Playing with Matches

Chapter 3

So, I don't know if everyone agrees with me, but I just love Raysa's POV. She's so fun. I love writing her. Anyway, It's been a while since I've posted, so here it is. Let me know what you think. If you want to make a cover, you are so welcome to because I still haven't figured out how to. Of course, I'm going to try and figure it out, but that could take a while. Here you go:

                “We only have, like, five classes together.” Ryan whines like a child, so used to having Ricky and I in all of his classes that he’s throwing a mini tantrum when he doesn’t get what he wants.

                Laughing will only piss him off, so I just shrug, secretly pleased to have two classes without my two protective twins hovering over my shoulder. Maybe I can actually make a friend that’s, you know, a girl for once. The only friends I’ve ever had are the fighting boys, the ones that Ricky and Ryan have managed to find over the years. Otherwise, I’m at a loss for any female friends.

                According to every female I know, though, that’s not a bad thing. While my brothers are just my brothers, they’ve been described as angels by a few unsuspecting victims. With the same white blonde hair as me and lighter, baby blue eyes, I know what the girls see when they describe them in such a way. They’re positively angelic, when they want something. Otherwise, they’re hell on wheel, complete assholes with no regard to anyone’s feelings, which is why they take my protection detail so seriously. They’d never want anyone to treat me like they treat the women they hang out with.

                “If something happens, you know the call.” Ricky reminds me, a small smirk on his lips as he walks down the hall like he owns the place.

                Let’s get this out of the way right now. My brothers aren’t what you’d call popular. Sure, angelic looks get them noticed, but bad attitudes and total disregard for the alpha male’s feelings, usually end in them fighting with the popular crowd. My brothers are all big and muscly, almost meaty in their size. We never actually had a group, though I knew that the boys sometimes hung out with the stoners and the gang bangers. Hell, half our friends are in one gang or another.

                But that doesn’t mean we ever stayed in a crowd. The moment someone made a lewd comment about me or a naïve comment about fighting, the boys would break a nose and we’d be by ourselves again. It’s never really bothered me all that much, I know that they’re there for me no matter what, but it’s painfully obvious within these halls that we’ll fit in even less than before. In their designer duds, the population walks like they have the world at their fingertips, which I don’t doubt.

                I can smell the political intrigue in the air and am betting that half the people here are someone famous’s relatives. Maybe not sons and daughters, but nieces and nephews, grandchildren, that sort of thing. It’s really good that we don’t scare easily.

                “Intros are the hardest part, Ray-Ray. It won’t take long, let us talk the most, and you’ll be fine.” Being the center of attention is a big no-no for me. I don’t like doing speeches, introducing myself, or anything that involves a crowd of people staring at me for longer than not at all. The boys know this, which is why they’re my safety cushion. They take care of that sort of thing so I don’t have to.

                “Alright.” I send Ricky a grateful look, wanting nothing more than to get this day over with. I can blend in like a pro, which means that, tomorrow, I’ll be able to go back to fading into the background, like it’s meant to be. Then again, it’s harder than it looks, especially with everyone in the hallway ogling us as we go by. Or maybe they’re just ogling the boys…