When Paths Cross. . .

Chapter 2: The Wolf

"I want this to be a good first day. Okay?" Tyler looked pointedly at me when he spoke. I brushed his words off mindlessly as I popped the cigarette between my lips, sucking in the smog of death– welcoming the sting it brought to my lungs. He kept his sharp glare trained on me awaiting a response.

Noah glanced over at me, giving me a dirty smirk before returning his gaze to Sarah and continued their previous conversation. I trained my eyes on him, scanning down his torso then back up. I could see his shoulders tense as he sensed my hungry gaze. I knew he could feel me. He wore a tight compression shirt with standard sweats, his hair fluffy and messy just the way I like. I watched a hand slip in front of my face and Tyler snapped his fingers– a sad attempt to regain my attention. My eyes slid over and met his unamused expression. "I mean it, Mike." His tone hid a warning. A warning I decide to ignore daily. Pinching the cigarette between two fingers I pulled it from my lips and tossed it to the ground, stamping it out. "Sure." I grunt, his face falling in defeat. "Whatever ya say, my dear~" I hiss through my teeth, smoke flowing out of my nose and mouth, taunting him as I turn my back. I feel his gaze burn the back of my skull as I make my way towards the doors, reaching out and brushing my fingers against Noah's waist on my way by. Feeling him flinch from my touch drives excitement through my blood, a smirk creeping onto my face.

I pulled the side door to the school open and step inside, looking around for any of the fucking scum that likes to call themselves men wandering around the halls. Seeing nothing of interest I continue onward keeping my senses on high-alert, the urge to constantly look over my shoulder– expecting someone to bash a rock into my skull has always been overwhelming. Though, I know nobody in this trash-hole is stupid enough to try it. If they care to live to see another day... that is.

I look forward to seeing Balto: the biggest fucking weasel in this entire town. The urge to drive my fist through his chest– yanking his heart out– and watch the life drain from his gaze, or maybe if I grabbed a screwdriver from the janitor's closet and drove it through his eye socket– the thought seems exhilarating. A cold shiver slithered down my spine as excitement coursed down through my veins. I'm sick. I know I am, only a monster would get thrilled by the thought of brutally murdering somebody. Even if that somebody deserves every pain in the world. It's still monstrous. Balto deserves every sick twisted pain in this world and I intend to hand it to him on a silver platter. I will break him over and over until he's a laughing stock. The day he decided to roofie Sarah, drag her to a bedroom, and touch her– that was the day he signed himself off to the Devil. Stupidly enough, Balto was clueless that I do the Devil's dirty work. The fool. You messed with the wrong bitch that night.

My hands tightened by my side as I turned the corner to my locker, keeping an eye out for him specifically. I wasn't surprised to find a note shoved into the small slit of the door. Quick to rip it out and open it. How cute.

Come fight me like a man you prick. Meet me in the little boys room: It wrote.

Alright, I'll find your ass. Not just find it but shove my foot so far up your ass that's the only memory you'll have. I swung around swiftly on my heels and marched down the hall, ignoring the prying eyes of hungry women– all eager to get a taste of what's in my pants. Whores, all of them. I scowl at the thought, ruffling my hair as I round the corner.

I took the first step into the bathroom, checking every corner and surveyed the room. It was empty. I scoffed, leaning against the doorway and pinned myself against the wall as I awaited for him to arrive. Son of a bitch was going to make me wait for his lazy ass. If he even shows, Balto's always been a damn pussy since day one. He's tall sure and is broad in the shoulders but that's as far as he gets with looks. He has dirty brunette curly hair and shit-pool brown eyes and the thinnest lips that I am eager to staple shut. Not to sound fucking racist, but he's just brown. That's his whole personality: being a damn shit-stain.

I cross my arms impatiently, a growl exiting my throat as I scanned my eyes through the halls, piercing through everybody's skin as I search for that tall fuck. My eyes slid past someone before darting directly back; my gaze locking onto a girl with a small frame and golden blonde hair and eyes like beautiful moon jewels. I knew the second I laid my eyes on her that I'd do anything for her. I'd take a bullet to the chest just to be beside her at this very moment.

Her skin looked soft to the touch, scowling as I rubbed my fingers together which felt like sandpaper. Her eyes were a beautiful diamond blue and everything screamed innocence by how she stood, how she behaved, and how she dressed. I wanted to know more.

My gaze hardened as I shifted uncomfortably, regrettably letting my eyes glide down to her skirt: watching it move each time her hips swayed. I wet my lips hungrily as I forced my eyes back to her face.

She was staring directly at me. Could she see me staring at her body, scanning her like a dog in heat? If she had noticed, she decided to ignore it, turning swiftly on her toes and headed after her friends that had wandered off without her. I could see her back was tense. She could feel me as I watched her retreating form.

I exhaled all the air from my lungs, pushing myself further into the wall as I stared at the back wall of the restroom. Cursing myself under my breath. I drove a hand over my eyes and up into my hair as I sat and pondered on my thoughts. She was beautiful and elegant.. I know I want her. I feel like I need her but I don't know why.

I shooed the thought away and focused on why I was here in the first place. But deep down I knew our paths would cross again and I was unsure if I wanted it to.