Discretion is the better part of valor.

You don't know what Brad will want from you in exchange for his protection, but you can't imagine it will be anything you want an audience for. You will be giving up any safety of being in public, but you doubt he would hesitate to do his worst even with the whole world watching. No one ever punishes the Prom King, and you'd rather end up his private jester and enjoy his protection than to end up on the chopping block.

Brad always skips first period, and second, and third. You aren't sure if he actually attends anything but practice and lunch. You plan to find him at his house, just a few blocks from yours, and hopefully alone. You sneak a few beers from the fridge as peace offerings, deciding it will be worth getting grounded if you can get King Shit in your corner. You scurry over to his house and are fortunate enough to avoid the neighborhood peepers. You guess you got lucky and they are busy trying to spy on their mothers in the shower.

Brad's house is twice the size of yours and his cherry red convertible is parked out front with his KNG BRAD license plate advertising to God and everyone who owns the block. You despise his arrogance, but you can't exactly say it's unearned since you are about to beg for his protection. Every step feels heavier than the last as you make your way to his front door. The closer you get, the more you are convinced this is the worst idea you've ever had, but you can't think of any better ideas. Finally you reach his door and make a tiny, tentative knock.

The door opens after what feels like an eternity and Brad stands in all his glory in a half open robe, looking like someone tried to cover up a statue of a Greek god in Terry cloth. His carefree smile shifts into a superior smirk and his piercing blue eyes lock you in place. "Heeeey! It's the little beta bitch!" He sounds almost friendly, clearly surprised to see you and curious where you found the stones to seek him out. "What brings you to my humble hovel?" Brad always loved a self deprecating humble brag.

You stammer and squirm like a worm on a hook before managing to mumble, "Well...uhm...I was, you know, maybe just uhm wondering if...if it isn't too much trouble that is...you might be willing to watch my back," Brad's eyebrow raises and you see you have piqued his curiosity. "I mean, you are the toughest, most popular guy in school. Everyone loves you. And it's obvious no one in the neighborhood would fuck with you...or anyone you told them to stay away from." He follows intently, definitely not immune to flattery, especially from someone that has every reason to despise him. "I'd be willing to pay you back, of course. I'd do anything you asked. No matter how embarrassing."

You wait with baited breath as Brad considers your proposal. You hope he is flattered enough to take the offer, even though he could easily do anything he wanted to you without your permission. That ultimate surrender, your acceptance and open acknowledgement of him as your superior, that's the real currency you're hoping to cash in. Brad's smirk spreads into a shit eating grin, "Come on in, ****, you convinced me to extend my benevolence to a lowly loser like you."

You follow Brad into his palatial estate, and not for the first time, wish he fell into the comfortable stereotype of a dumb jock. Truth is, he was easily as smart as you, if not smarter, and you could tell that his gears were turning with the best way to commemorate your new role as ****. He turns quickly and you almost jump out of your skin. His eyes cut into you like daggers as he calmly commands,