~JORDAN PATRICK~ Not a man of ice but a creation of flames; he is bound to only destruction as his form of expression. Aiming his fists and using his tongue as a weapon is the only way of life Jordan knows. Day in and day out anger swarms within him...
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'I am trapped in my own skin with no way out. I have a bodyguard now. Maybe he can save me' - Perfection
~
I don't think Caden likes Brayton. And don't think Brayton likes Caden.
Brayton is the person or 'bodyguard' as I call him, that Jackson was talking to me about earlier today. I don't know why but I was half expecting Brayton to be this stuck up, snobby type of man who would try shoving food down my throat every ten seconds.
But really he seems quite nice. Maybe I think that though because when I smiled at him he smiled straight back.
In front of me is my lunch tray. Pasta Carbonara. I remember having this a few times as younger teen when my mum was going through her Italian cooking phase. It tasted good. Too good. And that's what makes it so dangerous.
My fork has been stabbing at the pieces of Penne pasta for a god fifteen minutes and I think there is only twenty minutes of lunch time left. The more I murder the food, the more I murder the thoughts of wanting to eat it.
The urge is growing stronger, the hunger harder to tame. I'm just afraid that one of these days I'm going to give in to my dark desires.
"You're being weird," says Caden eyeing me carefully. His own lunch tray half empty. He of course went with the unhealthy option, double cheeseburger and fries.
"Says the guy who doesn't eat gherkins," chides Brayton quickly coming to my defence. I hide a smile as Caden's cheeks flush a little pink.
"They are disgusting," Caden insists making a point of shoving the green pieces of death further off of his plate.
Brayton scoffs, "of course you'd think they are disgusting. Rich boys," Brayton rolls his eyes.
"Hey, be nice, both of you," I raise a brow pointing my fork between the pair of them.
Considering Brayton is like in his twenties he sure does bicker with Caden like he is fourteen. But then again Caden almost appears exasperated that Brayton is sat next to me.
"I am not a rich boy," Caden mumbles shoving a handful of fries in his mouth. That does nothing to help with my appetite. He is wearing a white polo shirt I think made out of cotton with a ribbed collar and it does wonders emphasising each of his muscles. On his wrist is that silver Rolex watch and Caden notices me staring.
"See something you like Sunshine?" He smirks and I find myself blushing at the teasing glint in his Cerulean blue eyes.
"I see a rich boy," I can't help but say and me and Brayton share a laugh as Caden tips his head back groaning. Compared to what Brayton is wearing which is just a sports shirt and nike shorts that suits well with his dark skin, Caden definitely looks rich.
He whines, "you're supposed to be on my side."
I shrug, "I'm impartial."
"And not eating," Brayton points towards my still very full plate. My dark-ish mood comes back and I stare pitifully at the plate of pasta that now probably has gone cold.
