Misfits (#2)

12.

And when she tilts her head back to the sky, she looks beautiful. Rain pelts down her face and slides down her skin and she revels in it. Her chest heaves and she keeps her eyes pinched shut.

She's undecipherable. There's a part of her that looks like she wants to rain to make her slip away. That she drowns amongst it but even then, as the cold rain hits her, her lips curve upwards.

"Couldn't stay away?"

I smile a little too. She hasn't looked back to see me but she knows I'm here. The rain's loud and thunder grumbles in the distance so we have to speak louder over it.

"I stayed away pretty well." I say from behind her. She runs a hand through her slick hair and I try, desperately, to not focus on how attractive she is without even knowing it.

I step forwards until I'm beside her. With her head tilted back, she turns and looks at me. I smile because she's squinting, trying to blink away the rain coming down on her faster. It's cold and enlivening.

Fucking beautiful. Something out of a daydream.

Rogue strands of hair stick to her face so I help her out, cupping her jaw and brushing them away. Her shoulders tense but she doesn't push me away. Instead, she starts bouncing from the heels of her feet on the tips of her toes. Like she's gearing up for something.

I narrow my eyes, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." She gets more restless and I take in her smile.

"You're up to something, Violet Fawn." I say down to her, partially shielding her from the rain with my height.

She looks antsy in her own skin, desperate to just get it out. Whatever's boiling inside her. She bounces and looks up to me with this sort of smile that's mischievous and curious and reminds me all too much of myself.

"Do you ever just want to run?" She asks.

I fight a smile as I watch her. A restless little thing that looks like ants are crawling over her skin.

She looks up at me, "Are you listening?"

I nod. Still trying not to smile. Fuck me, I don't wanna stay away from her. There's something to uncover here, a mischief and a brightness hidden under her shyness. I know it.

"I play soccer, sweetheart." I say.

"That was a very jock-y thing to say." She retorts and then looks outwards to the long sidewalk, eyes desperate and gleaming, "Do you? Ever just want to run away?"

More than she might think.

"If you wanna play soccer, I can gladly kick a ball at you." I quip and she growls, irritated.

She wants to run. Down this long sidewalk and away, I gathered that. But it's always so much more fun when you're irritated and angry and you let it all out. When there's an emotional release involved, it's so much more fun.

"I'm not talking about soccer." She glares and I realise, yeah, she definitely needs some sort of emotional release.

"You're talking about running. Your finest skill." I lower down to say.

"I only run from your girl pack because I don't want to fight over you." She says, bitter. Whatever Victoria did probably wasn't nice. It's grating at her.

"Why not? It's fun for me to watch." I say and internally cringe. Her glare hardens though so it's working. Get angrier, angrier and then run right away. I'll chase you, sweetheart.

"You're gross."

"Do better." I tilt my head.

Her eyebrows furrow, wiping at her eyes to rid the raindrops, "What?"