So, What Pick-Up Line Actually Works On You?

Chapter Nine - Now, Call Me Master Again; It Makes Me Feel Big.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE WATCH THE VIDEO AT THE SIDE! IT TELLS YOU WHERE I GET MOST OF MY CRAZY IDEAS FROM!  =D

Chapter Nine – Now, Call Me Master Again; It Makes Me Feel Big.

The bus shelter was draughty, and I zipped my jacket up all the way. I sat perched on the bench, not wanting to put too much of my body on it. I eyed Rhys cautiously, his nose had started to swell up and he seemed to be in a daze.

“Rhys, are you okay?” I asked tentatively, terrified to ask. What if he flew off the handle and messed my face up? That would be painful. He did a lot of damage to James, and James is tougher than me. What if Rhys killed me?!

Okay, deep breaths Anabelle. Rhys isn’t going to kill you, he might join you in a battle of wits, but he wouldn’t kill you.

But he beat up his brother, his own little brother.

Called the small annoying voice inside my head, the one that was sensible. The one I wasn’t inclined to listen to when I was with Rhys. That voice ruined all my fun.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just sore. Very, very sore. But I’m thinking of hammering creeps that follow you around more often. Afterwards, the care you give me is exquisite, I got a hug! A wonderful hug, in fact the best hug ever!” Rhys teased, and I stared blankly back at him.

How was that the best hug? Perhaps it was best I didn’t ask.

“Eh, okay. That’s nice, dear.” I spoke unsurely, just wanting the bus to arrive. It was starting to drizzle lightly, and the clouds in the sky were darkening. If a storm hit, I would be stuck in the rain with Rhys, and we would end up doing something stupid but fun.

“You honestly don’t know what you did to make it the best hug ever. Think about it, young grasshopper. Think about our position.” Rhys hinted playfully, and I could tell he was enjoying this more than he should be.

I sighed through my nose, and shook my head at him. Damn him, being all cryptic and the like. The drizzle had increased to a few random fat droplets of rain, and the bus was around ten minutes late by now. This was ridiculous! I huddled into the corner of the bus shelter, wrapping my arms around myself and propping my hood up.

“Why don’t we just start walking?” Rhys suggested, breaking the silence. I looked at him incredulously, and then looked at the size of the rain drops.

“I’m not walking in the piddling rain; I don’t fancy dying of hypothermia. Leukaemia’s more the way I want to go out.” I bit back, smiling a little. Rhys laughed humourlessly, and gazed out to the horizon.

“It doesn’t have to be that way though, Anabelle. You can change your mind at any time, any time.” Rhys repeated, staring me straight in the eye. I shrank under his piercing gaze, glancing away. It was too intense for my liking, as if he was trying to tell me something.

Just at that moment, the bus pulled up. Rhys peered at the bus number, checking if we had the right one. Then he sniggered and nodded, “Annie, we’re so going on this bus.” I frowned at him, and stepped to the right to see what was so funny about the bus number.

Number 420? Wow, that’s mature. With a groan, I pushed myself up off the bench and beside Rhys who was stepping onto the bus. The bus driver pursed his lips at Rhys’s battered face and then clucked her tongue.

“Son, that’ll be €4.20. And please don’t cause a riot.” He droned, as if used to seeing shady characters on his bus. Even though we weren’t particularly shady. What bugged me the most was that he assumed I was with Rhys without even asking! I fumed silently, glaring at the barely legal to drive man as Rhys handed over the €4.20.