Bad Blood

Chapter 3

:: picture of luke / death ::

Sunday had passed by in a breeze – easy, simple, drama-free. I steered clear of Emma, Dante and my brother, locking myself up in my room. Luke had also seemed to have forgotten me, which was a relief, because him popping up on me once more may have given me a heart attack of some sort.

I had spent the whole entire day working on fan-art, which shouldn’t at all be a surprise. I had completed the portrait of Paul Wesley; a charcoal sketch, now glued up onto my wall along with many others. I was planning to start a new piece of artwork these couple of days, but I had no inspiration whatsoever. I haven’t watched TV in a couple days, which was still a new concept to me. Perhaps I could do something related to Teen wolf and Dylan O’Brien – or do something related to a “ship” like Klaroline.

“Faster!” The sudden eruption of a holler snapped me out of my thoughts, whooshing me back into reality – back to the football field.

A line of boys darted forwards in a synchronized-like manner, swivelling as they reached the line, shocks of brown, blond and black bobbling up and down awkwardly. Out of the group, I caught sight of sleek black on a dot of white beginning to overtake the rest of the team.

Dante.

I knew I sounded like a creeper, since I was watching his practice and practically stalking him, but it wa all for good reason. I had to return the clothes he lent me and find out more about what’s going on between him and my brother. And perhaps apologize, if I felt like it.

After another agonizing hour of watching the boys scrimmage, resulting in them sweating like melting snowmen (especially in those helmets) and turning into specks of red tomatoes, practice was finally over. If it was this painful for me to watch, I don’t even want to begin imagine how it would feel like to be the ones on court.

Sighing, I propped myself off the bleachers, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and grabbing a plastic bag filled with clothes. Catching sight of a retreating dark haired figure, I immediately sped down the stairs, nearly tripping over the last step.

“Stop!” A couple of heads whirled around to give me weird looks, “Wait!” I raised my hand up and started waving it back and forth, “Dante!”

He kept walking with his helmet in his right hand, head down.

I resisted the urge to let out a huge groan, accelerating to chase after him.

“You probably didn’t hear m-” I started to say through pants.

“I heard you alright,” Dante replied coolly, continuing to stroll towards the direction of the school.

“Oh,” I paused awkwardly, “Well...um…” I stuttered, pressing the bag of clothes towards his chest, “Here are the clothes that you… lent me. I washed them,” A cough on my part, “Thank you?”

Dante stole a single glance at the bag before snatching it away with his free hand.

I gulped, attempting to swallow the rapidly growing lump in my throat, “Um...Dante?”

“What?” He snapped.

Not knowing what to say, I decided to take the so-called ‘high road’, “About Saturday, I’m… sorry?” I winced as my apology came out more like a question, “Guess I was a bit too harsh and judging an-”

“A bit?” A harsh bark of a laugh escaped Dante’s lips.

I shuffled uncomfortably, trying to keep up with his large paces, “Well… you get what I mean.”

He finally drew to a stop, causing my shoulder to collide with his.

Twisting his head, he looked straight into my eyes, “You don’t know me Manning, so don’t judge,” his voice was low, but had lost it’s sharp edge, “You’re ignorant and prejudiced. And you think your brother is innocent?” He let out a humorless laugh, “I actually feel sorry for you.”