Hating the Bad Boys' name

Chapter 43: Hating the bad boys name: My type

Bree's PoV

"Bree, Ryder was just at the door." My mother said as I walked downstairs.

I shrugged. "I don't care and if he comes back, tell him to go away."

She sighed. "He seems really sorry for whatever he's done."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't give a fuck."

"Bree Tomas do not use that language in my house." She said sternly.

"Just leave me alone." I snapped at her as I walked into the kitchen.

"She's only trying to help." Beth said from the stool she was sat at.

I sighed. "I know, I'm just upset."

"Well maybe you should focus all your negativity on the person that hurt you in the first place." Bethany suggested.

"What does that mean? Have you been speaking to Bailey?" I asked skeptically.

She shook her head, clearly not finding the humour in my joke. "Talk to Ryder, always two sides to a story, remember? There's what you saw and what actually happened."

"Bethany, you trying to say I'm blind?" I asked playfully.

She rolled her eyes and gestured for me to leave. "Just go talk to him."

I nodded and walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I opened the door to my room and walked in to see Ryder in there stood near my bed.

I folded my arms and scowled. "You do know breaking into someone's house is illegal, right?"

He sighed. "You wouldn't speak to me. How else was I supposed to get in?"

I looked down at my feet. "I really need to board up my window." I mumbled.

"I heard that." He mused playfully, in order to try and lighten the mood.

"You were supposed to." I snapped.

He groaned. "Bree I came here to talk to you."

I narrowed my eyes. "I thought you'd be with Shakira."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't like her, never have and never will."

I scoffed. "Yeah right."

"I didn't kiss her." He said walking over to me.

I rolled my eyes. "Ryder you're already a cheat, don't add lying to your list of bad qualities."

He used his hand and curled it around my waist, bringing me closer to him. "She came over saying something about wanting to fix things with you but then she kissed me. I didn't even kiss back. I told her to go home and she did. You've got to believe me, Shakira doesn't mean anything to me, and she never will."

Bethany was right, there always are two sides to a story, I guess maybe all I had to do was listen to the other one. "But how do I know I can trust you?" I asked my voice not going above a whisper.

He smirked. "Blondes."

I raised a brow, not understanding what he was yapping about. "Huh?"

He moved a strand of hair out my face and tucked it behind my ear. "Well . . . they aren't my type."

I laughed dryly. "Oh yeah tell me then, what is your type?"

He smirked. "I kinda have a thing for brunettes."

I smiled. "Brunettes, huh?"

He nodded. "Yeah, one in particular actually. She has a really loud mouth, she adores motorcycles as much as me, and she doesn't care what people think about her."