My Bad Boy

Chapter two

( Julio POV )

I shouldn’t have messed with her.

I just couldn’t help it.

I’m the guy that likes to get in trouble and do the things people love to consider reckless or stupid. I will tell a girl anything they need to hear to get them in my bed and I can lie through my teeth and make you believe anything you want.

I know the art of scheming. My whole life is a scheme worth writing about. I can hustle anybody to do anything I want. It’s like taking a candy from a baby. I’m the guy you try to avoid on the street because with just one look, you’ll know I’m trouble.

I have tattoos covering my arms, some with meaning and some just for show. I have Mexican blood running through my veins and it just makes me more of who I am. I’m proud of who I am and where I come from.

But that’s all I’m proud of.

Not once have I ever done something for the greater good. When it comes down to it, caring for other people just wasn’t in my nature. Either we were close or you weren't a care in my mind.

Igrew up living the life my father put me into and it made me make sacrifices in my life I wish I didn't have too..

I no longer did things without meaning. I learned a long time ago that caring for something more than you should lands you in one thing: Trouble. Not that I don’t like trouble, I just know my limitless.

Girls know me as the heart-breaker.

But for some reason they can’t stay away.

I’m honest about who I am even when I’m lying.  People say I need to change. Figure out where I am going, who I plan to be. But why would I change for something that means so little to me?

I am who I am and why would I want to change that?

My life has been full of disappointments and I live my life on whims. I like being sarcastic, cocky, and rude. I like being Julio Hernandez. I like doing the unpredictable because my life is beyond predictable. I’m a cliche’ in the damn making.

Sure, It doesn't get me far and pisses people off. I don’t care though because at-least I’m not trying to hide who I am. Hell, I don't even try to kid myself anymore. I learned a while ago that you should always keep people at a distance.

Never let them get close.

If they get close, they have a chance to hurt you. They have a chance to disappoint you. When you give someone hope, they have the chance to build you up and break you down. They have the handbook on how to break you where it hurts the most.

Why the hell would anyone wanna give that kind of thing away so easily?

When I see my motorcycle leaning against a tree in the parking lot I smirk to myself. My mom was so dead-set against it, but I refused to give it up. Cars were to compacted for me. I liked the freedom a motorcycle offered me.

Freedom is all I’ve ever wanted in my life.

Mi madre thought it was my death. She swore every day that a motorcycle was the last thing a guy like me needed. Maybe she was right. I swear she was wrong.

Like I said, a motorcycle was the ideal thing to have. I sling my shitty bag on the bar and when I slip on, I look over and I see Kelsey Mays herself, walking down the pathway, leading to the girls even shittier dorms.

Her head is down and her hair is swinging in the fall air, creating a sort of golden brown curtain hiding her from the world. It’s like she refuses to look up at the things around her. She likes to live in her head more than she does in the real world.