𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒙 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒚.
Charlotte Lancaster grew up as a nobody in her hometown Cherryville, California. Never interested in school gossip or boys. She was always dedic...
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Vincent still hadn't let go of my waist since the stranger decided to step back and walk away, not before giving Vincent one last glare. Vincent turns to me and his eyes are glaring down at me, almost like he is about to scold me. I guess it's the look of fear on my face that stops him from doing so. His eyes soften immediately.
"We're leaving now," he says to Daniel, who just nods. Vincent leads the way and still has his arm around me. If I wasn't so freaked out and half buzzed, I would've been overreacting about the butterflies the touch was giving me.
We get out of the house and I see that Mike was loading some boxes into Vincent's trunk. "I'm going to take her home and then I'll meet you at the house," Vincent says and Daniel nods. Daniel gives me a small smile and says goodbye. Vincent removes his arm from my waist and opens the passenger door for me.
I climb in and he closes the door. He heads to the back of the car and speaks with Mike for a minute before they say their goodbyes. Vincent finally enters the car and we sit in silence for a bit. "I'm sorry," I say quietly, too afraid of speaking louder.
"Don't apologize," he says.
"But—"
"Charlotte," he says, "Please, don't speak right now." He sighs and grips the wheel tightly.
This was the first time that he ever called me by my first name. It felt strange to hear him say it especially when he sounded mad.
I was beginning to feel sober enough to feel the growing pain in my wrist. I wince when I touch the fresh marks that were appearing. The light post next to the car was enough to illuminate the inside of the car to see the shape of the guy's fingers that had imprinted onto my skin.
"Did he do that?" Vincent asks.
I look up at him and he's staring at the fresh bruise with furrowed brows. "Yeah," I say, "He didn't want to let go."
"Do you have to be home soon?" He asks.
"What do you have in mind?" I ask in confusion.
"Just sit there and look pretty," he says and we take off.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Vincent drives us back into town and takes us past the school where the 'bad side' of town was. It wasn't necessarily the worst part of town, it just had rundown abandoned buildings where delinquents liked to hang out. There were barely any light posts and I had to squint my eyes to see where we were. Vincent pulls into the driveway of a junkyard and proceeds to enter the property.
"What are we doing here?" I ask. Was he here to meet someone? Or worse, kill me off because I had annoyed him to the point where he doesn't want to be near me?
"This is where I always came when I ran away from the group home," he says, "The owner would let me crash inside one of the cars." He parks next to the office building and turns the car off. He gets out and looks at me. "Are you coming?"
