Changed {Martin Garrix Fanfiction}

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine - 'Innocence' 

- Madeline's POV - 

As I finished up my breakfast, I remembered that I needed to give Martin his shirt back. I noticed him getting up, so I decided now was a good time. I grabbed my plate and stood up. 

"I'll see you guys around," I smiled at them and they all said their goodbyes. I tried my best to not look over where Karlie and her 'crew' were sitting. I do not need another accident like that happening again. Outside, the sun was shining dimmer than normal. I soon spotted him, and began to jog towards him. 

"Martin!" He stopped and turned around, smiling a bit. Once I reached him, he grabbed my arms balancing me. 

"Hey, shit slow down," he slowly laughed looking at me. 

"Thanks, for the shirt again," I handed him the black material that I had neatly folded for him. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but suddenly, we tumbled to the ground. Oh my god, he was under me while I was on top of him. On top of him! My face started to heat up like hell once he started to chuckle beneath me. I looked around then trying to get up, but he stopped me. 

"Wait," he grabbed my arm. I shifted along his waist, stopping when I felt something. I swallowed nervously, realizing what that 'something' was. I was mortified beginning to think about what my parents would say. 

"What?" I looked down at my hands, not being able to look him in the eyes. 

"Bikers here are rude as hell, more fucking rude than Amsterdam," he was right. First me getting knocked down and now this. I tried laughing thinking to myself that it would be less awkward, but it was not working. My body was tensing up. 

"You've never done this before?" He licked his lips seeming quite amused. I was confused about what he was asking but then it dawned on me. "I figured." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" My fist scrunched up his shirt. He shrugged his shoulders in the ground. 

"You're just so innocent, that's all," I did not have anything to say to that because frankly, it was true. I was a preachers daughter from a town with only ten thousand people in the population. And here beneath me is a guy from Amsterdam, a city with almost eight-hundred thousand people, sex and drugs dripping from everywhere. I was a two year old compared to him. 

"I'd better go," I started to get up again but he stopped me once more. "Martinnn," I dragged out, feeling more uncomfortable than ever. 

"You didn't listen to me," his accent sounded very prominent. Wait, what was I supposed to do? His arm reached up behind my neck, the gentle touch sent chills down my body. In one movement, my hair was down and around my shoulders, The brown locks were longer than I remembered.