player ♚ lrh

35 - stalker

"I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"Why didn't you just tell him?"

Cade Barton had a lot of anger. Misplaced anger.

He'd been that way for a while. It wasn't like he was entirely unaware of it, either, just that he chose to ignore that crucial word—the one placed right in front of how he felt; anger. It wasn't the healthiest route, sure, but it was the lonesome path he chose to walk nonetheless.

"I was going to," Cade rolled his eyes. "But that other dude was there. Fuckin' sidekick. He was about to kick me out."

"So? What, you're worried about Ashton, now?"

"Who the fuck is Ashton?"

Macy rolled her eyes, mimicking him. "The sidekick. Can you keep up? I told you this already."

"I really don't give a shit about their names, Mace,"

"Whatever. I'm trying to help,"

Cade rolled his eyes again. His older sister, Macy Barton, wasn't as helpful as she thought. In fact, she'd given him poor advice on one-too-many occasions. And recently, at that.

"You wanna help?" The boy grumbled, flexing his jaw that remained littered with fading, purplish-blue bruises. "You can help by keeping your fucking bitchass boy-toy far away from me,"

"Awe," Macy pouted her lips, mockingly. "Still upset he beat your ass?"

Cade scoffed, grumbling. "No. He's just a prick. Don't know what the fuck you see in him,"

"You wouldn't get it," Macy rolled her eyes. "Why don't you ask your little girlfriend? She sure seems to like him."

There was a bitterness to Macy's words. The tone was subtle, laced with irritation and maybe a hint of disgust, even. She hadn't really meant for it to sound that way, but then again, she didn't care all that much.

She had no interest in Elise. Much like her brother felt toward the blond—the ruggedly handsome fighter of her affections—she just didn't see the appeal. At all. There was nothing more to it.

Macy didn't know the girl and she didn't care to find out much more than what she already heard. It wasn't much; just the odd story or two from her little brother, attached to a faded, somewhat deluded memory. She'd never say that to him, though, for the girl was clearly a soft spot and it would pass right through his ears anyways—completely unheard, and utterly ignored.

Beyond that; Macy didn't really care. Elise was merely a bump in the road, an object blocking her way. Simple as that.

That said, what she did care about was the stubborn fighter that always seemed to be attached to the girl's hip.

It annoyed her; she had to admit. When she'd heard the boy had returned, she hadn't at all been pleased to find him already sneaking around with some new girl—and only her, at that. She would've much rather seen him back up to his old ways, with a different girl hanging off his side each night and perhaps a cut or two on his knuckles that he ignored—anything but holding hands with the same girl, (who was not his usual type; might she add), as if they were in some type of relationship.

Macy nearly laughed to herself. She knew Luke—presumably better than his newest plaything—and he didn't do relationships. He had no interest in girlfriends, and she didn't blame him. In fact, she always liked that about Luke. It's part of what drew her to him in the first place.