My Brothers Best friend (REWRITTING)

1|He's so bad, but he does it so well...

The early morning sun was already well risen as adrenaline rushed in and out my body. My heart throbbed against my chest and my feet stayed grounded below me. Stillness was all I heard. No  dogs barking, no city traffic, nor any people. The wind ruffled through my hair and through my Clothes leaving me cold, although there was a glisten of a hot sweat.  I slowed my pace down and brought my hands down to my knees taking in the fresh crisp air. Running was the only thing that kept sane, if not my thoughts would consume me leaving me with nothing but cold memories.

I took a few breaths before checking my phone, 7:30 the time read. The coffee shop just happened to be on my running path, as I was in desperate need of caffeine. Everyone who lived on my street knew of this coffee shop it was a locals place, everyone knew everyone.

The large line stood in front of me, I guess 7:30 was the sweet spot. I waited in line as my mind filled with thoughts, but a deep voice suddenly pulled me out of my day dreaming. I looked up seeing a  tall man standing in front of me, he had to be a least six feet. His voice was raspy, and deep and seemed to command the whole room. I raised a brow slightly as he asked, no demanded- the employee for a black coffee, no sugar, no cream. His voice was so still, it almost seemed it had no emotion behind it what so ever as if it was dark and black, just like his coffee. I chewed on my bottom lip intrigued, as my eyes wander up and down the mysterious man.

He's dressed in a black leather jacket, fitted jeans that loosened at the bottom to perfectly cover the boots he wore. I looked at his slicked brown hair, and then to his frame he was lean but theres bulk on him too; muscels beneath the leather jacket. It wasn't my intention to stare, but I just couldn't help it. There was something about this man, I just couldn't put my finger on it.

He waited for his coffee like the rest of us waited in line, but it seemed it was taking unusually long. He crossed his arms, and I watched as his muscles tensed through his jacket then portraying a deep sigh of what seemed annoyance.

I stepped back as he finally got his coffee and not wasting anytime to say thank you. With a swift move, the man walked right past me, too fast for me to catch a glimpse of his face.

I stopped chewing my lips as  I was finally being greeted with the barista, "Dark coffee please." seemed the dark stranger and I had one thing in common.

The wait seemed to go by quickly as my mind began to cloud again, I thanked the barista as she handed me a cup of steaming hot coffee. I heard loud footsteps make there way to me and heavy breath, I turned around and was stopped dead in my tracks, by the mysterious stranger. He held  an angry face, and a cup of coffee in one hand.

"You fucking added sugar." He yelled to the barista holding up his coffee. My eyes closed and my fist clenched feeling the sensation of a hot liquid run down my shirt. Wrong place, at the wrong time couldn't have described this situation any better. Along with anger issues, if he hadn't crushed the cup with his  hand, then I wouldn't be standing her with coffee all over me.

I heard gasp from all around me, "This is just fucking great." His sneered, then proceeded to tell me how he would pay for the shirt. I was so furious I couldn't even face the coffee spilling asshole. I had never seen someone get so worked up over a cup of coffee. I sighed, reminding myself there was people around me, and that I couldn't make a scene. I picked my head up only to see his dilated blue eyes starting at mine, the room fell silent. In the mix of it all, all I had seen was his high cheekbones, cut jawline, and mischievous eyes. His stare was so fixated on me, it hurt.

I stiffed my throat as he looked me up and down, "This should be enough for the shirt hm?" He asked handing me a one hundred dollar bill.

swiftly I grabbed the bill from his finger tips, and grinned shaking my head. It wasn't a sorry, he was trying to buy his way out of his chaos that he caused, and by the looks of it he's used to getting his way.