My Bad Boy's Diary

~Nineteen~ Scoundrel

His timing could not have been worse.

I grimaced at Dalton as he stood there, grinning at us.

"Hey, Brooklyn." He said, his gaze sweeping over me in appreciation. "Wow, look at you."

I blushed, my toes curling in my slippers.

If Matheson wasn't here...

I could practically feel him steaming beside me.

Dalton looked at Matheson now and gave him a bland smile. "Matt, what up?"

I sucked in a breath, bracing myself.

Matheson puffed up in insult, understandably. "It's Matheson."

"Oh, sorry, man." Dalton stepped aside, a clear invitation for Matheson to leave. "Didn't recognize you."

"You beat me up last week, almost broke my nose 'cause you thought I stole something from you?" Matheson had his hands shoved in his pockets and was glaring at Dalton openly. He wasn't usually this confrontational.

"Oh, right. Sorry about that. My bad." Dalton said, rubbing his neck and doing his best to look sheepish.

I pursed my lips at him. I knew him better than to buy into his B.S..

I turned to Matheson.

He had his hands fisted now, however, and was looking murder at Dalton.

"You're sorry?!" Matheson railed, turning pink in the cheeks again.

I put my hand on his arm and Dalton tracked the movement. "Matheson," I said in a low voice, "maybe you should just go. I'll call you, okay? We should talk more..."

Matheson turned on me, all but snarling, and I actually took a step back.

Dalton shifted his body weight, one simple movement, but I felt him getting ready for a fight if Matheson made some wrong move, in his eyes.

I took a deep breath. "Mathie-"

"You're having him over for dinner now, Seriously, B?" Matheson said to me quietly, as if Dalton somehow wouldn't overhear.

"My parents insisted, because he's taking me to the dance-"

"Ugh! Whatever, I so don't wanna hear it!" He shouted, covering his ears momentarily. "You know what, Brooklyn? Don't fucking talk to me anymore, not 'til you stop hanging out with fucking termites like him." And Matheson shoved past Dalton on his way down our porch steps.

I stared after him in mute shock, my mouth open.

He got into his olive drab Toyota and drove off with visible road rage.

I put my hand over my aching heart. I felt terrible.

Dalton cleared his throat. "Well, that was awkward. Did he just call me a termite?"

I turned a glare on him. "You! Why do you always have to cause so much trouble?!"

"Me?" He touched his chest with his free hand. The bouquet of wild flowers bobbed in his other. "What did I do?"

"You were the one who beat him up!" I jabbed my finger into his chest. "You almost broke his nose!"

Dalton's brown eyes darkened even more and suddenly he was right up in my face. "Because I thought he had stolen my private property, but it wasn't him, was it? It was you." He chuckled wickedly. "Maybe you should be the one apologizing to him, not me."