WORD COUNT| 4k+
"So, did you guys ever catch the guy who did it?" Your Mother asks your Father during the nightly family dinner she had prepared. "No. Whoever it was fled from the scene before we got there. But Henry thinks it's the same person who beat the last guy to a pulp." Your Dad answers, shoveling a fork full of green beans into his mouth. "It's a scary world." Your Mother mumbles, staring down at her nearly empty plate.
"Y/N are you okay honey? You've barely touched your dinner." She points out, nodding at your dish that you'd only picked at for the last half hour. Truthfully, you weren't hungry, you just wanted to return to your room before he got there. "I'm fine, just a little tired. Aquatics is kicking my butt." You lie, and excuse yourself from the table. After telling your family goodnight you ran toward your room, closing the door and locking it behind you. Chills ran down your spine as a warm hand placed itself on your arm from the space behind you. A familiar touch that you'd come to love.
"You're going to get caught one day." You laugh quietly, turning on your heel to meet the hazel eyes of the boy you were slowly falling in love with. Grayson Dolan, your Dads most wanted. "One day. But not today." He chuckles moving into the light of your desk lamp and sitting in his usual seat. Bruises covered his jaw, a slight cut on his bottom lip and dry blood crusted underneath his nose. Not a rare occurance for him. "Think you can clean me up Doc?" He jokes twisting himself from side to side in the desk chair. "I think so." You smile, grabbing the first aid kit from it's hiding place under your night stand. You instructed him to go into the restroom attached to your room and wash his face while you gathered what you would need from the box.
Two months ago you wouldn't have pictured yourself bandaging up your towns biggest criminal, but even more so to be falling in love with him. You were completely aware of what Grayson did, fighting strangers who crossed him, his friends and family. It was scary, but he assured you that he was doing it for the greater good, and who were you to judge.
It all started when school had just sprung back up, marking the start of your Senior year. You were in your room doing homework when you noticed a boy from your 9th grade year math class stumbling down your street at the wee hours of the night. You'd never spoken to him before but you knew he lived on the other side of town, the rough side. Where as you lived in a vanilla neighborhood where almost every house looked the same, so to see him wandering around concerned you. You being the daughter of a Nurse and a Policeman went outside against your better judgement to make sure he was okay. He had been in a pretty bad fight and was in need of medical attention, nothing ER worthy but enough to get infected if not treated correctly. You invited him inside while your parents and sibling slept and from then on out he'd come to you after every fight, always texting you a smiley face in advance.
Your parents were oblivious to whom this "unknown street fighter" was, and you of course didn't want to rat him out so you played dumb and kept quiet. Grayson had explained everything to you, and you soon came to see that he was so much more than what people made him out to be. He was sweet, confident, funny, protective, and very handsome. You felt oddly safe when he was around, even though if your father found out about him, he'd kill him. But you couldn't help but slowly let yourself subdo to his charm.
Grayson returned to his seat, his face now clean of any dirt or blood that once spotted his face. You dabbed at the cuts and scrapes with a alcohol soaked sponge, apologizing when he'd wince at the sting. "Don't be a baby. I'm almost positive this pain has nothing on what it feels like to be punched in the jaw." You tease, bandaging up a cut above his left brow. "Oh yeah? How would you know? Ever been in a fight?" He questions cocking his brow after your hand left his face. "Once." You admit, throwing away the trash and making sure you got all of his bumps and bruises. "Really? Tell me about it." He says clearly interested in your story. You rolled your eyes and hid the box, before returning to sit in front of him. "I was in the 6th grade and Lindsey Daily stole my watch so I shoved her into a wall." You explain. He cracked a smile and shook his head. "Did she shove you back?" He asks and you blush, mouthing a no. Just as he was about to reply you both froze at the sound of footsteps approaching from outside your door.
