how she always wears clothes two sizes smaller when he's around.

Ugh. I feel so stupid. How did I not see this coming?

All this time I thought he was just being nice when he said he was going to drop her off at her home, or helped her with some school assignments. But, again, I was dead wrong.

Dylan was right. Why do I always think the best of people?

I purse my lips together while trying my best to act strong. It takes every ounce of strength in me to prevent myself from breaking down at the scene.

"Well, then," I say, taking another deep breath. "If you'll excuse me."

I turn around, intending to run out of the room when I realize a lot of people are watching our little fight from outside the room.

"Did you see what happen?" a boy whispers to his friends.

"She just got dumped," a girl says.

"No wonder he dumped her, she's so skinny she looks like a stick!" another girl says.

"Yeah, look at her clothes. So boring!"

I gulp and lick my lips out of anxiety before I rush out of the room. I run down the stairs while still trying to hold my tears. But halfway through, hot tears begin to fall down my cheeks. Before I know it, the room feels like it's spinning around me and I can't help but feel people are laughing at me.

My tears become unbearable and I drag a hand to cover my mouth while the other tries to wipe the tears off my face. But it's no use. The tears just won't stop.

"Mac?" I can hear Dylan's voice calling for me. "Mac? What happened?"

I ignore him and run out of the party as fast as I can.

At that exact moment, I begin to question all the decisions I've made and the path of life that I chose.

Yes, I've always tried to do the right thing.

Yes, sometimes I can be a bit predictable.

But is it wrong to just want to be the best version of myself?

Is it wrong to just be... me?

Finally, I ask myself, is being good really that bad?

Author's Note:

Hey, guys! So there's the first chapter of How to Be a Bad Girl!

What do you think?

In the next chapter, I'll take you through the mind of Sophia and I promise it will be a fun ride xD

Be sure to look out for it!

As always, don't forget to vote and comment if you like the story. I always enjoy reading each and every one of your comments so I'll be waiting for them! :)

Until next time!