Good Gone Bad

Chapter 3

Elliot's pov.

Morning seems to come all too soon and before I know it Maxen is in my room ripping the covers off me. "Get up and take and take a shower you smell," he says.

I groan, "Kiss my ass,"

"After you wash it," he replies before leaving the room. I roll my eyes. How the hell does he get up so early? Even though I slept for eleven hours I still feel like I could sleep eleven more. But the long rest gives me just enough energy to embrace the world with my middle finger up.

I drag myself to the bathroom and turn the water letting the steam fog up the windows before I get the motivation to actually get in. Today should be a little less hectic. Maxen and I only have practice, but unfortunately I believe I have a shift at the diner. Which reminds me, I have to check my phone. Hopefully Phoenix sent me my schedule.

I rinse the last of the conditioner out of my hair before shutting off the water, and wrapping my water dappled skin in a towel. I let my hair leave a trail of wet spots on the floor, leading back to my room. I dry off quickly before wrapping my hair tightly in the towel and getting dressed. Today my attire includes shorts and a black cami topped with my tight fitted leather jacket.

I searched the floor to try and find where I abandoned my school bag so I can check the time. I find it half hidden under a pair of jeans. I fish through the disorganized carry on and find my phone tucked in at the very bottom of the little pit. I click the side button and watch the notification pop up telling me I have two messages. They must be both must be from Phoenix. I punch in my password and hit Phoenix's name.

Here's your schedule.

Below it she lists the days and hours I work this week, and just as I suspected, I'm working today from 4:30 to 8:00.

"Maxen!" I yell not feeling too lazy to go to his room even thought it's right down the hall.

"What!?"

"What time does your practice end today?"

"Four," he says. I don't answer him after that. I go to my closet, which is half empty since the majority of my clothes are scattered across my floor.

I snatch my black work shirt off it's hanger and toss it next to my bag before doing my make up quickly. I glance at my phone and remember that I still have another message. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise when I see a message from an unknown number.

Hey sweetie how you doin tonight? I wrinkled my nose at the screen. Sweetie? What the hell?

Who is this? I respond. I swear to god if it's Sampson I'll be pissed. My phone dings lightly with the arrival of a message.

Who is this? the unknown person asks, typical.

I asked you first. How did you get this number? I demand. It's times like theses that my patience is shortest. I just want clear to the point answers. A new message pops up on the screen,

I got it from a friend of yours.

And who is this friend of mine? I'm not buying it. Phoenix wouldn't give my number away without telling or asking me first and anyone else that has it wouldn't give it away either.

Tino. The person replys. Tino? Who the fuck is Tino? I've never even heard that name in my entire life.

Well then you definatly have the wrong number because I don't know a Tino. Hopefully this freak will leave me alone after this because I'm not about to have some creep wandering around with my number.