Reverse Psychology

21: Is Blossom home?

What sports are you good at? I neither like sports nor know how to do any.

BUTTERCUP
Butch wasn't pissed that Tuesday as expected from a normal person who got their ass kicked, instead he was on his feet and walking away indifferently after Blossom and Bricks mildly melodramatic scene.

If he couldn't get mad at Blossom, he had me to take his anger out on but he was greeting me with a wide grin and offering me a ride home when he saw me that afternoon.

He had changed from his ruined clothes; an aftermath of Blossom and was sporting his blue basketball shorts and a grey hoodie which he had managed not to get dirty. His leather jacket over the fit was going to be a new trend soon.

He got into the basketball team quicker than usual. Usually, It took a few more practices and practice games and in those practice games, he was to be given a white uniform; blue were for only people who already made the team. He never told me he made the team even though he tried to use me and my assumed special presence for his benefit but I put two and two together when I saw him on Monday with Eli and the rest of the team. He was pretty comfortable which gave me a bad feeling and made me feel a sense of loss. I wondered how much they bonded over the weekend; they always hang out with the newbies on the weekends after their initiation, it was a ritual. My information reservoir is my years of pointless friendship with the basketball. But the six years of friendship went down the drain in the eighth grade when they found out about my powers.

I politely declined his offer actually, more eccentrically, backing away and smiling awkwardly than politely. He keep grinning, being persistent and adducing claims to support his cause as if my rejection perpetuated him. If he was ugly, it would have been harassment but he is hot and it seemed like the ninety nineties where the astonishingly handsome protagonist is trying to convince the heroine to go on a date leaning handsomely on his dangerous looking motorbike. I felt like a main character, but my hero was leaning on a Maserati and was trying to kidnap me and not take me for a long romantic ride. His smile was dubious and made me realize how much more I should feel guilty for snitching.

He stared behind me for so long that I frantically whipped around; scared he had a partner whom was going to throw a bag over my head and tie me or throw a rug dipped in chloroform over my nose. The drug dissolved out of my system pretty quickly but top most, five minutes and it would be out but that's enough time to sell me in the black market. I'm a pretty precarious good buy depending on what I am used for. I make a terrible maid, I taste terrible as a stew, sex is not even an option but I would make an amazing soldier as long as I am fed the nicest stake and finest chips.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" I wanted to ask even while seeming cliché but he beat me to it saying, "You really think I'm stronger than you, don't you? Your hesitance admits to it." He bruised my ego and he knew it. My ego was everything and I was almost tempted to get in his car. Is this what peer pressure feel like?

"You're just a pretty boy, what can you really do?"

"You're right, just a pretty boy." He smirked and nodded to his car, "why don't you hop in then, since you have nothing to be afraid of."

He was threatening me, I could tell from the way he was relaxed, his eyes glistening with mischief and watching me amusingly. I shifted on feet debating on the idea. Factually, what could he really do? Murder me? If I was to get murdered, I would rather it be in a nice car but by anyone but Butch. He had this aura that made me want to strive to be better than him, and he killing me just proves me weak. So it's settled, I ride home with him and kill him if he looks at me.
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"You're really going to let me go without getting what you want from me?" I asked, prompting what was at the tip of his tongue. I stood out his car, door still open, leaning on the hood while he stared up at me almost with confusion.