Swept Away

Chapter 2

"Oh, that's cute," Charlotte glanced at the vest I was currently holding.

We were out after school browsing the clearance racks of our favourite stores; something we did together quite frequently.

"Yeah, I can't find the tag though," I murmured, the redirected my attention to my friend, "anyway, continue. You were talking about Frank."

She rolled her eyes, "Ugh, mmhmm. I don't know. Lately we've barely been talking. And honestly I'm asking myself, like, why am I even dating him? He doesn't talk to me for days but then he..."

Frank was Charlotte's on-again-off-again boyfriend since the eighth grade. There was always something with the two of them. As much as I wanted to be the perfect friend and listen wholeheartedly, I had heard variations of the same thing from her about a million times. Personally, I thought the two were just stretching this whole saga out, and that they should agree that they were over. I mean, the relationship was a dead-end.

"So I was mad, you now?"

I offered my nods in the right places and added the thoughtful sounds of acknowledgement.

"Found it!" I exclaimed cutting Charlotte off when I located the price tag. I winced at the lofty price, "Dropping it..."

She rolled her eyes at me, "Were you even listening to me?"

"Of course I was Char. You were complaining that Frank doesn't spend enough time with you anymore but he still has the time to be a completely egotistical, possessive, ass-wipe that goes around all 'Frank smash! Why you talk to my girl?' And yeah."

I shrugged after my monologue and turned to her to see her eyes narrowed dangerously, "He does not."

Nodding as I sifted through the clearance rack I sang, "Yes, my friend, he does. Open your eyes, get over him. There's a bunch of other guys that are so into you."

This was true. Unlike me, Char always had a heard of guys pining away for her; which was understandable. Charlotte was cute, friendly, fiercely caring and petite-- hot in that slim willowy framed modelesque way. All around she was just like-able. Hence the guys always fighting for attention (although she was completely oblivious).

Those things couldn't always be said for yours truly.

We were both quiet for a while before I asked, "Hey, Char, do you know a guy that goes to our school named Zion?"

Her eyebrows creased together as she looked up from the blouse she was eyeing, "Zion who?"

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. How many Zions did she know? Honestly. "Zion, there's probably no other Zion in our school, Zion."

"Hmmm, well I heard of this one Zion who's got all these tattoos and piercings and felonies. He's bad news."

I gave her an are-you-serious look, "Fact, or rumour?"

"Fact," she stated firmly but her eyes told me something else as the broke from mine. "Okay. Maybe rumour, but from what I've heard he's trouble."

Great. Fantastic.

It would be just my luck to tutor some psycho-maniac, axe-murdering, Harley Davidson riding, hottie.

He's probably going to try to kill me with my textbook while we're studying, and then he'll chop me up and mail my body parts to my distant relatives and--

"Kenz... you okay? Why did you ask?"

"Uh, yeah. Yes." I waved a hand dismissively, "He's... he's just this guy I'm suposed to be tutoring. He can't be that bad. Or else he wouldn't be here, right?"