"I don't think you want your whole neighbourhood to see what is going inside the car." Ryan purrs in my ear.
His eyes glow with an evil glint that sends a shiver down my spine as he sneers, "Or do you?"
I panic and look at the source of my fear, whe...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Emara Stone
"Watch where you going, dickhead!" Someone growled.
I glance up at the unforgiving wall, clutching my poor nose.
Oh my Gelato!
My knees wobble like overcooked spaghetti as I watch the main character of my story from close up.
Ryan is towering over me in his six feet height, cloaked up in his toxic masculinity and immorality.
He glares down at me through his black sunglasses like a dark cloud ready to unleash hell.
And then, he slowly pulls off his sunglasses.
I gasp as I see a deep purple bruise blooming under his left eye, and a nasty cut on his lower lip like he has been kissed by a fist.
And then he looks down.
My gaze flicker downwards as well as he lowers his head to a muddy shoe print across his clear white Jordans that you get to look only on famous rapper's instagram page.
Fuckery-Fuck!
I don't even have to check, I know the dirty footprint is mine.
Ryan's head snaps up at me and my soul flinches back at his murderous glare.
With a face that is both aristocratic and brutal, Ryan looks like a notorious wanted mafia boss, who is mentally debating whether to choke me right here or drag me off to some shadowy corner to finish the job.
"Clean it." Two words enough to shake my titties.
I gulp, watching him in absolute fright. What should I do? Apologize? Run? Pretend to faint?
"Dude, didn't you hear? He said clean it." Daniel barks from behind and I realise I am standing in between their group, like a sacrificial lamb in a cult.
That's way too close than I had planned.
Looking at their angry bird faces and steel fists flexing by the sides, there is only one safe option left for me.
I take a deep breath and carefully pull out my foot from my right shoe. Balancing on one foot like a flamingo, I clean the muddy print on his limited edition Jordans.
Ryan and his minions watch me in dubiety as I wipe the dust off his shoes, making them cleaner than before.
"Done." I smile, showing my bright teeth.
My parents are so lucky to have a genius kid like me at their home.
Suddenly, I am grabbed by the collar of my hoodie and yanked up in the air with force.
My feet barely touch the ground as I come abruptly face-to-face with the Hero and Villain of my book.
