Love, Hate & Mr.Player | ✔

[8] Mr. Player's Latest Prey(Edited)

Chapter 8

Mr. Player’s Latest Prey

ALEX

I wait for a second or two for Dylan to fully get out of his car, and then toss him the car keys, and then without a single glance, I hurriedly walk away. I notice people staring curiously at me from afar. It’s not every day that you see a girl arrive in school in Mr. Player’s car. Especially a girl like me—plain, boring looking, not belonging to the popular crowd, an invisible stranger. It’s not that Dylan didn’t bring girls to school, he did. He brought tall, slim girls with model-like figures and long legs. He usually pushed them against his black sports car and made-out with them right there and then in the parking lot, in front of everyone. This was nothing new, a girl arriving with him. What was new was a girl like me being seen with Dylan.

I hurriedly walk away, trying to hide somewhere from all the judgmental eyes, analyzing me, judging me, like they know me. They all are probably thinking along the same lines—that I’m an easy ‘catch’, another one of Mr. Player’s plaything, that I probably won’t last more than 2-3 days. They can’t be more wrong. I’m not anyone to Dylan, definitely not one of his girls who fall to his feet the first chance they get. But they all probably consider me a slut anyway, for being seen coming out of Dylan. But what do they know? They don’t know I’d never been kissed until last night.

But that’s how people are, judging is human nature. It’s in our genes, our blood. We assume things about people without actually knowing anything about them. We think of nasty things and stereotype people, not considering that these same people might have some goodness in them too. And honestly, I don’t blame them. I myself have judged uncountable number of people—intentionally or unintentionally, but I have. It’ll be hypocritical of me to lash out at these people for doing something I’ve done myself many times.

I silently walk, not paying attention to anyone. Suddenly, a hand clasps around mine. My first instinct is to yank off that hand and punch whoever it is doing this. That’s just who I am, I don’t like being touched unnecessarily. But I don’t do it, something prevents me from doing it, and boy am I glad I didn't do it! It’s Tia who’d grabbed my hand, not some lousy stranger. Thank god I didn’t do what I was about to do. I don’t think my best friend would appreciate me punching her.

"Thank god, I thought you would never stop." she exclaims. "I’ve been calling out your name for the past minute, didn’t you hear me?”

"Oh, I'm sorry. My mind was too preoccupied. I just didn't want everyone to stare at me. You know how much I hate it when people stare at me." I mumble.

"Yeah, I know. So tell me, how did it go? How in the world did you let Dylan give you a lift?" She asks in her let’s-gossip-about-someone voice. She wants all the juicy details, not that there are any.

"Oh, it's a long story. Besides, I'm not talking to you, so I don't have to tell you anything" I reply back, suddenly remembering I’m supposed to be angry at her for giving Dylan my phone number and address. I mean who does that, giving their best friend’s personal details to a random (hot) stranger?

"What? Why? What did I do?" Tia asks, her voice laced with worry.

I narrow my eyes at her. "You know very well what you did"

"Fine, so I gave him your phone number, and address, big deal!" she exclaims, rolling her eyes, like she can’t believe how childish I’m acting.

"Not to mention I have to endure car rides with him every day, because of you, when I don't even need to. I have my own car thank you very much."