The Screwed Up Club *UNDER CONSTRUCTION*

Unknown Words

Picture of Micah above! His hair isn't exactly the color I want it to be, but you can imagine.

"You really expect me to get on that thing?" I say, my voice high. I eye the metal death trap.

I mean, it was super attractive when it was just Blue on it with his leather jacket and stuff, but now that I realize he wants me to ride, it couldn't be any less appealing.

"Come on, Mare. Live a little, for once in your life," he urges me, an almost wild look in his eyes.

"You haven't been drinking, right?" I blurt out, scared by the similarity in the look in his eyes to the one my brother gets when he's had too many beers.

His dark brows furrow, but his eyes shine with amusement, "It's called being excited, sweetheart."

My cheeks burn, and I look down at my converse.

I hear him sigh, and step away from the motorcycle, closer to me.

"I would never drink before driving this thing. Especially when I'm about to be carrying precious cargo with me. Just trust a man besides Carson Tanner for once," he says softly, and takes another step towards me.

My head whips up, and my eyes connect with his.

How did Blue Jones know so much about me? When he came to our school sophomore year, I would occasionally catch him looking at me, but he never talked to me. Around junior year the girls started paying more attention to him, once he started getting in more fights and flirting with girls.

He sometimes sent a snarky comment my way, but I always just quickly retorted and walked away before he could see how hard I was blushing.

I had a major crush on him, then. But one day I found him making out with Vanessa White and I was sickeningly aware of how much he acted like my father. I could practically hear Mom's words, standing there.

"Your father was always with a different girl, always got into fights. He knew just what to say to make you angry or noticed. I thought with me he was different, and at first that was true. I was the exception to every one of his rules and behaviors."

She always sounded so wistful, so disgustingly in love when she talked about him. It was like she didn't even care that he left. It made me resent her, and myself, for almost falling into the same trap.

I made a promise to myself, right there, that I wouldn't give in to my feelings. That I would steer clear of him at all costs so he couldn't make me into a fool like my father did my mother.

And now here I am, about to go on a date with him.

"Fine. But I want to make one thing perfectly clear. This is not a date," I say sternly, and poke his chest with every word. His hand wraps around my finger and he smirks.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," he mumbles with a wink.

Staring up into those dark eyes, I couldn't help but notice how long and dark his eyelashes were. I would kill for eyelashes like that...

He turns away and hops back on the motorcycle, breaking me from my trance. I thank God silently for me putting on spandex shorts under my skirt as I straddle the bike.

He hands me a helmet, and I can't help but pout before putting it on. No doubt all Ebony's work would go to complete waste.

He turns toward me, smirking.

"Unless you want to fly right off of this bike, I suggest you hold on to me."

Then, he turns back around, puts on his helmet, and revs the engine. With a terrified squeal, I quickly wrap my arms around his waste tightly before we shoot out of the driveway.