Pulse

Chapter 8- Porn and Sickos

Chapter Eight

Oxana's POV-

I smack his arm as he speeds away from the lights, his eyes focusing on the road from there on. He takes us through twisting and unfamiliar roads, continuing for about 20 minutes before slowing to a stop again. The trees here are thick, and the moon casts shadows over Dorian's eyes when he turns around to glance at me.

He lowered his eyes again, and I hoisted myself off his bike, onto the freshly wet grass.

"Are you quite done?" I grumble, still mad about the white t-shirt black bra incident.

Dorian shakes his head, and eyes me up and down once again. I reach for my savior from his bike and pull a leather jacket from the back seat. When I zip it up over my exposed chest, he rolls his eyes again, "Being that modest today?"

"No. I'm just not one of those people who's gonna fuck around with you." 

His smile falls a little bit before softly asking, "Is that what you think of me?"

I shrug regretfully, "Maybe."

"Well in that case we should probably leave."

I study his rough features, searching for a bluff, but for once his tough attitude fades away he just looks tired of just standing there, avoiding my eye contact. When I take a step closer to him, he moves slightly back. He doesn't seem angry, just annoyed or offended with my words. All the softness leaves his gaze, and suddenly he wear a smirk. A clearly fake smirk.

"Unless you would like something from me?"

Another joke, maybe a defense mechanism? A way to avoid real feelings and confrontations? Or maybe just me overanalyzing. 

I groan, "You're a fucking pig."

He clasps his hand over his mouth, "I thought we really had something?" 

This time he steps forward, and pulls a cigarette from his coat pocket. I instinctly draw my hand back, and snatch it from his hold. I would never take him for the smoking type.

"What the fuck are you doing with this?"

"You see, I know you used to smoke and wanted to maybe offer you your former temptation."

I suddenly feel a rush of anger course through my veins. Not because he is lying, or trying to get under my skin, but because he's actually right. When shit got bad, I smoked whenever I could. And it was hell to get past that awful addiction. I clench my fists stubbornly, and walk right up to him, leaving mere inches between his face and mine. 

With a fist full of his shirt I draw him near my face until less than a centimeter separates us, "You fuck with me one more time, and I swear to God, you will never get rid of me. I will be the stain that never comes out. The god damn scar that never disappears from your life. Just try me one more time, and you will wish you turned a blind eye to my little cliff diving stunt." 

After my outburst I swiftly wind my arm up, and left hook him right in his eye. 

I quickly pull myself back, surprised by the actions that adrenaline had encouraged me to do. 

Dorian stumbles back, and catches himself. He brings his hand up to his eye, before wiping it on his pants, and laughing. Like an actual laugh, not even seeming the slightest bit upset.

I expect a punch back, or to be left here in the mud like someone else had done, but I only receive a smile. 

"You son of a bitch." His dimple pops out, "That hurt like a mother. But you got your point across." He tosses the cigarette on the ground, and lifts his boot to step on it.