"He's a keeper," Brandon chuckles.
I pull my bag on properly and head for the door. I guess i'll just walk. I wanted to anyway, but what Zeke said is just annoying. When I get outside, I see Zeke driving off in his car. Asshole.
"Come on," Brandon says. I didn't even realise he was standing beside me. He begins walking though the parking lot.
"Come where?" I follow him.
"On my face, if you'd like."
What?
"What?"
Wait.
Oh.
"Gross," I grimace and he laughs, walking backwards as he looks at me.
"I'm taking you home," he finally says.
I come to a stop. "No, thanks. I'm fine with walking."
He stops too. "Marnie, I ain't gonna rape you. I'm a nice person doing a good deed. Plus, if Blakely knows I drove his baby home, he'll be pissed."
Baby? I'm not his baby. Crap, why am I smiling so big.
"You like him," he smiles at my expression.
"I do not."
"You know, he don't deserve a chick like you, but the dudes changed a lot. Probably because of you. Which people are pissed about, by the way."
I know Zeke has stopped smoking and drinking, but he's still the same person. "Who is people?"
He raises an eyebrow and starts walking again. "Just some dudes; Jordan. Zeke's friends. They're not really friends anymore though."
"Because of me?"
"No, because of some shit that happened."
"What happened?"
"Ask Blakely."
"He won't tell me."
"Then I shouldn't."
He comes to a stop in front of a motorbike. "No way," I shake my head.
"Don't be a little girl," he gets on and hands me a helmet.
"We could die."
"Baby, I've been riding this thing for long enough and i've never died."
It worries me that i've come so used to hearing people call me baby since I started hanging out with Zeke.
"If I go on, will you tell me about Zeke and Jordan?"
He sighs, "Okay. You're so manipulative."
I shrug, not denying it, and climb onto the back of his bike and put the helmet on.
He revs the engine. "You better hold on."
I feel uncomfortable putting my arms around Brandon. As if I'm betraying Zeke.
"Go slow," I tell him.
"I like it fast, baby."
"Shut up." I can't talk to any of these people without them throwing innuendos around.
I tell him my address and as he pulls out of the parking lot, I hold onto him for dear life and close my eyes shut. The wind from the ride is making my hair fly everywhere, and every time we turn a corner I feel like I am going to die. But I make it home alive, and he parks his motorcycle in my driveway.
YOU ARE READING
Babysitting The Bad Boy
Novela Juvenil{#1 in teenagers} {#2 in fiction} {#2 in popular} "You better not tell anyone about this." "Aw why not? I'm sure your fandom of desperate girls would love to know that their precious prince charming needs a babysitter." I smile innocently back at...