Kidnap My Heart // greyson chance. (( E D I T I N G ))

Chapter 3

| | C H A P T E R T H R E E : H E L O O K S S O B R O K E N | |

Trevor snickered, "You become such a girl around Dylan, sis."

I frowned, "Shut up, Trevor. Oh and technically, I am a girl." Greyson scoffed at that last part and I turned my attention towards him. "You have something to say about that, Butch?" I raised my brow. He tried to regain his composure. Oh and by the way, it wasn't working.

"Aren't girls supposed to have.. you know" he glanced at my chest and laughed. Trevor high-fived him and for a second, I was left confused. But then the suggestion dawned horribly on me. I glared at him and smacked the back of his head. He groaned, "What was that for?"

"For being an asshole," I gritted my teeth.

"Curse me for being truthful and stating that you do not possess a roll of fat but rather a table," he said, trying to be suave.

"That was beautiful," Trevor wiped a fake tear.

I smacked him again, harder, "You little shit." Greyson rolled his eyes, "Oh please. Between you and me, who's the little one?" If this guy gets any more sarcastic, I swear every vein in my body system will pop and splatter each and every one of you with my blood. I knew I was er.. vertically challenged compared to most people, but he didn't have to rub it in my face. I stood roughly at about 5 feet 2, and Greyson was like 7 inches taller than me. "Freako giant," I muttered.

He grinned, "At least I can literally look down on you. In your case, you'd have to look up at me." Before I could respond and/or kick his face, a high pitched voice called my brother's name. A petite girl came running towards us and I glanced at a panicked Trevor. He literally looked as if he wanted to make a run for it. She stopped and tried to catch her breath.

"Hi Trev," she smiled and batted her eyelashes. I may not be an expert at the art of flirting nor did I have any knowledge about it, but I did understand that this girl fancied my brother. What I didn't understand was the look on his face. It was a mixture of desparation to leave and panic, covered by a thin layer of faked happiness. This girl was gorgeous, truth be told. She had pale skin and her dark brown hair was braided on her shoulder. She wore dark jeans and a turquoise blouse that seemed to flow, paired with brown boots. If I were Trevor, I'd be going nuts over her.

She showed prominent dimples on her chin as she grinned, "Let's go to class together, Trevie Wevie." I held back a laugh at that nickname. She laced her fingers around his and Trevor glanced at me and mouthed: Help. I raised my brow and mouthed back: You'll be fine. His eyes shone with horror. "You alright, pumpkin?" the girl asked Trevor. "Uh. Fine, Cree- I mean, Cassie."

Cassie. That was a cute name too. When they disappeared from sight, it then only dawned on me that I was left alone with Sir Sass-A-Lot, who was staying oddly quiet. "Butch," I called. He looked at me with those tinted hazel eyes, but the usual cheeky glint in them had vanished. He looked shattered and broken to pieces, he looked so helpless that I had the urge to wrap him in my arms and tell him it was alright. Though, he hid that sadness so quickly that I almost questioned myself whether it was real or just a mere illusion. "You know her?" he asked. I answered no and he just nodded to drop the topic, but I could feel his anxiety to get to know her. It was no surprise. As I said, she was pretty.

"What are we still standing here for? Don't we have class to attend to, oh dear classmate?" He said that last part just to annoy me, I am sure. Did I say a moment ago that I wanted to hug him? I take that back. Let this kid rot. It was probably just a trick of the eye, anyway. This kid was plain rotten, and that was that. I couldn't imagine him being helpless. Oh please, there are more chances of me actually talking to Dylan than him having a side like that.

Class 2-B. I peeked inside and found my heart beating at an alarming rate. The teacher was already inside. I pushed the door open. Having about thirty pairs of eyes staring at me, I just wanted to crawl in a hole. I don't really like attention, you see. I'd rather be unnoticed in a dark corner than be in the spotlight. "Well?" the teacher, Ms. Lacres, crossed her arms. My face beaded with sweat. "Time didn't notice I the," I stammered. Ms. Lacres raised her brow in confusion, "What?"

To my relief, Greyson stepped inside. "She was just showing me around, Miss. We didn't notice the time," he said, smiling. I had to admit, he actually looked angelic if he always looked like that. His smile seemed to have an effect though. It made every girl in the room swoon, including Ms. Lacres which I had to admit was a bit creepy. "I'm guessing you are the new student? Mr. Chance, is it?" she smiled widely. There was a green leafy object that stuck in between her teeth. Well that was disgusting. And for her, quite embarassing. Considering the Greyson I knew, he probably would've laughed and made nasty comments about that but shockingly, he ignored it.

He nodded, "Yes, Miss."

"Well, sweetie, you can go ahead and take a seat anywhere you like." She glared at me for a second then proceeded writing on the whiteboard. I sat on my chair. It was far from the front, but not too far so I would hear the lectures. It was also right next to the window so I could daze away from time to time. Also, during Dylan's P.E., I could watch his lovely chestnut hair fly in the wind as he runs and plays soccer.

"Stop daydreaming, midget."

"Why the hell are you sitting beside me?" I exclaimed. "Well," he pushed his hair back with his fingers and positioned himself comfortably on the cushioned chair, "for starters, this is one of the few that seems vacant. Secondly, those girls are creeping me out. I know I'm irresistible but the way they're checking me out makes me want to vomit." I rolled my eyes, "Oh please, you're probably enjoying this."

"Any guy would, to be honest," he answered, "but they're not my type, so I prefer to be at a distance." The little idea his comment made seemed to dawn on him so he added, "You're not my type either. Don't get your hopes up." I scoffed, "My hopes are in no way going up, Butch, though I do know your type."

"What?"

I wiggled my eyebrows, "Oh. Maybe girls like, I don't know, Cassie?" The mention of her name seemed to have a momentary effect. The shattered look crept back on him but in the blink of an eye, it was gone. It was only then that I'd proven that it was not just a mere illusion. "I don't know," he answered and turned his attention to the lecture. His body language gave an evident meaning: We will not speak of this.

I'm pretty sure that he'd only met her a while ago, so I began to wonder why. Why does he become so miserable when she's around?

Cassie, I wonder how you managed to shatter the oh so proud Butch into pieces in only minutes.