Stained

Chapter 6

"I'm driving man," Kyron huffs, but I don't miss the underlying hint of embarrassment in his tone.

What he said? What did he say? Was it about me?

Damien pays him no heed, just watches the confused look on my face as he waits for Kyron to say whatever he said.

"Ughh fuck it." Kyron taps his fingers against the steering wheel. " I said instead of having one night stands, it's better to get a girlfriend who you can fuck whenever you want, and if she starts getting too attached or boring, dump her and move onto the next."

Bile rises up my throat as I look at Damien's little dimple popping smirk. Asshole. They're both assholes.

Kenzie feigns a gag. "I feel disgusted to even call you my brother."

Kyron doesn't say anything back to her. Probably because there's nothing he can say to make himself look better. He's disgusting and if I were Kenzie I'd feel the same way.

Unable to look at his self-satisfied expression anymore, I turn my head and look out the window. This. This is one of the reasons why I steer clear of boys. They're insensitive and only care about themselves and their pleasure.

"What, you're not going to call him a jerk?" Damien counters in an impassive tone.

Pursing my lips, I pretend the green grass field we're driving by is the worlds most interesting thing to look at. What was the point of getting Kyron to repeat what he said when I didn't hear him? Because he didn't want to be the only person to be called a jerk. I apologised for gods sake.

When the car finally stops outside the college, I try so hard to quickly get out of the car that I actually end up slowing myself down.

Kenzie doesn't have as much stuff as me on her so she gets out before me.

As I'm shoving my arm into my coat, eager to be out of this car that seems to be suffocating me more and more the longer I stay in it. I move to open the door but it opens before I can even lay a hand on the handle on a fantom wind, making me lurch forward.

A small sound lodges itself in the back of my throat and I close my eyes, mentally preparing myself for the ground but I never feel it. Instead, I feel big strong hands tightly grip my biceps and yank me up into a hard chest.

Despite my erratic heart and the remnants of my fear still dissipating, the touch causes goosebumps to flit across every inch of my skin and the hair at the nape of my neck to rise.

I lean my forehead against a hard chest as I try to calm my racing heart and shaking limbs down.

A hard chest? I slowly peel my eyes open and strain my neck back, only to lock eyes with emerald jewels.

My breathing picks up for a whole other reason than almost cracking my face open on the pavement. I place my palm on Damiens rock hard chest to steady myself, and I think I feel his muscles tense under my touch but its probably my shaking hand playing tricks on me.

Embarrassment courses through me at the realisation of what just happened. I avert my eyes and try to pull myself out of his grasp but my nerves make me stumble a little.

He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me tighter against him. A gasp tumbles out of me from the foreign feeling of being pressed against him... but what scares me is that it's not a bad feeling.