Belonging to the Bad Boy

Chapter 19

"I'm still so sorry," Damon continues to apologise, stepping to whichever side I was facing, his eyes frantically trying to catch mine.

I groan, rubbing my eyes roughly. "It's nine in the morning Damon, please stop," I grumble, annoyed as I had already accepted his apology after listening to his horrible, broken up story of a night he could barely remember.

"I just feel awful showing up like that," he whines, stomping his feet like a child when I continued to ignore him.

"Apologise to someone else then," I groan, turning to look at him with tired eyes. Monday mornings are awful, but I hadn't slept for most of the weekend. It was no ones fault but my own. After the nap on Saturday and being rudely awoken, I stayed up from then until 3am this morning. Damon his still pouting, kicking the ground with the toes of his shoes.

He nods, and I start to think that he's going to give up. I nod also, finally feeling relieved that he had stopped. I begin to close my locker. "Although," Damon interrupts. I turn to look at him angrily, slamming my locker door shut but forgetting my hand was still around the edge.

A loud yell fills the hall and most people turn to look at me. My locker door swings open as I grab my hand, sucking in a deep, sharp breath before groaning loudly again. "What ha-" Ranger had reached us now, eyes wide as he stared at my hand with George next to him. "What the hell?" HE bellows, immediately reaching forward to hold me.

"I, I mean, she," Damon stammers, his eyes wide and face filled with worry and guilt. "She slammed her hand in the locker door," he finally manages, his hands wild as he was explaining what I had done.

My fingers right above my knuckles had turned purple almost immediately, throbbing so much that I was convinced it was visible. "Right after your hand had almost healed," Ranger jokes, trying to lighten the mood. I scowl deeply at him, my face bright red as I try and calm my breathing. "Yeah, okay, no jokes," he nods frantically.

"I think you should go to the hospital," George suggests, gently glancing over my hand. I furiously shake my head, detesting hospitals and downright refusing to go. "I don't think it's a choice right now. Your dad would kill us if he found out we let you stay here," George reasons, shrugging his shoulders as Damon agrees.

"That settles it then, let's go," Ranger begins to drag me against my will.

I send the meanest glare possible over my shoulder at Damon, growling out, "I'm going to kill you." His eyes almost pop out of his head and he sends a sheepish wave my way as I disappear through the large, steel front doors of the school and towards Ranger's motorcycle. "What about mine?" I ask, my voice hoarse from the straining and trying to hold my tears back.

He laughs at me, rolling his eyes as he places my helmet over my head. "We'll come back for it. I'm more concerned about you, not your bike."

-_-_-_-

"I'm so sorry." Déjà vu. I look at him, the frown set solid on my face.

"I told you I was tired yet you kept yapping," I snap, glaring at my best friend. My hand was wrapped, feeling nearly entirely numb. Nothing was broken but I had severely bruised my hand and the muscles below it, with a deep gash running through each finger.

"I'm sorry," Damon repeats.

Ranger sat next to me on the sofa with his feet kicked up on the coffee table and an arm securely around my waist. My dad said he would pick my bike up on his way home from work so Ranger was happy that we got to come straight home. "Don't be so hard on him," he whispers in my ear, gently squeezing my waist.

I grumble profanities under my breath. "I forgive you, but I'm still mad," I finally say, looking up at Damon. He looks at me hopefully, and I couldn't stay mad at him any longer. "Come here," I gesture my arm up and open, waving my hand towards me. Damon practically flies forward, knocking me a little as he makes contact, hugging me so hard I could barely breathe.