Belonging to the Bad Boy

Chapter 18

I sit on my couch, the TV on quietly playing re-runs of Boy Meets World as I relieve my childhood with the show. I adored it growing up, and now that I'm older I understand and appreciate some of the issues that the show covered, giving it more depth now that before.

It's around 4pm and my dad is getting ready to leave to pick Jemma up for their date. He has a light blue, checked shirt on with light-wash jeans and a pair of brown boots. "You look nice, Dad," I say, chuckling as he continues to look at himself, straightening his shirt and fixing his hair.

"Are you sure?" He asks, his voice projecting the uncertainty. I smile warmly, standing up to meet him at the mirror in the corridor.

"You'll knock her off her feet," I comment, grinning widely at him as he relaxes and smiles. I stand next to him, looking at both of us in the mirror and I unconsciously play with the small, diamond pendent around my neck.

He hugs me sideways, smiling sadly. "I miss her too," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. I see sadness pass over his face and embed itself into his eyes.

"You know she'd want you to be happy," I mumble, rubbing my dads arm as he nods with a sad smile. I step in front of him, adjusting his collar. "So go and have a wonderful night. If you're not home before midnight then be safe and don't do anything stupid."

We both laugh and he rolls his eyes at me, giving me a large hug. "I love you," he hums, and I can sense the smile on his face, his words flowing happily.

"I love you too," I say back as he lets go and grabs his keys, giving one last wave before leaving me alone. I sigh, heading back to the sofa with my mother on my mind. It had been five years since I'd last seen her, before she was gone forever.

I shake the thoughts from my head, not ready to think about her tonight, not sure I'll be able to cope alone with her on my mind. I lay down, snuggling into a blanket as my eyes train back onto the TV, a new episode of Boy Meets World.

My eyes felt heavy and I tried to fight the sleep begging to over come me, but ultimately I lost. It wasn't a heavy sleep, my eyes glued closed but my ears still perked and listening to the quiet noise coming from the TV.

It felt like five minutes had passed when I was jolted awake, a loud thumping on the front door, continuous and without pause. I groan, rubbing my eyes only for the knocking to get faster and louder when I don't answer immediately.

"Dad, if that's you because you've had more than two beers I'm going to kill you!" I holler as I make my way to the door, the blanket once laid on top of me now draped around my shoulders.

I swing the door open, ready to scald my dad for having more than he could handle, but I'm shocked to find Ranger holding a semi-conscious Damon on his arm, Flynn and George stood sheepishly behind. "Oh," is all I can manage.

I step aside, letting all four walk in. Ranger carries Damon into my lounge, dropping him onto the sofa. I then see the dried blood on his face and frown deeply. I close the door behind Flynn and George and rush over to him.

Taking his head in both hands I kneel in front of him, lifting his head so I can better see him. "Alex?" He hums once he sees me, a small smile gracing his dried lips. "I missed you," he slurs, reaching forwards to try and hug me. I hold him back, frowning at him.

"What happened?" I ask, and all I get in response is a small giggle and a hiccup.

I stand, motioning for Flynn and George to make sure he doesn't fall off the sofa or fall asleep. I hear them begin to talk to him and hear the slight slur in their voices too as I walk to the kitchen, looking for the first aid kit.

"He got very drunk and kissed a girl. Turns out, she had a boyfriend," Ranger informs me, walking in behind me. His voice was calm and low, but cold with a hint of boredom.

I nod, not looking at him as I dig through the cupboards until I find the kit. "Thanks for bringing him here," I mumble, walking back into the lounge. All three boys are giggling and leaning on each other on the sofa. "Look at me," I demand, taking an alcohol wipe and brushing the bloody off of Damon's face. I gently inspect his nose and decide that if it is broken then he's lucky that it should heal normally. It isn't wonky, it doesn't hurt him - I'm unsure if this is from the alcohol or not - and it doesn't move weirdly.

I hear a honk outside and huff, wondering who that was now. "Oh, the taxi is here!" Flynn exclaims as he climbs to his feet. George caught him as he began to stumble, and I come to the conclusion he's the most sober of the three.

"Thanks, Alex," George mumbles, lifting Damon off of the sofa.

"You're leaving?"

"We didn't want to bother you. Ranger forced us to come here," Flynn grumbles, booing Ranger.

"I'll text you when were all home safe and if you're awake I'll call and explain what happened," George tells me, supporting Damon with his left arm as his right hand rubs my arm in appreciation. I simply nod and watch them pile out.

I'm going over the events of the past five minutes in my head, trying to understand the whirlwind of what just happened. "Where's your mind at?" I hear a voice and jump in place.

"You're still here?" I almost shout, holding my hand to my heart in a futile attempt to slow it.

"I drove here," he shrugged, leaning against the kitchen island. I nod, chewing my lip. "Stop that," he says, his voice low and gentle. I knew he meant me chewing my lip and I stop instantly. He grins, obviously enjoying that I immediately obeyed.

"Why weren't you drinking?" I ask, and as I round the island to meet him I see the blood on his knuckles, most of it dry but a slight shine reflecting from the light showing he was still bleeding. I grabbed the first aid off of the sofa and took it to the kitchen.

I grab a couple of wipes and take his hand in mine, almost the same as the way he took mine when he helped me. "Your idiots for friends invited me and hadn't decided on a designated driver, so, being the idiot I am, I volunteered to try and get on their good side." He tried to explain the situation, but every wipe of his knuckles caused a hiss or a growl.

"For someone who throws such hard punches, you sure can't take a tiny bit of cleaning," I tease, smirking up at him.

He rolls his eyes at me, taking a deep breath in as the alcohol seeped into one of the still open wounds. "Well he deserved it. It takes a dick to beat on such a drunk kid."

I smile softly to myself, realising he'd given back to the guy that hurt Damon. "Well, if you weren't in their good books before now, you've definitely earned some brownie points and well on your way to being in there."

He chuckles, wincing loudly as I pressed a little hard. "Careful, Ally," he growls, yet his free hand reaches out and grabs my hip, holding on tight as I continue to clean his hands up. I squealed a little in surprise, but kept cleaning.

"Careful, Ranger," I mock, raising a playful eyebrow at him. He grins down at me, loosening his grip to hold my hip gently but pointedly. "Thank you," I hum, putting the last alcohol wipe down. I go to release his hand, but he holds on.

"How do you do it? Being cheerful so often?" I laugh at his question, shrugging.

"I'm not, they are," I tell truthfully, looking into his eyes. "You anger me more than anyone though, don't worry," I tease, winking playfully.

He lets out a chuckle. It was a low rumble, his chest reverberating as the noise escaped him. It wasn't menacing or evil, it was genuine. "Good."