Bad Boy by Night

♱ Chapter 02 ♱

𝓟𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓻
𝟶𝟸: 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝙲𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎

The first text was sent the day after my release after being arrested for assault.

I think you could use my help. –NAMELESS

By that point, the box was still missing and each item that had been sealed inside the box failed to return into my possession, including the diary which didn't belong to me anyway. Despite my incessant responses to the unknown number and ambiguous text questioning who the fuck was texting me and disguising themselves behind the alias of "NAMELESS", I didn't receive a response. That was until I bit the bullet and texted them by clarifying what type of assistance I was in need of. The response was swift, though it was in lieu of directly answering my question.

You need my help because I have the box. –NAMELESS

Porter: Do you work for Samuel?

I never received a response.

For two weeks NAMELESS went cold turkey on me. The box was still fucking missing and my assault had been broadcasted shamefully on the news, shunning me to The Woods and having to fork out my savings for a small apartment and a new motorbike. Startlingly, my parents were still paying for my college tuition. But we'd had no contact since I was released from the dropped charges and they demanded I pack up my things and leave pronto, going as far to threaten timing me so I was in and out hastily.

My parents and I made a deal when we were planning my college avenue back when I was a senior in Grovesville High. I expressed my opinion to want to purchase a small apartment or something like that rather than to live in a dorm and have to share with someone. They told me I could continue to live at home with them if I found a job (I did but not the job they believed I had) and I could save up to purchase my own apartment. My dad and I shook hands, an action too formal and business-like for a father and son.

Who could predict that I would have to move out sooner than I anticipated? Not me. That was for certain.

"You're making me nervous, dude," Brody declared, gesturing to my bouncing knee. "And you never get nervous, Porter. What are you worried about?"

We were in Brody Butler's dorm room which just happened to be akin to a suite rather than a standard college dorm. His parents, blinded by Brody's good guy façade, had forked out a shit ton for a suite like this while he was in college studying criminal justice which was fucking ironic if you asked me considering we were all disguised bad boys.

Except me.

My bad boy status had been flaunted since my scandalous arrest. Honestly, I was relieved to finally act like myself around people, though I still had to maintain some sort of "golden boy" behaviour during college because the last thing I desired was to be kicked out of there as well considering all the effort I'd endured to be able to enrol. And get decent fucking grades in my classes.

Brody was styling his hair as I removed my black baseball cap which displayed a small rose that had been sewn into the material and replaced it back on my head backwards, the bill covering my neck. He glanced at me and raised his eyebrows at my mannerism as if to say spill it, I know something's bothering you. He was my best friend, after all.

"Nothing," I lied, the message from NAMELESS still distinct in my mind. "I just don't feel like seeing Verity tonight. You know how she acts, man."

I already had a constant reminder of her when she wasn't around me, and I don't mean in a conventional way.

Brody whistled lowly, consistently amused by news of Verity and I as Chad Watson emerged from the bathroom and joined us in the hallway near the door. Brody had a mirror placed aptly in his threshold so he could always check his appearance just before he left his suite. Vain, yes, but that summed up Brody pretty well. He was a lethal addition in our group, however. He might not be a technical genius like Chad was, but he had a knack for quick getaways and formulating plans in the heat of the moment, working immensely well under pressure and stressful moments where most people would lose their minds.