Striker

Hoodie

I looked up to the culprit behind the interruption to my eating. He had a smirk on his face as he looked me up and down. 

"Nice outfit." He said, still smirking. 

"Why are you here, Striker." I glared, wanting him away from me as soon as possible. He did look very attractive, though. He had on jeans and a white wife beater, showing off his very muscular body and tattoos. I couldn't help but slightly ogle at the perfection he was. Even his face was ruggedly handsome. 

"I told you to give me my hoodie back. You didn't. You don't get to keep it." He said. Back to his rude self. I completely forgot I had it, honestly. 

"Oh. Sorry. Follow me, I'll give it to you." I said, slightly blushing. 

"Why didn't you ride home with us?" He asked. I just shrugged in response, not really wanting to give an answer. "Max was worried. He has no way to contact you either to check. Do you even have a phone?" He continued quizzing me. 

"No. I have no need for one. I have nobody I need to talk to." I replied, wishing he would stop with the questions. 

I grabbed his hoodie and handed it to him. He grabbed it out of my hands and put it over his shoulder. 

"Don't forget yours next time. I'll need to go wash this now to rid it of any diseases." He said. I rolled my eyes in return, not feeling like dealing with his remarks. I walked out of my room with him following behind me. I heard a car pull up outside. 

"Were your friends coming too?" I asked Striker. Silently praying they were. 

"Nope. They don't even know I'm here. Why?" He replied. Fuck. This is not good. 

"You have to go. Like right now. Please." I said, desperately willing him to listen. He didn't pf course, and just looked at me weirdly. The door to my house opened and my father walked through. He looked at us and glared. 

"Who the fuck is this?" He said, looking at Striker, then to me. 

"A guy that was lost. He needed directions." I said, looking down to the ground. 

"I'm standing right here. You could have asked me. I'm Aella's schoolmate." Striker said. I inwardly winced, knowing this was just making everything worse for me. 

"Leave." My father said, looking at him. 

"Gladly." Striker responded, opening the door and walking out.

My father advanced to me, clearly irate with what just went on. I knew what was to come, and just silently wished to be knocked out before it got too painful.