Harper

FRECKLES

Harper's pov:

A petite boy suddenly appeared, his eyes widening at the distressing scene before him. He wasn't the typical popular type; oversized glasses and freckles adorned his face, giving him a cheeky, unassuming look.

"Stop," he muttered, and the tormentors burst into deep laughter. Seizing the moment, I slipped from their grip and sprinted for the door, making sure to bring the freckled boy with me.

As we bolted from the building, he halted to catch his breath. "Are you okay?" he asked between breaths, genuine concern etched on his face. Collapsing to the ground, the weight of the near-traumatic experience hit me. "I was almost raped," I realised, struggling to breathe.

"Hey, let's get out of here," he suggested, revealing his pearly whites. Somehow, looking at him made me feel safe, as if no harm could befall me – cheeky, right?

I recalled feeling the same way about Dylan.

Grabbing his shirt, I hugged him tightly; he exuded a comforting blend of vanilla and chocolate, calming my racing heart. I wanted to cry, to scream, to finally be heard.

Carrying me in his arms, he gently raced towards his his car, refusing to let go of his shirt. I was astonished; muscles seemed to appear out of nowhere, as if he were a superhero.

He opened the car door and settled me down, fastening my seat belt. "Thanks," I whispered under my breath, eliciting another warm smile. He was genuinely sweet.

We found ourselves on the road, heading to an unknown destination. Despite not knowing the guy and the potential danger, I desperately needed this escape.

"Thank you for helping me," I said, attempting to break the awkward silence. It was embarrassing to be seen in such a vulnerable state.

"Why did they do that to you?" he asked, his voice genuinely caring. I sighed, unable to fathom the sudden attack.

"I have no idea," I replied, offering a brief smile. I've endured worse.

"Where are we going?" I inquired, attempting to change the topic. "To my house," he replied curtly. I sighed, realising he might not want to talk.

Peering out the window, I noticed a sprawling mansion. My jaw dropped; I should have guessed he was rich, judging by his car.

He led me inside, and the interior resembled heaven with white sofas, tables, and a magnificent chandelier casting different lights.

"Come on, let's get you changed," he said, guiding me somewhere. His room matched the opulence of the house – a king-sized bed near the door and a whole game room inside.

"I never want to leave," I murmured, touching everything in the room. He brought out new clothes for me, graciously considering my torn attire.

Grateful, I changed into his green shirt and ash joggers. We settled on the bed, maintaining a reasonable distance. "Where are your parents?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"On a trip," he answered, and silence enveloped us again. Socially awkward, I struggled to continue the conversation.

Turning to face him, I noticed his cute features – green almond eyes and jet-black hair. He seemed... 'gay.'

"You're gay," I blurted, attempting a sheepish smile. He looked shocked but composed himself. "Who told you?" he asked, jumping off the bed.

"No one, I just assumed," I stammered, making it worse. "I'll drive you back to school," he said, walking out. Desperate not to return to that place, I apologised repeatedly, eventually hugging him tightly.

Embarrassing, yet acceptable since he was gay.

"I'm sorry," I whispered again. "It's fine. Wait, what's your name?" he asked, surprised. We laughed, using the opportunity to exit the car before he escaped.

"I'm Xavier," he said, guiding me back to the house. "I'm Riley," I said, smiling at him.

We settled on the bed, watching a movie called River dale. It was all fun until 'king'' called him.

"Hey, boss," he said, leaving the room. 

Boss?...