Playing With Fire (Previously Burning The Bad Boy) (UNDER RECONSTRUCTION)

{5} I Set The Bad Boy On Fire

It just happened that the weather was against the thought of raising money for charity.

A dark, heavy bank of fog hung over and between the booths set out along a winding path that eventually led to the rides at the far end of the park. Rachel was against packing everything up and heading back to my place; she had promised and made an obligation to help the kids in need and refused to let them down. Once I allowed her explanation to sink in, I fell victim to the guilt myself and agreed to stay for the entire duration of the carnival.

Leaning into the counter, I watched my best friend continue to flirt with Ryder Stone. The fact that the devil's best friend was actually attempting to give Rach the time of day was quite possibly the most shocking thing that I'd been in the presence of in a long time.

To my irritation, my eyes kept wandering in search of Damon. There wasn't any way Ryder had come without him; the only reason they'd come would be to cause some sort of trouble. If he wasn't anywhere nearby, it couldn't mean anything good.

"You must be McKenzie." Ryder's greeting drew me out of my daze, his dark eyes dancing back and forth between my best friend and me.

"Micky is fine." I mumbled, propping my chin on my hand.

He crossed his arms as he leaned down, "Damon isn't someone you want to mess with, sweetie."

"Damon stole my diary." I snapped, straightening out, "He invaded my privacy and I really don't care if he isn't a good person to be around. I want it back, and I'm going to get it."

Ryder's eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise, a look of respect crossing his face. "Okay, Micky. We'll just have to wait and see what happens then, won't we?"

I didn't respond; I couldn't. Rachel dragged Ryder back into a conversation, pushing me aside as if it were some sort of way to relieve me of my duty. I hopped over the counter of the booth and headed down the winding path toward the woods that I knew led to the bathrooms.

It wasn't my first choice to have to use a disgusting port-a-potty, but I didn't really have a say in the matter. I either used one of them or walked around with a giant splotch of pee on the back and front of my jeans.

Relieved there was a street light hanging above, I stepped into the vacant bathroom substitute and laid toilet paper around the seat. I had just finished my business when I heard a quiet voice outside the door.

Was Damon seriously stalking me?

"'When I'm sixteen, I'm going to finally confess my feelings to Alec.' How did that work out for ya, Mick?"

My heart sunk at the sound of the familiar voice on the other side of the door I might have just done the unthinkable; jinxed myself.

"Does he know how you feel?" Damon continued when I said nothing.

"Why are you doing this, Damon?" I responded, my hand pressed against the cold door. He stayed quiet for so long I was sure he had given up on me and walked away. Of course, luck wasn't in my favor as usual, and the moment I pushed the door open, I was face to face with the conceited idiot. "Can't  you at least let me use the bathroom in peace?"

The left side his mouth was curled into a cocky smirk, eyes roaming my face for any reaction that he could center in on and attack; a weak spot.

"I'm just having a little fun." He brushed his fingertips under my chin, "Not that someone like you would know what that is, Princess."