Bridging The Gap

↣ Sage ↢

    "Careful, you don't wanna fuck up the other one." He taunts, a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips.

As much as I hate to admit it, he's absolutely right. My right hand, as if on cue, picks this exact moment to start throbbing. A throb so strong, and so annoying that I'm sure it's apparent on my face.

    "You good," he says.

    "Yeah." I say simply, knowing that he doesn't truly care. "I've gotta get back to school."

    He glances down at his wrist, a watch that I never noticed lies there. "It's 3:40, Sunshine."

I inwardly groan, cursing myself for being so stupid to actually think it was a good idea to punch Tyler Morgan in the face. Tyler Morgan, for fucks sake! The kid basically reads as a big warning sign saying "Don't fuck with me or I'll kill you." Yet, I'm in his home and he's assigned me a nickname.

    Wonder why he hasn't killed me yet or why he didn't leave me behind at school: bruised hand and disgusting jeans.

He has a heart, you felt it.

"Sunshine." Tyler says, snapping impatient fingers in front of my face, "you there?"

He comes into view, scarred hands burying themselves back to his pockets. "Why are you so bruised?" The question just comes out.

"It's called living in the real world." He doesn't say anything else. Instead, he takes my elbow, dragging me outside behind me and to his truck.

"Are you kicking me out," I ask in astonishment.

"Were you expecting a sleepover?"

I open my mouth, to offer some sort of rebuttal but am cut off the sound of the engine roaring to life. We drive fast, only stopping for one red light. I figure we're going back to the school, even though it's closed, but instead we pass the large building. He takes a right, turning onto the highway, and hits the gas as he skillfully maneuvers between cars. It's after a few minutes that I realize we're headed in the direction of my house.

"How do you know where I live?"

"You look a lot like your mom," he shrugs. "Sage Richards. Perfect Child. Perfect student. Perfect."

    I narrow my eyes at him, "don't mock me."

    "Or what, Sunshine? You'll punch me? Well," he lifts one hand off the wheel, tapping the now purple spot on his face. "That obviously turns out worse for you than for me."

    "Fuck you."

    "Oh, Sunshine." He groans, "are you serious this time or are you just teasing again because I can pull over right now."

I rake my brain for another insult that can't be lead back to sex. "Go to hell," I say.

He lets out a chuckle, but doesn't respond. It's amazing how well he's able to maneuver the car what with his bruised eye, which I've now realized is almost blackened shut. "The real world," I ask. "Where is that?"

His grip on the steering wheel noticeably tightens, allowing a little bit of red skin to show from underneath his bruised exterior. Showing that he is, indeed, just a little bit human. From being around him for even just an hour, things that people have said about him obviously aren't true. His eyes, though bruised, shine brightly and his hands are gentle.

    He pulls up outside of my house, his truck coming to a noisily stop. "Here we are, Sunshine." He cuts the engine of the truck, coming around to my side and opening the door in an unexpected gesture. "You gonna invite me in?"