Match Me

Chapter Two: The Prophecy Of Ass

Chapter Two: The Prophecy of Ass (Meeting Isaac Bass.)

"No, it's Hermione from Harry Potter." I snap, rolling my eyes at him. "Is it not obvious?"

"Hard to tell when you're covered in shit, reeking like a homeless man, and missing your glasses," His emerald eyes scan my body, and his nose wrinkles in disgust. Ouch. "I mean, most of the time you look enough of a troll for me to be confused sometimes, but today is just over-the-top."

Wow, okay, not gonna lie. The troll part hurt. A lot. "Look, Levi." I begin in my sweetest voice, "you need to back off before I murder you!" I chirp, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes, but he just laughs.

Before I can question his sudden outburst of hysterical laughter, he clutches his stomach and chokes out a few words.

"Y-You," He gasps for air, laughing somewhat high-pitched, with the occasional snort. Lovely laugh. "You're going to beat me up?" With a quick look-over, I determine that yeah, I could beat him up. He's the lean and lithe type, not muscular. Besides, his dad is probably not a certified boxing instructor.

"Uh, yeah?" I reply, hopping up from the bench. I don't really know him well enough to be sassing him like this, but I'm in a pissy mood today and he's just driving me over the edge.

"You want to try?" Levi asks, as he raises an eyebrow at me. "I don't fight girls, but I really doubt you'd be able to land one on me."

"If you doubt it, why not let me try, Miss Priss?" I counter, scowling at him.
He chuckles in response. "Bring it Ember."

xoxoxoxo xoxoxoxo oxoxox

"Now I'm covered in bird shit!" Levi groans, as I sit on his torso, triumphant in my win.

"You literally asked for it," I remind him, and he yanks me down by grabbing one of my arms. I topple over onto the ground next to him, leaving me with a stinging pain in the back of my head. Asshole.

"But I still win," He replies, his somewhat minty breath fanning my face. I nearly gag on the overload of the peppermint scent. I've never liked mint.

"What do you mean you win?" I ask as the corner of his mouth creeps up, stretching into a smirk. He stands up, brushing the dirt off his clothes, and I do the same while eyeing him carefully. Popular kids have a way of twisting everything to their advantage.

"I have your glasses and your phone." He says, mischief flickering in his pale green eyes. Relief washes over me when I realize that I have a chance at getting them both back, a much better chance than if a stranger picked them up.

But then I remember that this could not turn out well for me. I don't mix with the sporty cool kids for a reason: they're all manipulative lying assholes.

Take Levi for example. We haven't talked since junior high school, and he had the nerve to tell me I look like a troll.

Can you blame me for avoiding most of them?

"Can I have them back, then?" I ask, knowing the answer to this stupid question.

"Let's see," He furrows his dark eyebrows and purses his lips. "Today you beat me up, covered me in bird shit and threatened to murder me... Thanks, but no thanks," He replies, and I mentally groan. I'm going to have to beg him for it.

"Please, Levi! What have I done to you?" I say, and he gives me a look. I rethink my sentence, since technically I've done a lot today. "What have I done to you before today?"

"Nothing," He replies. "But it's what you've done today that counts."

I let out a heavy sigh. "I'll do whatever you want me to, I really need my glasses because they're actually something that I rely on. Please, Levi."