Playing With Fire (Previously Burning The Bad Boy) (UNDER RECONSTRUCTION)

{2} Come At Me, Bad Boy

There was something incredibly fascinating about watching Damon at lunch.

Maybe it was because it was such a rarity for him to show up that had me hanging off the edge of my seat in anticipation of his next move when he threw himself down at a random table across the room, nothing but an apple in his right hand.

Rachel wasn't exactly interested in Damon as a whole; she thought he was immature and an adrenaline junkie. Her eyes were out for Ryder, Rosewood High's very own Varsity Quarterback who already had scouts knocking at his door. Her focus had been on him since Freshman year, and nobody, not even Damon, could change that. Even now, hunched over the garbage can, digging through it for a piece to use for his science project, she looked as if she were seconds from passing out.

"Damon's here." I whispered when she diverted her eyes from the tall jock across the room. She blinked herself back into reality a few times and frowned.

"What'd you say?"

"I said that Damon's actually here for lunch today." I leaned back and smiled down at my untouched tray, "Apparently you aren't."

"Micky." Rachel said quietly. I lifted my head with a questioning look, she wasn't even looking in my direction.

"Micky!" She repeated, reaching across the table and smacking the top of my hand, "Damon is coming over here."

I spun on the bench and sent a look over my shoulder, meeting Damon's midnight blue eyes before I could find that he had stood up. He held my gaze until he sat himself down at our table, drawing most of the attention in the cafeteria to us.

The last time I'd been this close to Damon Fox, he'd had silver braces, a wiry body, and was covered from head to toe in mashed potatoes. 

"Hey, beautiful." he directed his quiet, breathy greeting at my best friend, then turned to me, "McKenzie."

I had to do a double take to make sure I had heard him right. He knew my name? Damon Fox actually knew his accidental tormenter's name?

"Y. . . y. . ." Rachel sputtered, then threw her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. I only stared at the leather jacketed badass sitting before me with a dumbfounded look.

"I got your note." Damon tapped his fingers on the table top, "But there was nothing on it. Did you forget to write your number?"

"I did!" I responded quickly, pulling a piece of paper from my binder and scribbling it down quickly before passing it to him. He opened it and smirked, giving me the opposite of the reaction I had been expecting in return.

"I don't think it's very ladylike to use these words, McKenzie." he folded the paper back up and shifted his blue eyes back to me.

"That paper wasn't a note." I said quietly, not exactly sure why I was even talking to the guy. The whole lunch room was eavesdropping in on our conversation and anything I said would spread through the school like wildfire by the end of the day. "My friend was trying to get my attention and I tossed it back at her. It just . . . missed its target."

"I always just seem to be in the way when it comes to you missing your target, yeah?" he joked, flashing a smile that earned sighs out of a few girls residing at the table behind us.

"Why are you over here anyway?" I shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his amused look.

"I wanted to be sure that there wasn't supposed to be anything written on that paper." he pushed himself up from the table with a smirk, "Such a shame there wasn't. It's not every day I get hit with a piece of paper that wasn't meant for me. With an arm like yours, you should try out for the football team." I swallowed the lump in my throat angrily, but Damon was already gone, leaving a crumbled piece of paper as the only visible reminder that he'd been over here in the first place.