Belonging to the Bad Boy

Chapter 12

I found myself stumbling slightly when I left Flynn to find a bathroom. I had drank more than I was anticipating and it was beginning to hit me hard. I was not too drunk to know what was going on, but I was sure my speech was slurring and I was stumbling as I walked. I could not find Damon anywhere, and I was ready to go home and sleep. I make my way to the stairs and begin to ascend, feeling strange as I look down at the party through the glass railings.

Despite struggling to carry myself around, I had found a bathroom and locked the door for me, slumping onto the toilet and once again feeling steady now that I was off my feet. I reminisced on what had happened tonight and I couldn't help but let out a goofy grin.

I finish up and wash my hands, looking at myself in the mirror. All things considering, I didn't think I looked that bad. My hair had began to wave over again and my eyes were drooping but other than that I still felt I looked good. I straighten my skirt out, turning from side to side to look at my outfit again. I had to give it to Damon, he chose a good outfit.

I unlock the bathroom door and begin to make my way down the hallway when I notice a door cracked open. I slow my pace and glance in, grimacing when I see Damon and Lyndsey making out on a bed, half undressed. I scrunch my nose and pull the door closed, realising I was not going home anytime soon. I make my way back to the kitchen, grabbing a clean solo cup and making myself a glass of water with some ice.

As I'm sipping on my water, hoping to sober up slightly knowing if I got more drunk I would pass out in this house, I hear a commotion outside. I roll my eyes and ignore it, until I hear Flynn's voice over the sound of the growing crowd. I toss my cup into the sink and make my way back outside, pushing half pushing people out of the way to get to the centre of the circle. 

"Dude, this is my house, get the fuck out," I hear Flynn demand. I begin to wonder what is happening. It didn't sound like there had been a physical fight yet, and I assumed that's why the surrounding crowd was not very large. "I don't care what you think, it's none of your business." My curiosity peaked as I got closer and eventually I found myself stood in front of two boys.

Both turned to look at me as I stumbled forwards, both looking at me sheepishly, one seeming apologetic, while the other harboured some anger. "Are you okay?" I asked, taking a step forward.

"Yes," both replied, before looking back at each other with hatred and frustration. I stare, dumbfounded. 

I turn my head to look at Flynn. "Are you okay?" I repeat and his face softens, nodding silently. I nod back and sigh. I turn to look at Ranger. "Are-" I attempt to ask the question again, but he cuts me off.

"Don't bother," he growls before storming off, pushing through the crowd to escape the sight of everyone. Following Ranger's departure, the crowd quickly dispersed and everyone went back to partying as they were before.

I walk towards Flynn, looking up at him as I got closer. My previous beliefs were proven untrue as I saw a small cut and a large red mark on Flynn's cheekbone. "Oh, gosh, are you okay?" I ask once again, raising my hand to touch his cheek.

He sighs, smiling softly at me. "Of course, it's nothing I haven't had before." I frown at him, showing my disapproval. "I think you should talk to Ranger though. Seems pissed to see you with me."

"Wait, what?" I ask, confusion taking over.

Flynn sits down on the sun lounger again, looking up at me. "Yeah, I think we should just hang as friends in a group until you clear things up with him." I tilt my head, staring down at him.

"You're being serious?" He nods in response. "There's nothing there." Flynn raises his eyebrows quizzically. 

"Not from what I saw tonight." I feel anger boil inside me at his words.

"Okay, so I'm going to speak to him. Will you be alright?" I ask, wiping the small amount of blood off of his cheek with my thumb. He chuckles, pulling away slightly and nodding. I sigh sadly, nodding back before making my way through the house. I had to find Ranger, find out what was going on.

He was no where to be found inside the house. I searched all three floors and the back garden. I make my way to the front garden, about to admit defeat when I see that there were people there too. I began wandering the lawn, having to approach everyone as it was dark and impossible to tell who was who from afar.

I approach a group of guys at the end of the driveway. There were hanging around, all five of them smoking cigarettes as the spoke. "Hey, guys," I called as I approached. They all stop and turn to look at me. "Have any of you seen..." I trail off once about three feet away, not seeing Ranger there and so stopping. "Ranger?" I finish my question, looking at them wearily as they all had their eyes tightly trained on me.

"No, but I'm Dean," one of the guys spoke, stepping away from the group and towards me. His friends closed the gap in the group where he once stood, simply watching. "And who are you?" As he got closer I could smell the alcohol and cigarettes mingled on his breath, causing me to cough.

"Uhm, I. I'm just going to leave," I mumble, trying to turn and escape. Dean had grabbed my hand and pulled me back, far too close for comfort. His awful smell penetrated my nostrils and made me feel sick.

He smirked at me, obviously far too drunk to care about anything. "No, you just got here, stay with us," he slurred as he gestured to his friends.

I scoff, trying to remain brave. "No thanks," I retort, ripping my arm from his grip. His smile dropped into an evil glare, his frown overpowering his face.

"I think you should," he grumbled, trying to grab my hand again. I pulled back faster than he could react, glad I was not as drunk as he was. "Come have fun with us," he said, trying to sound pleasant and inviting, yet it came out demanding and malicious.

I punch him square in the jaw, feeling disgusted. It didn't seem to be the best idea when he stood up straight again, his lip bleeding from the impact. He snarled loudly and launched himself, wrapping an arm around my waist and beginning to drag me away. I noticed his friends had all walked over to a black car with tinted windows, and we also began to head that way.

I began to kick and punch as hard as I could, but nothing I did seemed to deter him. Suddenly I fell to the floor, my knees and hands catching me on the gravel. I hissed in pain before jumping back as the guy called Dean was thrown on the floor next to me. 

"When you're told no, it means no," a low voice growled. The anger scared me and a shiver ran down my spine. My heart was beating a million miles an hour and almost stopped when, for the second time, an arm wrapped itself around my waist and began to pick me up.

Adrenaline started to kick in again as I began kicking and punching again. "Stop," the voice growled, and, as if a robot, I slowed down instantly. Through the smell of cigarettes I could smell the familiarity of mint. "It's okay," his voice spoke again, and I began to melt.

Soon we were down the street and I had been placed onto a motorcycle. He knelt down in front of me, inspecting me. "Ranger," I mumble, the adrenaline wearing off. I felt tired again, and my sobriety was beginning to slip away.

"We're leaving," is all that he said before placing a helmet onto my head, just like the first time he took me. He climbed onto the bike and started it up, pulling my arms to wrap around his waist. I gave in, resting against his back and holding on tight to his leather jacket, allowing everything to sink in. I had no idea where we were going, but I just wanted to leave this place.