if he was mine

Always my fault

L U I S

"Don't wear that perfume again, it makes you smell like a prostitute." I wink at my best friend's little sister, slamming the bathroom door shut behind me. I chuckle to myself, I'd known Ria pretty much my whole life and she never failed to either amuse me, or somehow piss me off. The pissing me off part came with me just trying to look out for her. Having two younger siblings of my own, I was known to be just a little overbearing. Well I personally would call it being overprotective, but sometimes It doesn't show the way I mean it. That sure does happen a lot. The person most people perceive me to be on the outside, is hell of a lot different than who I actually am.                                                               
"Yo, hurry up!" Miguel's voice burst through my thoughts.
"Just let me take a piss!" I yell back.

"Mm, baby don't go." My girlfriend pouts as I lift her and plant her onto the ground next to my car. I wince when her hand brushes past the bruise on my forehead, the one from the fight a couple days ago. Of course she didn't notice.
But our relationship was just like that. We're on and off more times I would like to admit, but it's low maintenance. Yeah, we don't know each other on a deeper level and I know it's not going to progress much further, but it gives me something to do, it's something to take the edge of life when shit gets rough. Maybe she could notice me more though, shit even my best friend's baby sister can see I've got fucking bruise on my face, let alone the countless black eyes I always show up with.                        
"I know Char," I soothe, "But you know that fucker Williams said he would talk to my parents if I was late one more time."        
"Fine." She grumbles, "But hey, you can pay for my new nails I'm getting later today. They're bl-"
"Yeah, of course baby." I mumble distractedly, slamming the car door shut as the sound of laughter catches my attention. One look at those pricks and my sisters face, streaked with fresh tears, I knew what was about to go down. Oh no you fucking won't. I storm down the path, fists clenched and my jaw set in a hard line. "Haven't learnt your lesson yet?" The guys smirk falters.
"We were just messing around." He says, trying to sound casual but his voice betrayed him. The fucker was nervous.
"Messing around?" I echo, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "First your sister, now you? You really think your tough?" His friends were silent now, looking anywhere but me. I could feel the anger coursing through me, making my vision blur. Without thinking, I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall. I turn to my sister, my hard gaze softening.          
"Isabella go to class. I'll come find you later." The minute she left, I begin something I've done way too many times before. "If you ever," I snarl, my face inches from his, "and I mean ever, lay a finger on my sister again, you'll regret it. Understand?" When I think it's about time to release the prick, he dares to take a swing at my face. Oh, he's finished. I steady my hand and let my fist fly forward to connect with his jaw, the crunch satisfying my anger. Looking back towards where we were minutes before, my eyes search for my girlfriend.
Of course she'd already left.

"Late again Mr Perez?" Mr Williams remarks, in the most condescending tone. Having no energy to respond, I grunt whilst collapsing into my seat. The guy has the nerve to walk over to me,         
"Looks like I'll have to make a phone call to your parents. It's a real shame, you know. If only you could stop being lazy and make an effort like the other students in this class. It's your future at stake here." Knowing that talking back would only get me sent out, I restrain myself and stare at my hands instead, cracking my knuckles loudly to show him I couldn't give less of a fuck. If this is what I got for defending my sister in this shithole of a school, then so be it. The one day I actually tried to be here on time, and I get punished for it. As he turns to walk back to the front, Miguel kicks the back of my chair to get my attention. He signals to the fresh cut sporting my cheek, asking me what happened, yet knowing he wouldn't get his answer. I brush it off, spinning back around to somehow manage through the rest of maths. Yes, my stupid 16 year old self listened to my Latina parents and decided to pick further maths as one of my A-levels.