Handcuffed Rivals

23

My dad never yelled at me so I don't know what that feels like but my mum did, and from the looks of it, she made it seem like a minor entertainment compared to what Kings furious composture resembeled like.

If this were a cartoon rather then a real life of poor Bea Cooper, aka me, from his nose there would be smoke coming out like a pollution whenever a train goes on and leaves that ugly, black smog.

"How childish do you have to be to pull this off?" he pointed out the picture in my face, sadly for me there read numbers and numbers I didn't want to know because it made it all the worse.

How many people follow me exactly?

"How childish do you have to be to cut someones tires, huh? It's a thing for a thing and since when did you become so soft?" he locked the phone with his tumb and threw it in my lap.

"You think I'm soft? Huh, is that why you're shaking?" he raised his eyebrow and pulled down the coupler starting the car again. "You said I was losing touch so I've used my imagination."

It probably wasn't the smartest thing I said at the moment but I needed to push his buttons, I needed that anger that he so tried to pull whitin himself.

I felt it in his aura that he wanted to yell, that he wanted to send me to hell and I liked it. I liked how much irritation I brought to his life because then I finally knew that my doings meant something. That indeed I had an effect on the cold asshole and his big-act of behavior.

"Didn't expect anything less Cooper." he gritted and gritted those teeth of his under the mask of limped demeanor. I wanted to break that glass of his. "And I wasn't shaking."

He looked ahead giving his all attention to the road, at final "I wouldn't hurt you."

I ignored it being fully aware of his words and how he indeed always yelled and pulled pranks but never life threatening or changing, so a part of me found me foolish there.

This was my enemy, my rival for years. He did some awful shit but he never caused me harm. Sometimes he would, on the contrary, help me even when he didn't want or knew he did but that's a whole other package.

"You didn't delete it?" I wondered out loud. He parked the car in reverse in front of my house giving me some time to wait for him to answer.

"Why? I'm not a pussy and I plan on doing much worse, so all in all, you digged yourself a deeper grave you ever had before. Your fault really." and yikes, did that sting just above the heart.

I wondered, is there something that he didn't do yet that could beat my prank of today?

I didn't know but I knew he'll think of it for me and it's not gonna be good. Not for me at least.

"Whatever. It was a chance and I took it." I wasn't in a mood anymore to be dealing with him and seeing my house made my stomach tight.

"Do you think your dad's at home?" we got out of the car rather entangled and I had to blink twice to make sure I heard what he was talking about.

My confusion didn't go unnoticed by him and I think he liked it by the lip curving from the far corner of his mouth where that dimple shows every time something good comes up in that brain of his "What?"

"I think I speak pretty loud and coherent." I didn't want to look at his face and searched my keys instead walking towards the entrance door. "I think you shouldn't speak at all because every time you do, rubbish keeps spiling out."

He faked a laugh and pushed the door once I unlocked it "Funny, we'll see how much of your sarcasm will stay for tonight."

"What's with the threats? Is it because of the poopy thing?" he went silent after that probably getting bored of my foul mouth. Mother drank wine in her sofa, turning away with her Elle magazine, skimmed half open "Hi kids! Lunch is in fifteen! Wash your hands and get out of those sweaty clothes."