Saving Angelo

Eight - The Race Against Time.

Chapter Eight – Flynn's POV

It's a funny thing, being bad.

Sometimes it's great. I can walk down the streets of the town centre and have people cower away from me. No one ever bothers me, which I suppose is good when you've miscounted the week's wages and you're broke. On good days, I can walk into the corner shop and come out with the week's groceries totally for free.

But I suppose that's only because I gave the shop owner's son three cracked ribs and a third degree burn on the arse. I must say that was the most hysterical fight I've ever gotten into. It involved a stir-fry stove and several bacon-filled saucepans. I won't try to explain it because I'll start cracking up.

I think he was okay with it though. I sent him flowers in the hospital, along with a get well soon card.

Although I probably shouldn't have included that butt joke inside it, and instead wrote that sentimental crap people put in sympathy cards. Raven found it hilarious.

On the subject of Raven (and butts), as I'm trying to figure out a way to stealthily get into the school office and retrieve Greene's address, I notice someone behind me and smile.

"Don't worry about it Raven, I've got it covered. You do what you have to do, I'll text you the address in no less than 10 minutes," I say into my phone, and shortly afterwards I snap my phone shut.

Yes, I have a flip phone, like Raven. In my opinion, they're better. It's much more dramatic when you hang up the phone. Plus they're cheap is fuck, so that's always a plus.

Back on task, I jam the phone into my back pocket and spin around. The figure I saw before is still there, just like I thought.

A girl stands in the car park in front of me, and I already know what my strategy will be.

She wears a tight pink shirt cut short at the shoulders, but it's almost bursting open over her breasts, which is kind of disturbing. Her light blue jean shorts come halfway down her thighs and straggly, blonde hair is pulled over her left shoulder. She leans up against a baby blue Porsche, dangling the keys from her fingers.

She's smiling suggestively at me, lifting a penciled-in eyebrow at me, a silent invitation.

I sigh, and turn away for a second to recollect myself, rummaging through my pockets innocently.

Come on Flynn, you can do it. It's just a girl. She looks of age, so I'm not even doing anything illegal. Not that I'm really bothered about the law, if I'm honest.

I've done this before. I do this all the time actually. Seducing girls, getting information out of them, flirting with them, distracting them. It's all part of my life. But it doesn't make it any less weird.

I have to pretend they're guys. That's really the only way I can convince myself to do it. It's like she's a magnet, and I'm a piece of plastic. I can't help what I am, whatever I do, I can't be attracted to her. She's clueless, she doesn't realise that I'm not a magnet like her. If she did... well, I'd rather not think about that outcome.

I stop rummaging in my pockets and take my hands out, rubbing them over my face. I may be gay, but I'm experienced in the art of seducing. I gotta admit, I'm better at seducing boys, but I'm still good with girls too. Operation Seduce Random Girl in a Parking Lot is go!

I turn to look in the window of the school building, staring at my reflection and acting nervous, running a hand through my (perfect) hair, and patting down my clothes. I snatch a glimpse of the girl still standing in the car park behind me, smirking when she sees me anxious to talk to her. I smirk privately to myself. Ooh, this is gonna be easy.

Spinning around, I slip my hands into the front pockets of my jeans and stride towards the now grinning girl, and stop when I'm about a metre in front of her. This close up, I can see the girl's eyes are a dark brown and she has a few badly concealed freckles on her nose. I notice I'm considerably taller than her, but that won't matter.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot some cursive writing printed on the bonnet of the car, spelling in bright pink; Alisha.

I let her start the conversation.

She smiles, and leans forward from her slouched position on the car, lifting a poised finger and running it down my chest, while simultaneously stepping closer to me. "Hey babe," she whispers, peering up at me through her (quite obviously fake) eyelashes.

I smirk at her, forcing down the bile that's quickly rising in my throat. Let's try and get this over with.

"Hello, gorgeous," I flash a winning grin at her. "What's a pretty girl like you doing out here in the cold?"

Alisha giggles, and it's so high pitched and so freakishly annoying I have to cover up a wince with a smirk. If Raven were here right now...

"I could ask the same about you, Mr..." she trails off, waiting for me to fill in.

"Bond. James Bond," I quip, grinning at her. Praise the lord for my excellent, charming genes.

A thoughtful look appears on the girl's face. "Really? I think I know you! The name does ring a bell..." She pauses, thinking.

My mouth drops open. She cannot be serious.

"Got it!" she smiles, like she's just been handed a diamond encrusted trophy. The girl places her hands on my chest. "I've heard it on TV somewhere... aren't you on that bird watching channel on BBC?" she grins.

Is this girl for real? I search her face. There's absolutely no traces of sarcasm or signs she's joking.

I shut my mouth and try for a smirk. There's no going back now. "Yes I am, in fact. Not many people recognise me, it's lovely to see a fangirl,"

Facepalm.

It's a fucking bird watching television programme, the presenters on those shows are fat, boring old sods, so I expect the only fangirls watching them will be old women in their fifties that get off to men imitating dodo birds.

Nevertheless, Alisha's expression does not falter. She moves her hands up and down my chest in a sensual manner, and I guess from the way she's biting her lip, this is the stage where I get sexually assaulted in a parking lot.

"So...what can I do for you, honey," she purrs, speeding up the movement and closing her eyes, biting down harder on her lip.

I look down at my penis area. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Alisha's lip is drawing blood now, and suddenly I'm reminded that I'm on a tight schedule.

I sigh and go to put my hand on the girl's shoulder to push her away a bit, when she lets out a surprisingly loud moan, one that's way to sexual for my liking.

"Oh, touch me again, Mr. Bond," she moans, exhilarated.

Fuck this. I'm breaking a window.

I push Alisha off me in one slight shove and spin around, hastening back towards the school building.

"Wait!" Alisha shrieks behind me. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, you know, this and that," I call behind me. "Off to discover the true meaning and insight to a peacock's mating call, and whatnot,"

As I step up to the front entrance, I stride to a side window and smash my fist into the solid pane, sending fragments of glass flying everywhere.

That's how you fucking do it.

© 2016 Saving Angelo, (rebelsymphony). All rights reserved.