Gone with an Angel

Chapter One:

~Years later~

I, Kris Roberts, had gone to get my license. No, I was not overjoyed, as I hadn't been in far too long. I wasn't the slightest bit excited, and I only really needed my license for one thing. Escape.

I was doodling in my notebook, not even paying attention as I zoned out into my thoughts and memories. I was perfectly content, patiently waiting. That was until I heard a high pitched peppy voice dripping with arrogance.

"Hey there," a guy about my age slid into the seat next to me. I felt a pang of annoyance, as I hadn't wanted to talk at all. I am un-gregarious, which should be an obvious fact. I'm not even a fan of people in general. Most of them just cause you pain and more hurt than what's worth. I sat there pestered, taking his appearance in.

He had dark brown hair, swishing straight across his forehead and stopping right above his ears. His gorgeous hair has streaks of natural black intertwined with the brown, making his hair appear the color of a brownie. Or maybe like fresh smooth mud. Although I hated to admit it, he somehow managed to pull it off. He gazed into my piercing ice blue eyes, meeting my glances with his deep, chocolaty brown orbs. The strange boy had perfect peach toned lips set on top of a strong jaw line. His muscles bulged through his pearl white tee-shirt that stopped right above his elbows. He looked strong, firm, and invulnerable. Realizing I was staring, I snapped out of it, trying to be casual and pretend I wasn't just ogling him like a love struck cartoon.

I turned away, glaring and gesturing to the electric blue ear buds lodged into my ears. I even make a point to display them better by gathering my long, curly, blond hair and drawing it away from my petite ears. My music was off, but I heard him just fine. I was lounging in the office where I was expecting my license at the dull DMV. I had nothing to do but stare out of the small windows at the darkening landscape. For a while, I stared at the evening after-work traffic and people bustling around in their busy lives. I shivered as the air conditioning kicked on high again. It was freezing in there, and boiling outside with mid-summer heat. Up until now, I was content being perfectly solitude, pretending to listen to music so no one would bother me. This guy did not get the memo.

"What are you listening to?" He slid closer, gently tapping my arm. I shuddered a bit, remembering.

Maybe if my father never grabbed me, I wouldn't be so scared of people...

Calming down and realizing he wasn't trying to hurt me, I allowed myself to relax the slightest bit. I noticed his hands were surprisingly chill for a day so swelter, and it startled me. Still giving him my unbreakable most spiteful glare, I said nothing. I decided not to grace his question with a response, only giving intense eye contact.

"I'm not in the mood to be hit on at the moment..." I started to tell him, because I thought it would save us both a great deal of time.

I turned my music on then, not wanting to hear another word. I began blasting hard core metal through my ears so I was sure he could hear it, too. I rose out of the seat and sauntered to another chair. He smiled at me then, flashing straight and blindingly white teeth. He raised his eyebrows, like I was just the cutest thing in the world.

If there was one thing guys like him know, it's that they're what everyone is looking at. What if you don't look at guys like him? They just assume you're hard to get. I started to see his lips moving, making a sad attempt to talk to me, and hoping I'll jump at the chance to hear him talk to me. I didn't. I stared down at my paper, sending random words and images sprawled all across the previously blank paper. He was still trying to talk to me. Why did guys do this, perfectly knowing that I didn't want anything to do with him?

"-girl like you." Those were the last words I caught as I cut my music off.

"A girl like what?" I nearly spit the words at him and immediately regret it. Now he thinks I want to know more.