He sat back, his mouthguard dangling between his soft, pink lips. His arms were crossed, his well-built biceps flexing. He didn't have a t-shirt to cover himself from the bitter December winter. His black, inked skin was displayed to everyone in the tiny, excited crowd. His shorts were lowly resting on his hips, and hairy happy trail was visible. He watched the two amateurs fight, noticing how quick one of them was. His feet moved fast, but his hands were slow when it came to blocking any hits.
"Styles! It's your turn!" Two red gloves was suddenly rammed against his chest as the old, fat man pointed to the fast guy—who obviously won, due to the cocky smirk on his cracked lips. Styles placed the mouthguard correctly in his mouth. He shoved his hands into the gloves, staring intensely at the arrogant bastard. He wasted no time charging up to him, and placing a hard punch to his cheek. The crowd 'ooh'ed at the sound of the punch echoing through the night.
His feet weren't quick enough against Styles. He tried to do the same pattern he did with the opponent he previously won against, but Styles wasn't dumb. He knocked him over a few times, the cocky smirk dripping onto the floor with the blood from his mouth. Fast Feet aimed to hit Styles' stomach, but he missed, and his chin was abruptly hit, making his head lean backwards. Blood flew.
"Okay, okay! He gives up!"
A girl pushed through the crowd, and ran up to Fast Feet, who's body was twitching on the floor. Styles, breathing heavy through his two nostrils, looked at her with a sneer. He hated how she looked. She had her hair done nicely, not a piece out of place. Her clothes were ironed, and her hands were manicured. He took out his mouthguard and spit on the floor beside him.
"He shouldn't be playing with the big boys." He spoke, his deep, guttural voice filling her ears. She wanted to scoff, but deep down, she knew he was right. Instead of pleasing him by telling him that he was correct, she merely helped her boyfriend up.
"Be careful. Wouldn't want to get his blood on your white shirt." He mocked, pretending to care. She scowled, and struggled to walk him back to her car. He laughed.
"Anyone else tryna' fight?" He asked the crowd. The silence answered his question, and he sighed. He turned to his unofficial boss, who's bald head reflected the moon. The cigarette was nearly dead, and he took one long drag before tossing it on the floor and stepping on it with his old, raggedy sneakers.
He opened up a large bag filled to the brim with money. He pulled out a couple stacks, handing them to a very cold and impatient Styles. Styles raised his eyebrows, unamused. The old man sighed, pulling out a few more snd putting them into his greedy hands.
Styles grinned. "Thanks."
He shoved the money into a backpack, after pulling out a black jacket. He zipped up the jacket, and tossed a strap over his shoulder. He walked away, his shoes crunching dead leaves. He started whistling a random tune when he heard groaning.
"You're so heavy, Kyle!"
He chuckled when he saw the same girl who rescued fast feet. He walked up to her car, leaning his forearm against it. "Need some help?"
Her head snapped up, startled. She glared when she saw who it was. "No."
"Aw, come on." He licked his lower lip, sensually. It stuck between his teeth and she couldn't help but glance at them. She immediately stopped when she realized who those lips belonged to.
"Don't you have someone's boyfriend to beat up?" She muttered, trying to lift Kyle into the car. She knew she should've called his brother to help.
"Not today, no." He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes. "You're going to be here all night. Just ask me, and I'll help you."
"I don't need your help! I wouldn't even be in the predicament if it wasn't for you!" She hissed, holding up Kyle while digging her fingers in her back pocket to grab her phone. He started falling, and she groaned, pushing his back up against the car. When he remained still, she went back to grabbing her phone.
He saw the blood staining her white blouse. She didn't even seem to notice, so focused on trying to get him into the car in one piece. He chose not to say anything about it, since she was already dealing with the nuisance named Kyle.
"Actually, you wouldn't be in the situation if it wasn't for your cocky bastard of a boyfriend." He refused to use words like 'predicament'. Just hearing her say that made him want to puke.
"Hi, yes, Michael? It's–"
The phone was removed from her fingers. She looked at Styles with an aggravated expression. He hung up, and then locked her phone and put it into his back pocket.
"Why did you do that!" She demanded.
"Ask me, baby."
She sighed in defeat. Her arms were beginning to ache trying to keep Kyle up. "Fine! Can you please help me?"
He smiled, smugly. "Anything for you."
He lifted Kyle over his shoulder while she opened the back door. He threw him in gently, and he groaned, lying in a fetal position.
He went to leave, but her hand landed on his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow, puzzled.
"Phone." She got straight to the point.
"Almost forgot." He went to his back pocket and grabbed her phone. He placed it into her palm, smirking. "Tell your boyfriend I said get well soon."
end of i.
n. if wattpad is ending, i'm gonna post all of my writing now LMAOO
