ḾṎᕍ⁅ᖇṈ ℄Ṏv⁅ | The Lost Boys

ᏨᏲᾀᑬt⁅ᖇ t⁅Ṉ

I thought I'd head back to the house after a brisk ride through the block, but after I completed a lap, I was still filled with unadulterated rage and my feet had a mind of their own.

Anger led me to the boardwalk. It was a good fifteen-mile ride, but I didn't care. The burn in my lungs made me feel alive. It cut through my frustration and made me push to feel more.

My all-but threw the bike to the side when I arrived, not caring that someone could steal it. The moment I peddled into the parking lot, my gaze landed on four familiar dirt bikes, and I saw red.

It was as if I had a tracking beacon inside of me because I knew exactly where to find David's gang. I spotted them afar, blending in with the chaotic freak show around them.

I'm storming towards them before I can think it through. All you know is that I'm beyond outraged, at Michael, at them.

Paul is the first one to notice me. He greets me with a cocky grin, "Hey baby—"

My fist is flying on its own accord. I punch Paul clear across the face. It wasn't hard—odds are, he's taken harder before—but the surprise of it knocks him back into Dwayne. I only realize what I've done when the pain spreads through my fingers.

"Son of a bitch—" I cradle my hand against my chest, biting back a scream. I wished someone would've warned me. Punching hurt like hell.

"What is it with you Emerson's, and punching without provocation?" remarks David.

I glare, filling it with as much hate as I can muster. David isn't affected in the least. Amusement danced in his eyes like he's watching a puppy snarl at him.

"Let me see your hand. You hurt it pretty bad." David reaches out, but I jerk away.

"Don't touch me, Prick,"

The boys oooh. Marko throws his arm over my shoulder, nuzzling my hair. "Kitten's got some teeth, huh?"

I attempt to shrug him off, but he hangs on. "Stay away from Michael." They say his name throughout the group like it's some kind of private joke. I set my jaw. "He's a good guy, and he doesn't deserve to be dragged down by a group of dirty degenerates like you."

David bends at the waist, coming down to my eye level. "Did big brother send you here?"

I stand a little taller, clenching and unclenching my injured fist. "No, I came myself."

"So you can go down on dirty degenerates like us?"

I don't miss the way he twisted my words. I sneer, tongue loosened by white-hot rage.

"To get you to fuck off, dipshit." I spit the words out as if they were acid.

Maybe I was suicidal. The looks my words garnered from outside parties could only be described as horror. Was it uncommon for someone to put these assholes in their place?

"Oh, shit." Marko bounces up and down excitedly.

"Such a filthy mouth." David tuts, circling me. "Good girls aren't supposed to use dirty words like that, are they, Dwayne?"

"No they aren't," Dwayne shakes his head with a smirk.

"Thought so." David eyes me, then straightens. "I think you better apologize to Paul, baby. You hurt him real bad, and, well, he can get a bit pouty."

I glance at Paul, who is indeed pouting theatrically. He leans in, batting his eyelashes. "Can you kiss it better?"

"Look—" I throw my hands in the air, exasperated, "just leave Michael alone. He hasn't been acting like himself, and I know you're the cause. Just leave him alone. Okay?"

David's lips quirk upwards. "Okay."

A pause. I blink once. Twice. I wait for the punchline, but it never comes. "Really?"

"Anything for you, princess." David shares a look with his gang. "But you've gotta take his place."

"I beg your pardon?"

David doesn't repeat himself. He gives me a look similar to the one he gave me almost a week ago. Blue eyes peered into my soul, effectively freezing me. Paul leaned against my other shoulder.

"C'mon," he purrs, "join us."

And then, a steady chant started up. "Join us. Join us. Join us."

David only stares, hypnotic blue eyes locked on my shining emerald eyes, as Marko, Paul, and Dwayne's chant grew louder. People were starting to stare.

"You know you want to," he stated. "Don't lie to yourself, Rowan."

Marko giggled, "We promise we'll be good."

Dwayne, who I hadn't seen move, whispered to my opposite ear. "Extra good."

"Don't leave us hanging, baby," whined Paul.

My rage evaporated by the second, replaced with a warm and fuzzy feeling in my abdomen. They filled my senses with their scent, overwhelming me to the point that it was difficult to think.

They're petting me—my arms, my hands, even my neck. David seemed content watching. Someone's hands migrated to my hair, playing with the ends—cool breath fans over my neck, combating the sticky heat of the Santa Carla night.

"I..."

David cocks his head. And there it is, his inviting hand. Open. Ready. Accepting. My fingers twitched, and, ever so slowly, I found myself reaching out and putting my hand in his.

The boys erupted into cheers, and an explosion of euphoria bursts in my core like a firework. Dwayne wrapped his arms around my middle and spun me around, eliciting a surprised shriek.

"C'mon, boys." David tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. "Let's get out of here."