I.N.K. Service

I.N.K. Service

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WpMetadataReadOngoing20m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Jul 16, 2016
I gasp as I round the corner. I almost slam into a tall, suited torso. I look up and the scarred face stares back at me, blue eyes electric, brows furrowed, jaw clenched with menace. My first reaction is to pull a hit and run, but I then realize that it would land me being either punched in the face or pinned against the wall, or maybe worse. I start to back up, but the space I create between us is closed immediately. I start panicking like a wild rabbit about to be torn apart by a fox. I want to bound away from him but my legs are frozen. I want to push him over and have him tumble down the stairs but my arms are frozen. Suddenly, my bare shoulder blades hit the rough drywall behind me. Various curse words float through my head as I frantically search for a solution. None come until I try to kick between his legs on a whim. He saw it coming from a mile away and before I could even move, stepped on my foot. I hold back a squeal. It takes all my strength not to let out a startled yelp. He takes a long breath. "Are you," he starts in a gruff, fearsome voice, "Miss Melonie Terrace?" My brain freezes. I don't know, am I Miss Melonie Terrace? Yes, wait yes I am. I nod vigorously, eyes wide with fear and confusion. He takes his giant shoe of my tiny foot and pulls a card from his pocket and shoves it into my hand. And just like that, he disappears back up the stairs. I stand against the wall, shell shocked for a moment. The gears in my head start working. How did he know my name? Why did he want to see me? How did he know I was here? I gulp loudly compared to the silence around me. I feel the card between my fingers and lift the cream-colored paper to my face. It reads, Miss Melonie Terrace LaCriox; Restaurant 8'o clock, Sep. 5th
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"What do you want?" I snap, slamming my locker shut. His casual smirk, messy dark hair, tan skin, strong arms, eerie storm-grey eyes... the list could go on of things I notice- that I shouldn't notice- about him. "Oh, I want a lot of things." He inspects a speck of dirt on his arm. "I'm sure you've heard the news?" His eyes flicker back up to meet mine. Does he know? No. He can't. So I roll my eyes. He can't know that I know, that I would do anything to be the first one he tells. "You'll have to be more specific." I mutter, trying to look casual as I inspect my nails. "Well, it involves a certain title of the swim team," He offers. I shrug. "So you got captain. That's cool. And what do I have to do with that?" He narrows his eyes, trying to read my expression. Unfortunately for him, I have mastered the art of hiding my emotions. "This is what I wanted to talk to you about. During English," He fiddles with his sweater sleeve. "I recall you trying to talk to me," I frown. "Well, I..." He swallows, seeming... nervous? "I'm not doing too great... subject wise. And if I don't pick up my ass soon, I might be forced to quit." He rubbed the back of his neck, making his shirtsleeve slide up his arm to reveal a strong bicep. Not that I notice. I narrow my eyes. "And what do I get back in return?" I cross my arms. I'm going to be late for the bus if we don't hurry. He studies my face. "Name your price." He mirrored my position. I sigh. Money... but I don't need it. Popularity... but I don't want it. I meet his gaze steadily. He lifts his chin, the tiniest bit, but it doesn't intimidate me. I square my shoulders and stand up straight. He's only just taller than me. "Stop pretending to be perfect." All rights reserved. Cover art by me :) but will probably be redone soon

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