Locked With Vincent

Chapter 8| Truth

"Cool." I promise. 

A grin splits across her face. Naomi looks like a five year old as she skips away with Tucker. But I can't help but think about her words. 

Vincent's gang. 

He has a gang.

I turn my head to see him alone now, eyes closed as he leans back. I stand up and dust my hands off to march over to him. I need to ask him some things. Especially about the whole gang. Sadly, a bigger part of my mind wants to know about the kiss. 

But I push that aside for now. 

"Vincent." I say in a steady voice. His eyes remain shut but he hums out a response. "Can you look at me?" I ask, feeling impatient. 

"Sorry, I hope to keep my vision intact." he rumbles out. 

My lips form an o shape. My courage depletes and I feel like scum on a shoe. I thought I was the girl whose was indifferent to other's opinions. But with one look or a single phrase, Vincent can make me feel like I am less than acceptable. 

"Gee," I start with a sour tone. "Sorry for even asking." 

I begin to turn away, not wanting to speak anymore. "Aw come on Kanin, wait." he says. I feel a hand grab my wrist and yank me back. I come face to face with Vincent his grayish eyes are locked on me. "You didn't take me seriously, did you?" he asks, quirking one brow. 

"How else was I supposed to take it Vincent?" I scowl. I don't want to be belittled by him any longer. I tug my hand out of his and pull away. "Like a joke." he says annoyed. I roll my eyes. 

"You're a hypocrite." I point out. 

"Oh really? How so?" his eyes flash with a challenge. 

"I called you an ass the first day. Maybe I meant it, maybe I didn't. But it was one words from a girl you barely knew. You, almost everyday, taunt and pick on me. Take it like a joke, Kanin. But why do you get to go mad and threaten me when I can't?" I rant. 

Vincent doesn't answer right away. He purses his lips and for once in his god damned life, he is speechless. I nod. "See? I'm right. All you do is make people feel like shit and keep secrets." I scoff. His eyes grow dark and I know I pushed it too far. 

"Did you feel like shit when I was kissing you?" he asks in a deadpanned voice. My eyes widen and I feel my jaw drop. Did he really just say that? I clamp my mouth shut and look away. "That's a low blow." I mutter. 

"Still didn't answer the question." he reminds me, but caring about his insensitive words. 

"Would you care?" I shoot back. 

"I asked, didn't I?" he counters. I clench my hands and look away. "You shouldn't care." I mumble. Suddenly his fingers are grabbing my jaw and yanking my face to look directly at him. "Answer. Me." he growls.

He fingers are calloused and hold tightly to my face. Why does he care? So he can make fun of me even more? It shouldn't matter to him. But it matters to me, I realize. And I can't stop myself f m glancing down at his lips. My throat feels dry, like someone stuffed it with straw. 

Stop it Kanin. 

I lick my lips and bite down hard to focus. His eyes lower to my mouth and my stomach feels like it is caving in and my heart leaps up to my throat. "Quit that Kanin." he demands. 

"What?" I ask, breathless. My heart pounds into my rib cage and I am pretty sure it cracked a rib. When he leans in a fraction of a inch closer, my heart goes into the danger zone of cardiac arrest. Maybe even a heart attack.