Playing The Bad Boy's Game

"So, who sits here?"I whispered, noticing the other empty seat beside me.
Blondie glanced to the clock. "Him," he said just as the time clicked 10. The door opened and I looked up.
My pencil dropped to the ground, eyes wide.
Oh. My. God.
It's him.
The first drug dealer that began my parents addiction.
The player that stole my best friends virginity.
The wicked monster that sent my cousin to rehab.
The hottest guy I've ever seen.
The reason why my life is hell.
And he's coming to be my English partner.

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26. Chapter 22: der.two.sides.of.life.

 You know what every author craves for?  Writing adrenaline.  When you’re down the fast line, shooting letters along the keyboard, your fingers flying over words, and then BAM!  You got one son of a gun chapter.  Slick, smooth and clean, you kick up your feet, and sigh at such tight, firm, work.

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……….Question.  If quiz is a quizzical… then what’s a test?.....

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Chapter 22: der.two.sides.of.life.

            Rivyn’s P.O.V. (cause I said so xD and she’s the main character)

            Darkness.  Cards.  Ace. 

            Laughs swirl around; Charlotte’s familiar snicker haunts my mind.  I curl deeply into a ball, rocking between a corner by myself.  More laughter and I’m frightened, alone in the room.  I begin to sob, clogging my throat from all the dread.     

            Then a warm hand slinks up my back, and I peek to see a smile. 

            “Brian?” I croak, beautiful eyes staring into mine. 

            “I love you,” he whispers, tilting my chin.  Tears fall down his cheek, and I watch as they slowly disappear as well does his body. 

            His lips quiver, and I try to reach his shaking hands, but all I get is air.  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, dissolving with the darkness. 

            I cry out his name, pain swelling in the heart.  “Don’t go,” is all I muster before I know I can’t take it.  I fight my chest from closing in, and realize I’m weeping over the boy who broke my heart. 

            “He’s not good enough for you,” says a voice, and I glance to see Noah genuinely staring.  “You’re the same type of person as him.  You should have never been together.” 

            Rage thrusts itself forward, and I try to hit the ghost, but again, all I get is air.  Shutting my eyes, I pray everything will go away, tucking myself in my arms.  I’m alone again in the room, the darkness my only companion.    

            “Megan…”

            “Go away,” I scream, wanting to break free.

            “Megan…please…”

            I suddenly feel weak, and give up, facing defeat.  I let his strong hands stand me up, my legs still flimsy and weak.  Comfort comes from his touch, and I snuggle my head beneath his chin. 

            “You’re safe now,” Damon repeats embracing me tight. 

            For some reason, I feel protected, carefree in his arms.  It feels wonderful.

            My eyes peeled open, sunshine swallowing past my vision.  Waking to the morning light, confusion peeked through, and I wondered if that was either a dream or a nightmare. 

            “Rivyn, it’s time to get up,” whispered Damon, his voice soft and genial.  I find myself cradled under his grasp.  Did I….sleep with him? 

            Slightly stiff, I obeyed, and got up, following the others out the old train.  “Where are we going?” I asked, the six of us trudging through the forest.  It looks stunning as the thick branches hold the large banks of snow, birds flying above our heads as if they were dancing.  It was a magical; a winter wonderland. 

            My combat boots sunk deeply into the white puffs, our direction following along a path.  “To get some food,” answered Crack, leading the way. 

            I stuck my hands in my army jacket, and eventually something hit me.  I was never wearing an army jacket.  I looked to see Damon ahead, wearing just a grey hoodie, admiring the scenery like I was just a moment ago.

            My smile brightened, and I suddenly felt all mushy.  The jacket smelled exactly like him, the forest scent soothing.  “Hey!” I called out, running beside him.  “You should have this back, it’s still winter you know.” 

            He grinned seeing me approach, and shook his head.  “No, you need it.  That coat you had on earlier was pretty thin.”

            Fighting the heat that rose to my cheeks, I took it off anyways, and draped it over his shoulders.  “The storm is over now, and at least I have a coat.” 

            Damon beamed, and nods, slipping his hands through the sleeves.  I shivered as a small breeze went down my back, and I felt a hand slink around my waist.  Turning to the side, my stomach felt uneasy, but it was a good uneasy.  Exciting actually. 

            I put one hand in my pocket anyways, and realized my phone was gone.  Great.  “What’s wrong?” he asked, worry spread along his face.

            “Nothing,” I said, waving the discomfort off.  He nodded, and gently kissed my head.  My cheeks flustered, and I bit back a growing smile.

            The two of us walked forward, and a thought drifted over my head, the insight abruptly big.  How did Damon find me in America?  Unless….he followed me to another country?  Or was there another reason…  The idea made butterflies twirl, and I leaned closer, pushing any bad beliefs away.    

            I wanted to enjoy this bliss while I could since it seems that lately, a lot of things were crushing everything.      

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            BRIAN’S P.O.V.

            Kill.  Me. 

            Charlotte’s been yapping nonstop for the past three hours, talking about her life after we broke up.  Honestly, I think I’d rather have someone knock me back into a coma instead of hearing her. 

            Hell, this was WAY worse than helping those old ladies cross that busy street during rush hour a few weeks ago.

            “…and I was like, ew gross!  And he was like, grinning and shit.  And I was like, ‘Excuse asshole, but my mom told me not to put small things in my mouth’…”

            Sighing, I stared out the window in awe, this hospital room giving a good view of the city.  I was on the top floor so all the buildings were at eye-level, the Canadian flag wiping to the side.  I slept through the storm during my coma, and its excess beauty was magical, like a winter wonderland. 

            The pain of beauty struck, and I suddenly felt like bolting out of this hospital to find Rivyn.  Of course, that would be impossible since I’ve already tried five times, and my hands were now strapped to the bed.  No joke. 

            “Brian!  Are you even listening to me?” pouted Charlotte, her lips not as cute as Rivyn’s. 

            I sighed, and gathered the best smile I could make.  “Yes, I am.  Your life sounds wonderful—”

            “Wonderful?!” she shouted, and I wished I could turn off my ears.  “It sucked!  Sure, I dated many smoking guys but NONE,” her eyes laid on mine, and she leaned in, “were compared to you, Mr. Daniels.”

            Gun.  Head.  Now.   

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            RIVYN’S P.O.V.

            “So do you guy…um…steal?” I asked, the five of them guiding me into town.  Baked goods whisked their gifted scents into the air, and I’m drooling, my stomach growling every two minutes. 

            Breaking the law was the last thing I wanted to do.  Especially, after putting Brian in the hospital, and Irene’s super protective radar, I’ve noticed she’s been keeping a lot of tabs when I used to be with Brian.  Now that we’re done, she’s probably going to write a novel about what happened. 

            Brian.  I shivered to his name, and moved closer to Damon. 

            Jack chuckled, and led us through an alley.  “No, well, most of the time we don’t.  You see Megan—”

            “My name’s not Megan,” I interrupted, wanting to set things straight. 

            “Well…what do you want us to call you?” asked Damon.  His voice made me soften, and I was ready to say that only Damon can call me that, but logic seemed to fight back. 

            Trust was something that hovered over my head since I broke up with Brian, and now, I don’t plan on trusting anyone.  Including Damon.  Maybe even myself… 

            “Megan,” I sighed, “you may continue to call me Megan.”   

            The brothers shrugged except Damon who nodded, understanding my reasoning.

            “Well, Megan,” continued Jack, stopping by a sign.  “We have friends around all parts, even in different countries, and let’s just say many owe favours.”

            I was slightly confused until the sign caused a click of realization.  This was the butchers shop, were I used to get the meat everyday back home.  But this was back home. 

            The usual old woman wheeled her cart past us, her wind chimes knocking in the breeze.  I remembered buying some of those for my parents’ anniversary.  Parents.  Butcher’s.  Wheeled cart. 

            Energy exploded, and I had the urge to find where I was.  I ran from Damon, going through the same way we came.  I didn’t stop once I reached the road, and recognized the street names, and downtown smell.  Men smoked by the library staircase, most checking out the business ladies walking by.  Newspapers rolled through the avenue, bottles of empty beer were smashed along the sidewalk.

            A street name caught my attention and I took the turn, running up cracked stairs that led to an old house.  Cars honked from the busy intersection behind, and the door was chained up, the lock ancient and rusty.  With one hard kick, I broke the loose chain down, and entered the house. 

            Stepping in, I’m hit by flooding memories, and a virus digs itself into my heart, weakening my legs.  Large white sheets draped over the furniture, dust clouding on everything.  I tried to click the switch, but nothing came on.  Looking up, all the light bulbs were popped, most of the glass shattered along the carpet. 

            I walked up the stairs, the pictures that I personally hung up before now gone.  Hands tracing up the railing, I hiked into my room, the bed still unmade and covers sprawled everywhere.  It was as if I never left.  The only thing different was the stack of boxes by my closet, my old belongings I left behind still in there.

            Creeping back downstairs, I didn’t dare to see my parents or sisters room, too scared to go in.  All I peeked from their doors were shattered glass, and continuous drafts of air from outside.  As my feet hit the last step, I noticed a paper sticking to the fridge. 

            Frightened and curious at the same time, I ripped off the sheet, and my eyes began to water. 

            DeLor House 489 is now in the possession of the government.  Immediate evacuation was made.  Owners charged for Bankrupt, Drug Abuse, and Cause of Destructive Property.

            My cold hands dropped the paper to the floor, and I heard footsteps behind.  Turning, I saw Damon wearing a frown, staring at me with concern. 

            I ran up and hugged him, tears starting to leak down my cheeks.  He caressed my hair, holding me close with his warm touch.    

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                “This is so good!” I moaned, chewing on the steak.  All of us sat in the back of the butcher’s, using boxes as tables.  Mike, the owner of the butcher shop was helping out customers at the front, giving regular checks on us in the back. 

            “Tell me ‘bout it,” said Knack, licking his plate clean.  If he wasn’t homeless, and we haven’t eaten at all last night, I would have been grossed out.

            But hey, we were, so I licked my plate clean as well.  Damon shot a funny face as my tongue stuck to the plate.  We both laughed, a snug bond starting to form.

            I wondered if we could ever be together.  He’s probably in his early college years, and I’m graduating high school this year.  Well, that is if I even graduate.  There were so many days I’ve missed, and when Aunt Darby finds out, she’ll kill me.  Actually, she’ll probably have a mental break down when I randomly show up by her doorstep at home.  And Mrs. Daniels will most likely drill me with questions on why I put her son in a hospital.  Ugh, my American life. 

            The thought of going back made me sad, and an idea popped up.  Maybe I could live with Damon and his brothers!  Run away from all the drama that waits, and to live a fantasy. 

            Just as my mind began to drown with ideas, the t.v. in the corner turned on, and we all jumped. 

            “Sorry,” mumbled Mac, and took the remote from under his seat.  “My butt seemed to click a button.”

            “…..lady knocks out her boyfriend, and then runs away with him,” said the reporter on the television, the screen only big as our small table.

            Crack whistled, “Women.  So feisty.”

            “The boyfriend, son of millionaire Mrs. Daniels, was found in the hospital, just recovering over a coma.  He was first found by the park downtown, laying cold during the snow storm….”

            Terror crawled up, and my mouth dropped.  Icy shivers of fright sunk in my stomach, the feeling nerve-wracking.  I was there.  If I hadn’t ran away like a coward, I could have saved him.  I pictured Brian in the hospital again, sleeping beneath those blue covers, and memories of his confession and lies came back.  I suddenly felt like crying again, the pain he’s caused me aching once again. 

            “….They say he was knocked out by a masked attacker, who was defined with this description.  Tall man, wearing an army jacket and thick black laced boots.  If you’ve seen this man, please report to the police….”

            My eyes trailed to Damon, tracing his army jacket, and thick black laced boots.  No.  It can’t be.  But….how?  Anger bubbled up my throat, and I found Damon’s jealousy disgusting.  His eyes didn’t connect with mine, too busy glued to the television.  About to break into a shout, the reporter said something that caught my attention.     

            “….The lady was a guest, living under the roof of the Daniels, and she’s still missing.  Police have contacted her family, and many want her back.”

            Klaire and Aunt Darby appeared, the two looking terribly unwell.  Klaire was leaning on Darby’s shoulder, sobbing while her hair stuck along her damp cheeks.  “Please come back, Rivyn,” pleaded my aunt, her eyes starting to get watery. 

            “Rivyn DeLor has been seen downtown, and police are searching through day and night for this girl.”  A picture of me emerges, the photo taken not long ago.  My hairs flying in the wind, and I’m laughing, eating a home-made sundae that Klaire and I made on the porch.  We both looked so carefree there, the two of us seeming so relaxed and untroubled. 

            And look at us now.  A complete mess, distances apart.  I can’t stay.  I’m hurting more people than I intended too.  She didn’t deserve this.  Aunt Darby didn’t deserve this.  It would be selfish to live with Damon. 

            I had to fix this.  Getting up, all the four brothers gaped at me, making numerous stares at my picture, then back to me.  “Yes, it’s me,” I stated, rolling my eyes. 

            Suddenly, I sensed familiar hands sitting on my waist and I turned to see Damon gazing down, straight into my cold eyes.  “And you,” I said, poking his chest, “have no right to—”

            He shoved a dirty cloth in my mouth, and I gagged, trying to cough it up.  Stumbling back, he catches me and ties my wrists.  I attempted to fight back, but then everything turned blurry, my whole world tipping.

            I tried to scream but the last thing I see are Damon’s sorry eyes, looking regretful. 

            Darkness swallows me whole, and I feel no pain when I collapse. 

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            I wake up startled in the back of a car.  Taxi maybe?  Perhaps a police car?  What’s going on?  I try to open the door but my hands are cuffed.  I squirm and quickly let out a wince as the hard metal squeezes.  Yup, definite handcuffs.

            You know, whoever made these things are pretty smart.  The more the victim moves, the more agonizing it is.  Hm, maybe I should get myself a pair of these babies.

            Looking out the window, I scowled and banged my head against the glass, the screen tinted.  I looked to see the driver seats, but a large wall divided the two front and back seats.  What?  Did they think all the killers and murders were so ugly that they didn’t want to see their faces? 

            Worry crept over, and I realized I was being kidnapped.  Er, sort of.  I am in a police car, well I think I am, but who’s driving?  Where am I going? Where are Damon and his brothers?  Did someone catch them drugging me?

            Damon.  That son of a bitch actually drugged me!

            Suddenly, the car started to move and I heard someone hop in the driver’s seat.  “Hello?” I asked, waiting for a response.  All I got was silence, and the sound of the car engine. 

            Later on, from the incredible amount of quietness, I realized we were on the highway.  “Excuse me, where are we going?”

            Silence again.

            Well then.  I see how it is.

            I huffed out an annoyed sigh, and slouched in the seat.

            I could really go for a game of charades right now.

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            BRIAN’S P.O.V.

            I was finally being sent home.

            I sat in the back of the police car, two bodyguards beside me keeping a good poker face.  So far, I’ve tried to run away twice once I got in this vehicle but so far I’ve made no progress.  I’m aching for Rivyn, and I think it’s starting to affect my mind.

            Looking between me, the bodyguards stare ahead, and I swear the two are having a secret no-blinking contest, which made me pout to think I wasn’t invited.  Can’t you see I’m bored to death here?

            Once we crossed the border, I sighed, watching the American flag wave in the wind.  “Hey, kid,” asked the guy in the front, “you want a get a pee break?”

            Pee break?  What does he think I am?  Twelve? 

            I nodded anyways, and like how I got in, the two bodyguards crowded over me, following me out the car.  I felt awkward as tourists gave weird looks, like a guy walking to the bathroom with two other men wasn’t normal. 

            Which was completely the opposite of normal.

            I realized we were at America’s Duty Free shop, and I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh when thinking of the word, ‘duty’.

            All three of us went into the washroom, and about to take the big stall, one of the men came in with me. 

            Okay.  He just crossed the line. 

            “Dude, are you serious?” I asked, blinking twice. 

            He didn’t give an answer, continuing to stay put.  I was tempted to poke him, just to see if he was a robot but I held myself back. 

            “Out,” I ordered, pointing to the stall door.  His feet stood planted to the ground, not moving an inch.  “Look, if I was taking a piss, I’d let you stay.  For a matter of fact, I’d actually be by those urinals over there.  But hey, I’m about to take some serious duty, so if I were you, I’d leave.”

            The man grumbles something, and walks out of the stall.  “Don’t take long, boy!” shouted the other body guard. 

            I locked the door, and sighed.  “Hello?  Didn’t you read the store sign?  Duty Free!  I can take as looooong as I want,” I sang, and I heard one of the men pound the stall door.

            “Calm your shit, bro,” I laughed, liking my little pun.  The two bodyguards grumbled again, and I snickered. 

            Scanning the stall, I realized there were no vents above or anywhere actually.  Dammit.  Looks like I was going to have to operate Plan Z.  I went flat on my stomach, the floor wreaking as my nose hovers over. 

            Holding my breath, I quietly crawled under each stall until the exit door was visible.  Standing up, I was about to grab the handle until one of the bodyguards started to bang on the door again. 

            “Hurry up!” he growled, “how long does it take to do your little duty?”

            I almost bursted out laughing from his cranky deep voice, biting my sleeve from exploding.  Aw man, that word never gets old. 

            I swiftly scooted out the door, and in seconds, I sprinted from Duty Free, past the police car, into Canada, and as far as I could get.  Pure glee rained down, and I even thought about going back and mooning those bodyguards. 

            Running away from the borderline, I ignored the screams from the officers, and continued to sprint.  A couple was chatting outside of their car just ahead, and an idea sprang .  I pushed the two lovers away, and threw myself into their car. 

            The vehicle was an automatic which made me shout a cowboy hoot, meaning I didn’t need a key, so I geared this baby up.  Slamming the door shut, the couple banged on the window but I ignored their rude curses.  Spinning out, I drove off, creating a far distance between the police officers and I. 

            I’m a free nude ass, mother fucka!  Ah-la-loo-ya!   

            Cruising for a few minutes, my excitement died down once I reached the highway.  Suddenly, I realized how stupid this was. 

            How the hell could I find Rivyn in a whole fucking country?

            I gave myself a face-palm, and looked up to see sirens blare.  Peeking out the window, a police car was ahead, coming straight for me.  What the hell?  How did they catch up so fast? 

            Instantly, I pulled over and ended my little runaway.  “Screw this,” I sobbed quietly to myself, getting out of the car.  “Rivyn’s probably on the other side of the god damn country by now.”

            The police man parked by my car, and got out, his thick black lacey boots clonking along the pavement. 

            “I know the routine, sir, so there’s no point in talking,” I said, and turned around.  I felt the rough handcuffs around my wrists, and cringed, remembering when I used to continuously get arrested.  Except this time, it was my choice.

            The police officer grabbed my head, and opened the door, throwing me in.  “Thanks for the gentle toss, buddy,” I shouted as he slammed the door in my face. 

            “Jackass,” I grumbled, my hands straddled to my back.  Damn, I should have asked him to cuff my wrists in front of me.  Ugh.  I’m such an idiot.

            Suddenly, I had the sense that I wasn’t alone.  Turning to the side, my reaction was reflected, sexy brown eyes staring into mine. 

            “Holy shit.”

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It. Was. Da. Bomb.

Yeah, that’s right.

I’m awesome. 

Uh huh.  Oh yeah.  I’m awesome. 

Cause I’m that awesome. Mh hm. 

Yeah.  I’m work’n it.  *shakes ass*

*does the flop (asdf movie inside joke)*

Dude, you’ve just witnessed the best and first Wattpad Author Note butt shake.

That’s right.  Swag.

xD

Goal:

 80,000 before Chapter 28

5 comments this chapter (if I even have that many readers xD jk jk.  Love you all long time ;c you know it!!!!! <3)

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