Tutorials and Stolen Kisses

Fourteen: Witchcraft

She was going to be honest here, but she had thought Davian was joking. Because really, look at it this way.

Why would a bad boy like him want to be tutored by someone like her—don't get her wrong. She didn't mean that in a demeaning way, not at all. She wasn't a nerd like his girlfriend Sabrina—or used to be, Jess had to strive for her grades. If she wanted distinction, she had to start reading that particular subject from many months before.

Passing didn't exactly come easy to her and--if nobody else knew this fact and still labelled her a nerd either way--HE knew. The fact that she was sure he knew and still remembered and wanted her still to tutor him was quite fishy to her.

With one night of thinking, she came to a conclusion. He had just been pulling her legs—he didn't mean it. He couldn't—

That was not the case at this moment.  Because she was currently sitting-shotgun in the passenger seat of his Audi R8 listening to Witchcraft sung by Frank Sinatra playing on the radio, he was on about how much of a seductress the woman was—Jess liked it though. From the corner of her eye, she watched Davian and wondered if he liked this kind of song.

It was a classic and it definitely wasn't the kind of song a bad boy would want to listen to. She figured that he listened to artists like J.Cole, Frank Ocean, and the likes. Rap music in general so she was wondering why he hadn't changed the radio station, yet.

Out of the corner of her eye, she was surprised at what she saw. She had expected the bad boy to be so repulsed at the kind of music Frank Sinatra sang but instead he was drumming along to the tune as he drove.

She couldn't help it. "You like Frank Sinatra?" she deadpanned and as if startled, he hit the breaks hard, the car coming to an abrupt halt at a red light. Thank God for seatbelt.

That didn't make her take her eyes off him. She wanted to watch him. Why had he been drumming along and also mouthing the lyrics?

"Frank—who?" he said in that empty tone of his he used when he was CLEARLY LYING.

"Don't play dumb with me Davian. You like Frank Sinatra. You like FRANK SINATRA!" Jess couldn't help but giggle loudly at this revelation.

"This is gold. Imagine how this would spread through school? I can imagine the rumour mill churning...the bad boy likes classic music, what an old geezer. Did you know that the bad boy listens to One Direction!! He also secretly does his nails and—gasp, wait for it— he is gay. The bad boy is so lame. Oh my word, imagine that. It would be so much fun," Jess was secretly laughing to herself. The gossip would be one that would run for years and years and end up being a legend and oh, how the students will hate Davian—and all of this will result from him just simply knowing the lyrics to a Frank Sinatra song.

Newsflash. That is highschool for you.

"Jessica," came the gritted response as he revved the car engine. She raised her eyes turning to him to see his ice glazing in anger.

"It's not—"

"Shut the fùck up. I don't care, but I swear on my un-dug grave if you go around spreading rumours you won't be able to finish, I'll make your life pure hell." he said in the most deathly tone as he sped off angrily even going beyond the speed limit as the traffic light turned green.

Jess was scared and made sure her back was planted against the seat as she clutched her sides as he weaved in through the cars, over speeding and scaring the crap out of her.

Before he killed her because of her mere joking around, shouldn't he know that she didn't even have any friend yet after just making fun of it and trying to fill in the silence they had been in since she entered—when he forced her to enter his car.

She couldn't say anything though because glancing at him made her scared when she saw his jaw clenching and his fists turning white due to the forceful grip he had on the steering wheel and now, he had completely ignored the traffic lights and stops.

Images upon imagery flashed in Jess's head making her remember. Years she had spent trying to forget, when she had been finally convinced she wouldn't remember, after months of physical therapy and counselin—

"Mommy, my teacher taught me in school that red means stop. Why didn't you stop when the light said you should stop?"

"Shut up..."

...

"Mommy, what are you drinking? Is that water? Can I have some?"

"Here. Have this and shut your fücking mouth up. You're distracting me and we have to leave fast and get the hell out of here."

"Mommy, I'm tired. I want Daddy. I want home. Mommy let's go back home."

...no answer...

"Mommy, you're scaring me, stop driving so fast."

"You're scaring me...stop driving so fast."

"Mommy, I'm scared."

"Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy look, there's a big truck in—"

She could still hear it, the hard collision of metal against metal. One of a metal car which had been going almost at the speed of light and being thrown, she remembered that part. Then screaming too. Was it by her? Who was? The smoke, oh, the smoke. She remembered that part as vividly, she could still smell it. She was also suffocated, calling for her Mommy, wanting to reach her Mommy, she couldn't find her Mommy.

The smell of fuel. More shouting, more inaudible screaming yet, she couldn't open her eyes.

And then the boom that could be heard for miles.

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