Discolored

Chapter 1 - The Bus Ride

Becca was angry. No, strike that, Becca was straight-up pissed. As she plowed through the mass of people to get to her bus, she could practically feel steam curl off her body in contrast to the cold air. She stepped off the curb to check the numbers of the buses, and the image flashed through her mind on repeat.

I was just going to my locker. Doesn’t everyone have to after school? It’s a routine thing. And you know what else is routine? Me seeing my boyfriend at my locker, that’s what.

But he never brings...guests with him. And those guests are never female. And they are most definitely never the school slut.

And God knows it is not routine for me to see my boyfriend and said slut making out in front of my locker.

I should have just ran. I should have just ran right then and there and asked my mother to pick me up so I could cry my eyes out with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. That’s what any sane girl would have done. But no, stupid little me had to take action. At least the red, hand-shaped mark across his face will have people asking lots of questions.

She boarded her bus, quickly sitting down and yanking her iPod touch out of her pocket. Fumbling with the lock, she sighed heavily as the screen requesting her password came up. Yet another sting to the heart. Ruefully, she swiped her, now previous, anniversary date. She cringed as the unlock sound clicked. Shaking her head, she switched on her music, letting the voice of Kellin Quinn from Sleeping with Sirens resonate in her ears. As he sang about how a cheater did him wrong in “If You Can’t Hang”, she smirked at the appropriateness. It was almost like her iPod knew her mood exactly.

Music flowed through her headphones, and Becca fumed. Cheat, cheat cheat. The word ran through her brain, almost loud enough to block out the music. Her train of enraged thought was only broken by her feeling someone sit next to her. This surprised her. Nobody usually sat next to her. It wasn’t like she was a loner or anything, but the bus was not very crowded, and most people sat in the back. She was more of a second-seat-from-the-front kind of girl. She turned her head, and sitting next to her, leaning back casually in the bus seat with his right arm over the back, was the type of guy she only thought she’d see at a Warped Tour concert. 

Becca studied him: his jet-black hair that ended around the middle of his neck, and fell a little over his eyes. The way he was dressed completely in black. His black skinny jeans bunched up at the bottom, making it seem like they were to big for him, despite fitting perfectly otherwise. The black v-neck tee-shirt he was wearing was distressed to a deep gray in a few places, and his black leather jacket was slightly faded. He had a thick, silver metal bracelet around his right wrist, but what really caught Becca’s attention was the necklace he was wearing. The chain was strong; not one of the far-too-fragile gold chains on most necklaces. It was clearly made of some sort of metal - possibly steel or silver. But what was on it was not something you’d expect on a guy such as him. It was a ring. Specifically, an old, slightly tarnished ring of a gold rose. One could tell it was once painted red, but most of it had worn off so only the edges had the dark crimson hue on them. It dangled downwards, hitting just below his collarbone, right where his breast bone started. It was soft, romantic, almost delicate, and severely contrasted the rest of his look - so dark and foreboding. 

When Becca finally made eye contact with him, she was taken aback by his blue-green eyes, which contrasted incredibly bright against his livid complexion. At the moment those eyes were looking at her with a smug, curious look, with one eyebrow raised, silently asking some sort of question. And frankly, Becca was not in the mood for smugness, especially from a stranger.

“Uhm, hi?” she half questioned, half greeted, pausing her music.

“Hello there. Would you care to explain why you look like you’re about to tear the poor, innocent seat in front of you apart?” he asked. His voice was mature and Becca could tell he had quite a wit behind his seemingly overconfident exterior. But the obviously personal question blocked out that notion, and simply made her more annoyed.