Bull-shit, I Don't Do Love

Chapter 1 - In which... Well. Shit.

The first time I met Xavier I knew he was an ass.

It was the first day of senior year at Glacier High School. I was late. Already. So there I was, cruising into the parking lot in my not so black, not so vintage, 1998 Volkswagen Beetle at 20 over the speed limit. I practically slid into the last empty parking spot in the farthest lot from the school, barely missing the bumper of the beat-up truck next to me. It was probably the only car in the entire lot that wasn’t from this decade. Even at my incredible speed, I caught a glimpse at all the expensive, 2012 Escalades, Mustangs and BMWs that filled the lot. God, I already didn’t want to be here.

I let out a long sigh as I pulled the parking brake up and shut off the engine. Today was going to suck. I quickly pushed the car door open, grabbed my backpack and headed toward the school. As I entered the first set of doors that led into the school, a bell rang. Great. I was late to first period.

It wasn’t my fault I was late either. If my mom hadn’t gone beserk about the dishes in the sink, I would’ve made it to school on time. God damn it, every damn day.

I was walking quickly through halls, head down, lost in my angry thoughts. Obviously, I should have my head up, to watch where I’m going; to look for the right class. But I’ve never been one to do what I should. Which is why when I turned a corner, I collided with a very solid object and found myself falling, ass first, onto the floor.

“Well. Shit. That’s just fucking great now isn’t it?!” I yelled.

A low chuckle sounded from above me and a dark hand appeared in front of my face. I pushed it away and shoved myself off the floor. I raised my gaze slowly. Black sneakers, dark pants, black tee and a leather jacket. Of course. I ran into the angry, misunderstood murderer kid. Finally, I raised my eyes to Mr. Darkness of Death’s face. And oh my hot damn.

This boy, murderer or not, was hot. He had to be of Mexican descent. His dark skin paired well with the short black hair that lay perfectly in front of his eyes. He had nice lips, for a guy, and those kind of dark brown eyes that you feel yourself falling into every time you look at them. He was tall, too; about 6 foot, give or take. Of course, at 5’7” I didn't even have to raise my head to meet his gaze. An amused, mischievous smirk adorned his face as I sized him up. His eyes, staring slightly down at me, were curious and entertained.

“Awesome. Not even in school ten minutes and already I’ve walked into the class bad-ass. Well, hi. I’m late to class and I don’t give a damn if you drive a Harley or how many girls you’ve banged-up or if everyone thinks you’re a drug dealer. I don’t like motorcycles, I’m not a whore and I don’t do drugs. Now move out of my way.” I was being bitchy and down-right rude, but I didn’t have time to mess around. My mom was already going to kill me for being late.

I’ll give him credit, the boy didn’t even flinch. Instead his smirk only grew larger. He took a step closer. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

I glared at him, “No shit, Sherlock.” With that, I moved to walk past him. He stepped in front of me. I took a step in the opposite direction, he followed. I stomped my foot and screamed in frustration. “What are you? A six year old? Move your ass!”

Another chuckle. “Does swearing make you feel tough? Scared-little-white-girl at a new school gotta pretend she’s tough as nails?” His voice was smooth, seductive even, but I could hear the mocking tone behind it. I don’t like being talked down to.

I shoved at his shoulder, “Get out of my face. I have to get to class.”

He raised an eyebrow. God damn it, I’ve always wanted to be able to do that. “You’re already late. Why not skip? Play hookie with me? We can get to know each other a little better.” He suggested, stepping closer to me. He smelled good. You know, that fresh air, soap, boy kind-of good. I quickly took a step back.

“Seriously? Never in a million years.” I shot back bitterly, “I don’t get to know guys who think they’re all that, when in reality, they’re actually nothing but a washed-up, poor, little dick who isn’t going anywhere.” I didn’t actually know if anything I said was true. Hell, I didn’t know anything about this kid, but it seemed to strike a nerve. He took a menacing step forward.

“Listen, you sorry, ugly bitch. You don’t know anything. Just keep your fucking mouth shut. Get to class, you clumsy little nerd.” With that, he stormed off down the hall behind me. I could hear his angry steps retreating.

What. In. The. Fucking. Hell. Was. That.

I stood there for a minute, trying to process what had just happened. Did I really just get into a fight with a guy I didn’t know? That wasn’t like me at all. Sure I acted like I was a bitch, but that was just because I didn’t want people shooting me down, seeing me as a victim. What the hell was wrong with him?

I shook my head and headed off to the direction I thought my next class was. Sitting around thinking about some random jerk wasn’t going to get me to class. Seriously. Today sucked.

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Thank you to @micky_monroe for making me my fabulous cover and for redoing it several times because I'm ridiculously picky. :)

A thousand times thank you to XxXBlueSummerXxX for editing my poor little story. :)