trouble | i.g

eighteen - "mike"

Bella's POV

"Who's that?" I asked worriedly.

Ian shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant about the person who was knocking so hard that the front door buckled underneath their fist. But his posture was turning defensive, hands curling at his sides. "Oh you know," He trailed, "Just a friend of mine."

"Open up, you little shit." The stranger shouted, completely disregarding the fact that it was indeed night. I stared dubiously at the jumping wood frame.

"That's my nickname." Ian explained hesitantly, "You know how friends are."

"So can I call you little shit then?"

Ian sighed in exasperation, placing his hand on the small of my back and beginning to propel me out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I struggled to keep up with his pace, almost tripping over my own tangled feet, but Ian caught my elbow and set me upright.

"Please, Bella, I need you to stay here." He begged, nudging me into his room and beginning to shut the door. I grabbed the edge before it closed all the way.

"Pants. I need pants!" I reminded him, gesturing to my exposed legs. "And Ian, honestly, how stupid do you think I am? Why can't you tell me what's going on, because I swear to god, if you get me killed you little shi-"

He kissed my hard, my back pushed against the doorframe and his hands wrapped around my bare thighs. We parted with red swollen lips and messed hair. My chest was rising and falling fast, almost keeping in time with the incessant knocks outside. He placed one large hand on my collarbone for a moment, fingers curling slightly.

"Sorry. Really, I am." He said and with that he disappeared down the stairs. I'm not exactly sure what he was apologizing for- maybe it was for the crazy guy outside, maybe it was the fact that although he vowed I was safer with him, he was always getting us into some sorts of trouble. Maybe it was because I told him a long time ago that I didn't like touching but he did it anyways.

The sound of the lock sliding open drew my attention to the thin slit in between the door and the wall that I peered out of. I slowly yet quietly opened his door, tiptoeing down the stairs until I was able to see. Footsteps lumbered into the house and paused. From this angle, I could only see the shadow the newcomer cast, long and menacing as it stretched out onto the floor. Ian leaned against the wall, making sure to keep the stairs behind in view.

"Good to see you." Ian greeted, his voice displaying the complete opposite. His shoulders were taut, and his eyes flickered over nervously in my direction.

"If it isn't my ginger haired friend, Ian Gallagher." The stranger exclaimed, "Jesus, it smells like smoke in here. And why did it take you so long to open the damn door? What're you up to?"

I couldn't see this person's face, but could only see their thick arm as it clamped down harshly on Ian's shoulder. He calmly flicked it off with an air of annoyance.

"Nothing really."

"Really?" The person persisted, "A boy like you staying at home on a Friday night. Shouldn't you be out drinking or finding some girls?" When Ian didn't answer, the guy continued, "Oh that's right, you already got a little take home buddy, right?"

Ian blinked, shifting his weight from one ratty sneaker to the other. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know she's here." The guy said, and suddenly my pink converse were being held out. Both Ian and I flinched at the sight of them. It was clear he wasn't here for pleasantries, instead cut straight to the chase. "Found these cute things next to the door. They really don't look like your style.. or size."