Chapter Twelve

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Blake's face was still inches away from mine, not showing any signs that he was going to move.

"Huh, you know you can leave now," I told him and backed away.

"What? Don't you enjoy my company?" he asked with his cocky smile.

"Thought I already made my point clear on the matter," I informed him with an annoyed smile. I turned my head back to my drawing and picked my pencil.

Maybe if I ignored him he would leave?

I almost laughed out loud at the thought. Yeah right! Didn't I already know that? Getting rid of Blake was probably harder than getting rid of a bad perm!

Blake took something out of his pocket and then lent it to me.

"What's this?" I asked eyeing the folded sheet suspiciously.

"Rat poop! What do you think? It's a contract," Blake told me rolling his eyes.

"What for?"

"Well, it's just in case you decided to unsuspectingly drop our deal," Blake answered "Pen please," he asked his palm open.

I gave him one and then he quickly scribbled something on it and gave me the sheet.

On it, it basically said that I agreed to help Blake out, anytime he asked for it, and in return I had unlimited access to his father vinyls collection. If any of us broke the terms of the contract we had to run naked around the entire school, screaming spinach as we went.

"Why spinach?" I asked as I signed the contract.

"I don't know I just like the sound of it," Blake answered and then he signed it too.

Then he put the contract back in his pocket, but his eyes fell on my drawing table, and more precisely my drawing pad

"What have you got there?" Blake asked and I almost threw myself over my drawing.

"Step back douchebag or else I'll cut your balls with my pink Swiss pocket knife!" I threatened him, my eyes narrowing.

Hell yeah! I got a pink Swiss pocket knife! And I carried it in my purse all the time! You never knew when you'd need to make an emergency neutering. A friend of mine bought it on her trip to Switzerland. She knew I had a thing for knives. Now I knew that sounded creepy but people should not be worrying. I wasn't dangerous.  Or maybe I was. You never knew with me.

That's something my mom hated. When I was sitting on the couch reading a book, holding it with one hand and playing with my pocket knife in the other. Okay, that definitely sounded creepy... Plus I did totally want to be a ninja...

"What's so important under there? Did you write Lexi Eaton in different handwriting to see how it would look?" Blake asked his eyes twinkling evilly.

"Yeah, right! I'm not one of your many hopeless bimbos Blake," I answered but kept covering my drawing.

I wasn't about to show him what I had done, because for one, showing my drawing to me me felt like bearing my soul and I wasn't about to do that. And this particular drawing was kinda disturbing.

"Then what's under there?" Blake pressed again, coming closer.

I shooed him away with my hand.

"It's a drawing, alright Mister Pompous-Ass! Now back off, because I'm dead serious about the pocket knife thing!"

"Oh I have no worries for my balls girly, because the minutes you'll drop my pants you're going to all but savagely attack me," Blake said and I think his smirk was so big the space station could probably see it.

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