Leather Kisses

Leather Kisses. 24

The next few days were surprisingly . . . normal. Dean fixed his bike and served his detention sentence quietly. I kept low on the radar and focused on my studies. We both got into the swing of things, and made a regular routine out of our drama-less days.

With all of this carefree time on our hands, Dean and I were able to do stuff together like a normal couple; we had our share of fair snowball fights, snuggled on the couch with a good movie a few times, and even checked out that new Italian restaurant down Parkson Avenue.

For once, everything in my world appeared to be calm and at peace. But of course, it didn't last forever.

One day during lunch, Blake and his posse approached our usual lunch table.

"Lucy, do you mind?" Blake cocked his head at her, urging her to leave. "This doesn't really concern you, now does it."

Lucy clenched her jaw. "What do you want?" she gritted through her teeth.

"Don't worry about it," Blake snapped.

I saw one meathead in the back right corner snicker as he cracked his knuckles. I knew he was just trying to intimidate us -- he wasn't really going to hurt her -- but still, the action was thought provoking enough for me to send her away.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I've got it," I gulped.

She looked hurt . . . even offended that I didn't need her help. It had been more painstakingly clear that since Dean had come into my life, I depended on her less and less.

"Okay . . ." She gathered her belongings, then headed off on her own.

"Finally . . ." Blake flipped his hair, and pointed to her empty seat. "May I?"

"No," Dean snapped firmly, but Blake sat down anyway. His minions crowded behind him, hovering over his broad shoulders.

"What do you want, Blake?" I sneered, slamming my plastic fork down onto the table.

"I'll deal with you later," he snarled, causing a lump to form in the back of my throat. "I first want to have a word with Dean." A wide smirk appeared on his menacing face.

"What? Is this about our fight last week?"

Blake shook his head, and lowered his voice. "You know what this is about . . ."

"Please, do enlighten me," Dean exclaimed, with an overly sarcastic tone.

"Your brother and his little friends fucked up all of our cars!" A chorus of outraged voices joined in. "I don't doubt that you had something to do with this."

"Your issue lies with my brother, not me," Dean spoke calmly. "And that's what happens when people fight fire with fire."

I could see that Dean was trying to fight back a small grin. He may have not been involved or even supported his brother, but he sure was pleased to hear what had come of it.

Blake's face turned a fiery red, as he muttered under his breath and held onto the lunch table with his dear life. It was the only thing holding him back.

"You all are going to suffer for this," Blake spat, as he waved finger at Dean.

"Easy bud . . . look," Dean sighed. "We don't have to make this bigger than it already is."

"Yes we do," Blake sneered, squinting his eyes. "But as you said yourself, this issue rests with your brother, not you. I hardly think it's your place to discuss negotiations."

Dean continuously glared at Blake, and fought his words back. I slipped my left hand under the table, and gave his thigh a comforting squeeze. His tense face lightened up a bit, as he placed his hand on top of mine.