Chapter 4- Clashing With The Mystery Bad Boy

“What are you doing?” I hiss at Kohl under my breath. He pretends he didn’t hear me and continues to smile at the group of guys sitting in front of us.

Is he the only one that fails to realize the awkwardness of the situation?

“So, twins huh?” Lucas smiles as he looks from Kohl to me. I guess he’s trying to see the resemblance.

“Yep,” Kohl chirps. He seems a little too happy with this situation if you ask me. Meanwhile, I’m just hoping a hole will open up and swallow me whole or Kohl for that matter.

“I think I’m going to go,” I say slowly as I point in the direction of the doors. I gather my bag and stand up but I’m pulled back down abruptly.

“You can’t leave yet, come on we should get to know each other,” my brother protests. God, would it be so hard if you just make him lose his voice right now? It doesn’t have to be permanent, I’ll settle for temporary voice loss.

“What the hell are you doing? Do you not see that nobody wants to be here?” I seethe in his ear.

“You guys know we can hear you, right?” I jump at the sound of Adrian’s voice. Wow, so he can do more than just brood in a corner. Although, I must say he rocks the mysterious guy persona. I turn to look at him only to find his icy glare, no surprise there.

“Yes, well, we’ve got to go,” I get up once again with no protest from anyone. I drag Kohl by the ear and take my leave.

“Ow, ow, ow, please let go,” Kohl’s cries fill the empty hallways as I lead him towards my sanctuary, the library.

I pull open the door to the musty scented room and throw Kohl in, right now pleasantries are the last thing on my mind.

“Abusive much,” he grumbles under his breath. I give him no answer as I grab a book from a nearby rack and begin to beat him with it. Maybe this will literally knock some knowledge into that thick skull of his.

“Would you stop abusing me?” he screams. The old librarian immediately snaps her head up to glare at him, her features soften as she takes my figure in. I smile sweetly at the old lady seated behind the old desk.

She’s a wise old woman that adds flare to the school with her eccentric ways. Everyone around here has heard of old Mrs. Winston, it’s not every day you see a blue haired woman parade around her love of books. On my lonely days at the school, I love coming here to hear her tell me old stories of her young and rebellious ways back in the day.

I mean I love to hear all about why you can’t remember the sixties. And no, rock n’ roll wasn’t the only reason and that’s all you’re going to get out of me.

“I’m not abusing you. I’m trying to beat some sense into you. I heard the process can be painful but quite effective,” I explain. He just stands there and looks at me as if I told him ACDC can’t rock.

Trust me, never get into an argument with Kohl about who can and can’t rock. The world doesn’t have time for one of his legendary music lectures. I learned that the hard way when we were younger. So did the kid that wore the ‘Ban Rock n’ Roll’ t-shirt to middle school, he was also the one that got sent home with a bloody nose. Yet, the whole crowd swore they didn’t see who did it.

“You need to get out more,” he suddenly states.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know socialize, the process of making friends,” he states slowly. I’m not the one with the low IQ, buddy.

“That’s not relevant right now. What is relevant is the fact that you are complete out of your mind. What was that stunt you pulled in lunch, did the fact I’m trying to stay away from those three completely bypass your brain’s processing of words?”

“Okay, breathe,” he instructs and backs off at the glare he receives in return.

“Haven’t you heard of the saying ‘keep your friends closer, and your enemies closer,’” he responds.

“I don’t like that plan, it has too many flaws,” I deadpan.

“Chill dude and trust me, I know what I’m doing,” he places what I guess should be a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“I better not see them around my house, if I lose Lucy, you’re going to wish you were back in military school,” I threat while shrugging his arm off. With one last threatening glare I leave him standing there and head off to the big desk where Mrs. Winston’s already waiting for me.

“Hello dear, look what just arrived,” she slides a copy of Alfred Lord Tennyson’s collection of poems.

“I knew you’d like it, so I took the liberty to check it out for you, it’s already for you to take,” she states at the beaming smile that I’m sure lights my face up at the gesture. I eagerly grab the book and place it inside my bag.

“Thank you so much,” are the only words I’m allowed to say as the bell rings and I have to rush off to my Art class.

Now don’t go thinking I’m some Art prodigy, because I’m not. I really just took the class because I needed a relaxing one. I really did think people didn’t do much in class. Oh, how I was wrong. Our teacher, Ms. Nelly, pushes us to the core. It’s like boot camp for artists. I know what you’re wondering, why don’t I just drop the class? Well, I actually like her. Past all the screaming and yelling, and the constant hurling of inanimate objects at my head, she’s really not that bad.

The loud chiming of the bed over the speaker system slams me back into reality, harshly. If there’s one thing Ms. Nelly doesn’t like is tardiness. I finally near her classroom at the very end of the arts hall. I take a deep breath before opening the door and heading inside to m possible doom. I sigh in relief as I step further into the classroom and I hear nothing. It’s as silent as a dead forest.

I hastily make my way to the back table where I sit by myself. No surprise there. I hurriedly pull out my chair and slump down in my seat.

“Khloe!” I jump at the loud yell. I knew it was too good to be true. Nothing can go past Ms. Nelly, she literally can see past bullshit, she told me so herself.

“Why are you late?” I can hear her voice from behind. She must’ve been outside, there’s a door in the class that leads to an outside clearing, and we use it for still life drawings or for some paintings to air dry.

“I was in the library,” I murmur. Now, in the scrutiny of around fifteen pairs of eyes, I snap back into the shy little girl. That’s also the weird part, he has a soft spot for me, yet we’re complete opposites. She can literally give you a great painting with her eyes closed where as I have trouble drawing stick figures.  She is really loud and I’m very quiet. I guess you could call our relationship abnormal.

I just realized something. I talk to a lot of adults and not many people my own age. I groan at the thought of Kohl being right, I do need to get out more.

“Well here, you’re all going to be working in pairs on a major project,” she hands me a sheet of paper with instructions on what to do.

“Can I work alone?” I look up into her eyes, hoping that deep down she has a soul and would grant me this one wish.

“No, in fact I already chose your partner,” she states flatly. I should’ve known there was no soul to begin with, yet, you can’t help but love her. She’s an outstanding teacher. She walks off and I look down at my paper, reading over what is expected.

I can’t help but wonder who she’ll pair up with me. Maybe it will be someone somewhat nice and I can make a friend my age for once. I highly doubt it but hope lives eternal.

“Ow, I already told you I hate people. I will not work in pairs with anybody,” I hear a deep voice grumble from behind. Damn, what stuck up his ass? I sure hope he’s not my partner.

“Khloe, meet your partner. I will be checking daily for updates so, you better be doing your work,” she pushes whoever on to me and scurries of to her cluttered desk.

I turn to meet whoever it is. I mean maybe we could get along. We have one thing in common, we obviously don’t socialize much. As I turn, I meet my partners eyes, mine widen in realization. We both groan simultaneously at the thought of being paired together for anything. I think we also have another thing in common, our obvious dislike for one another.

“God, why do I have to work with you,” he grumbles as he takes a seat across from me at the empty table. Guess sitting next to me is way too repulsive.

“Who says I’d want to be partnered with you?” I retort. Oh god, to him I can speak properly to. This is just great, note the sarcasm.

“At least you can do something else but just sit and stare like you’re scared out of your wits,” I’d argue but I have no comeback. He may be somewhat right, though I will not admit that out loud.

“What cat got your tongue?” he taunts with a stupid smirk over taking his stupid face, amusement dancing in his stupid brown eyes. How does he even get his stupid brown hair to look that good? It’s like the perfect tousled look.

I ignore whatever it is he said. I don’t have time for foolishness.

“Aw, am I getting the silent treatment from the little rich brat?” he continues. My knuckles begin to turn white from the tight hold I have on my pencil.

“Ah, look at that, you’re getting angry. You look like a kitten who just came out of water like that,” can’t he ever shut the hell up?

I’m just going to ignore him. I’ll be the bigger and better person.

He begins to tap his pencil obnoxiously on top of my art book. I give him a glare that clearly tells him to stop. He smirks and picks up his pace. What if his head just exploded right now? Just vanishing him from the face of the earth, that’d be a sight I’d want to see.

“Would you stop,” I snap at him.

“Or. What?” he emphasizes each word with another tap of his pencil.

I think my eye twitched when he smirked. I grab the art book from my under his hand and smack it on his head. Don’t follow my example. Violence is almost never the answer.

“Did you just hit me?” he glares at me. Let me tell you something, there’s nothing colder than a glare coming from Adrian Black himself.

“I most certainly did,” I hold my head high to put up a front. Although, I’m shaking on the inside, he’s one scary dude.

“Watch yourself. You’re going to pay for that one. The other guys might think you’re all sweet and innocent with a weirdo as a brother but I know you’re hiding something. You all are and when I find out, well, you’ll see,” he threatens in a low voice. A voice so deep I’m sure he scares little kids for Halloween.

“How do you get your voice like that?” I squeak before I realize what I said.

Seriously, I’m getting threatened by a guy that’s already acquainted with guns and that’s the first thing I ask. Way to go, Khloe. He surprises me by chuckling slightly.

“Perhaps, you are just that naïve,” he states more to himself than to me.

I say nothing in response. I seriously think I peed my pants a little. Yeah, he’s that scary. I did learn one thing.

I think Adrian Black is in the Mafia, the Italian one.

Author's Note:

Hey guys new chapter. And ooh, we had a little more of Adrian, his picture is on the side, he's such a cutie;P Please vote and tell me what you think. I love all of your comments.

Also, if oyu guys like this story, would you mind checking my other one called Running Off with Mr. Bad Boy, it's longer and on the external link on the side.

Summary:

What happens when you're forced to run out of the wedding from hell? Well, you jump on a stranger's motorcycle of course. Ava Summers, a seventeen year old girl that was being forced into an arranged marriage finally has enough and runs out, literally. She runs out of the church and hops onto Ryder Peters' motorcycle. Ryder is a player that just happens to save this damsel in distress and Ava seems to bring out a different side to him, the delinquent one. Will these two get passed their quarrels in their crazy journey or, will they end up killing each other? Will Ryder learn to keep it in his pants and maybe settle down? Follow the journey with this unique pair in Running Off with Mr. Bad Boy....

As you can see, I have a slight obsession with bad boys;D