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

{17} I Wanna Slap You In The Face. . . With A Chair

If there was one person that was under the impression that I wasn't going to eventually be the reason Damon died a slow, miserable death, they were wrong. It didn't come as a surprise in the least that it had been him I almost hit. I'd been almost killing Damon since second grade.

I sat in the car for a little over ten minutes, pressing my forehead against the steering wheel as I tried to push my embarrassment and guilt down into the pit of my stomach.

How was I supposed to walk into the place after almost hitting Damon. . . again?

I don't know what kind of sick, warped game Fate is playing with us, but it gets more and more out of hand every time I see him.

If it were up to my head and not my heart, I would have sped out of the parking lot seconds after it happened. Being the nice person I am, I couldn't leave Ryder hanging like that. I knew I wasn't too important to him, but he had personally invited me and I felt as if it would be a slap in the face if I disappeared on him.

Cursing quietly, I forced myself out of the car and headed for the building. There was a couple a few years older than me standing outside smoking, sharing a long, dark look as if one of them had just been caught cheating. Maneuvering my way through them, I was lost in a crowd of people stepping inside. This just happened to be one of the few times I was happy that Ryder was unusually tall and I could see him over everyone else at the bar.

He was pushing a water bottle back and forth between his hands, deep in a conversation with one of the jocks I'd seen him with after school. I approached hesitantly, feeling the sudden need to disinfect my body after pushing through so many people.

"Damn, Thomas! You clean up nice." Ryder complimented, dropping his arm over my shoulder and hugging me against his side.

"So you're saying I don't look nice all the time?" I feigned hurt. "Wow, Ryder. I didn't know you were one of those guys. Way to boost a girl's confidence."

Both of the boys laughed, easing my anxiety. Once he regained his composure, Ryder nudged my shoulder gently.

"Today is someone's birthday, you know." he whispered.

I raised an eyebrow. "Happy Birthday?"

"Not mine, sweetheart. But thanks." he winked. "I think you'll get it after a few tries."

I could feel the other boys dark eyes on me as I thought quietly to myself, and to say it was an uncomfortable feeling would be an understatement. I had always heard people say they got bad vibes by just being around someone, but I hadn't ever felt them until now.

"I'll give you a hint." he leaned forward with a smirk. "You have the ability to almost kill him whenever he's within a fifty feet of you."

Today was Damon's birthday?

"He doesn't seem like much of a party guy." I answered.

"He's not." the jock outstretched his hand. "I'm Tyler."

Shooting Ryder a quick look, I took the boy's hand. "Micky."

Clearing my throat, I leaned back against the bar and let my eyes scour the crowd for the man of the night. He was nowhere to be seen and I really couldn't blame him. If Rachel ever did anything like this for me, I would lose it and hide under my blankets the entire time. Wherever he disappeared off too, I'm sure would be to his benefit.

"Want anything to drink?" Ryder asked.

I shook my head. "I'm fine, thanks."

As if he'd been summoned by our thoughts, Damon pushed through crowds of people until he reached us, immediately grasping my forearm. "What the hell are you doing here?"