Meet Aymie.

DMFNP

Aymie's P.O.V

The next week was so uneventful, like you don’t even know. I was so bored it was ridiculous. All I did was study, community service, and go to hel- I mean school.

But you know what was worse? The fact that the ride home with Nathaniel warmed my heart of ice.

We talked about everything, from settling into school, to sports, to neglecting parents. I got to know him under the surface and that made me feel so special. I gave him my number and a hug before I got in, and he said he’d text me.

He didn’t.

And that was 8 days ago. 8 days of checking my phone like a maniac but only getting spam of Dylan and fake friends.

I turned down 3 crazy ass parties just so I could stay by my phone, and it was all for nothing.

As the week went, I got more and more upset until I was full blown pissed off. Like I’m the kinda girl who When I’m hurt, I’ll shut down. I turn into a total sarcastic bitch. I shut off my emotions, and act indifferent towards everything even though it might be killing me inside.

So here I am getting dressed for Dylanté’s Monthly Friday Night Party. Literally he texted me and invited me like this:

“Ryder, I know you’re wild – you’re a tiger for God’s sake. DMFNP this Friday, I’ll give you deets later on, dress sexy I’ll be looking forward to it ;) xo “

Then me, being me, had to ask someone what it meant because there was no way on earth I was gunna ask the guy. He’s already big headed.

Knight is gunna regret every second of the past 8 days.

*********************

 

DYLANTÉ’S P.O.V

Things were going great; the party was full swing, I’d gotten off with about 5 girls, all of them were hot- as usual, and the music was blasting. That’s the privilege of living in the middle of nowhere. But one thing just wouldn’t leave my mind.

Aymie freaking Ryder.

I knew she saw my message, it even said received, it’s whether or not she’s gunna come and make my knees weak or stay at home waiting for that freaking nerd to text her.

I’m not an idiot, I know she likes him bad. Exactly the reason why I sorted the little bitch out to make sure their “opportunities” didn’t freaking blossom.

She’s mine.

If she wants sweet and romantic, I’ll give it to her. But she’s mine.

I poured myself some Jack and took a swig before slamming my cup on the table.