The Bad Boy's Good Girl

10. "They'll Hurt Me Anyway. To Hurt You."

Sort of Edited

In a room full of frozen faces

In a moment of fractured time

We eclipse in a conversation

As the words, they pass us by.

(Intoxicated - The Cab)

 I look down at my Calculus test. Damn. This shit is harder than I thought.

I tap my pencil against my cheek as I look around the room. Everyone's head is down, scribbling furiously at their papers. I frown.

I hear the clicks of calculators as I set mine to the right setting. Sighing, I begin my work.

"Five minutes left, class," Mr. Clears calls out loudly. The fuck? 

I finish twenty questions faster than ever. At the end, my hands are an inky mess that I cringe at. Wow. Pens can get messy.

As soon as the bell rings, I shoot up from my seat, handing Mr. Clears my paper as I walk out. I have one goal today - talk to Drew.

Because he can die because of me.

I wait by the door as the students file out. "Come on, fucking slow - ass son of a bitch," I curse. I realize, that, after hanging out with two of the 'Heart Breakers', I've become a hell of a lot vulgar. 

As I spot a dark head of messy hair, I grab onto a back pack strap. "Hey, pretty boy," I start, before realizing that it's not Drew. "Shit, sorry," I whisper, letting go of the annoyed boy's bag.

Soon, I see a pair of cold, empty blue eyes. "Oi, Drew," I say, loud enough for him to hear. "We need to talk."

He ignores me.

Mother-

"Drew," I say sternly. I reach out and curl my fingers over his forearm. He looks pissed. "Please."

I'm guessing that my voice is pleading, because his eyes swivel over to meet mine before he speaks. "Fine. Come here."

He doesn't even bother to look to see if I'm following before turning on his heel and leading the way down the hallway. I follow quickly, his legs longer than mine by kilos. 

I'm breathing heavily when he stops, at an empty science room. He turns the knob swiftly, his hand clenching so hard that his knuckles are white.

Aside from the fact that his eyes are empty and cold, his hair looks like shit, and his back is to me, I'd say that he looks good today.

And that ass ... hot damn.

I shake my head free from teenage hormones. 

"Well?" He asks briskly. "If this is about the fucking camera, I'll bring it tomorrow."

"It's not about the camera," even I'm surprised at how confident my voice sounds. "I know everything, Drew. There's no use avoiding me or lying to me anymore."

He cringes slightly. "Everything, Dylan? Everything?" My name sounds foreign on his lips. His back is still to me, pissing me off.

"Everything."

"Then listen to me, listen carefully," he turns sharply. "You need to back the fuck off. You cannot be seen with me. You will not be seen with me. They," he spits the word out with hatred and fury, "will hurt you. I'm going to say this once, and only fucking once. Stop. Talking. To. Me." He punctuates each word with a deadly pause.