Bryce's P O V
"That'll be three hundred and fifty dollars, Miss." Usually I respond in a passive aggressive manner to any title bestowed on me other than, "hey, you" or "Oi," but if there's anything that dulls those involuntary spasms it's a wallet full of money.
"Change is yours, sir." I beam, placing the required amount in his palm, peppered by an extra twenty dollar tip.
I ignore the cashiers calls after me as I leave the thrift store donning an authentic nineties leather coat.
I might look like a twat but who cares, the only voice of my inner conscious I dare listen to now is the one eager to treat myself because I damn well deserve it.
Plus it gives me badass Matrix vibes.
If life was a movie, I can envision how this scene would pan out.
The camera recording my long strides from floor level matching my pace. The entire scene in slow motion to add drama to all the fleeting side glances spared in my direction, all the while a breeze carreses the delicate tufts of my bleached hair.
A handsome, chisel faced man in a tuxedo allows his eyes to linger to which I wink as we brush past each other and he manages to collide with a telegraph pole.
God, my senses are so alive everything feels enhanced tenfold the bittersweet winter air, the non existant sun, even the drunken pub crawlers trying to walk straight on uneven cobblestone.
It'd be really nice if--
"Oi, Neo try hard." On any normal day I would laugh at that remark but given their stern undertone and a brood Hero matching my stance across the road like duellers of a Mexican stand off, I did the most sensible thing I could.
Ignore him. Quickening my speed along the footpath, I notice the route ahead shows two suspicious characters clearly waiting for me fidgeting far too much for casual strollers.
"Come on Chester!"
At that point I proceeded to run through manicured shrubs cutting to a main 'off leash' dog park. "I'm not interested in what you're selling Tiffin." I yell back dodging a Frisbee which strikes JJ by the forehead.
THUD.
Avoiding dogs left right and centre a momentary look over my shoulder and I merely out speed Hero's outstretched hand by a second as an unknown dog takes the gesture as an invitation to attack at his dark denim sleeve.
Hero's P O V
"Hey! Let go of me you dirty mut!" The Rotweiller wrenches my arm in all directions like a child with a rag doll.
"Pearl, no, bad girl, release him." Right, cos naturally I'd name my killer dog something menacing like Pearl.
The moment that he'll hound release me I'm back in pursuit. Now might be the time to admit I hadn't handled the situation well.
Bryce Chester doesn't trust anyone and always expects the worst of any situation as a result of childhood abandonment--thanks to her goner Dad--and I just delivered an award winning performance like the A grade asshole I am, giving further validity for her actions.
Rounding a corner I fight to hide a smug smirk, unbeknownst to her that this abandoned side street leads to a useless cul de sac with no witnesses nearby.
She's still quite a distance ahead, but I can reach her, she's a decent ten centimeters shorter than me and gives me hope that we'll be on our way to keep JJ's ass out of the firing line, along with his sister and some extra bucks to play around with.
We're here, the next right she takes will lead to ultimate surrender and the return of the familiar weight two grand in my guarded back pocket.
It'll be such a tasteful victor--
Silence.
I'm greeted by an empty cul de sac, shrouded in the shadows of apartment buildings overhead. You could hear a pin drop here if my heartbeat wasn't durmming so loudly or the silence disrupted by my panting.
Where the hell did she go?
There isn't an obstacle available to hide her from view yet there is no trace of visitation.
That was when a twenty dollar note tucked in the cracks of loose bricks on a nearby wall caught my attention. In red ink across the currency was written, "Psyche."
The metallic creak of rolling gates cuts through the soundless Street behind me.
A final click locks the gate, separating me from a cocky Bryce Chester, as she casually steps back leaving me to claw thin air after closing the distance in a handful of long strides.
That smug grin she wears should be mine.
That money in her pocket should be mine.
She tosses the gate keys in a far and fluid arc, burying pale hands in her leater coat pockets.
After faking a search for two items she pulls out her ink black middle fingers in a tasteful display.
"Nice." I blandly comment through the gate.
"This is where the residents in the old apartment block used to keep their dumpster and rubbish..." the distant echo of hurried feet slapping the concrete ricochets off the building exteriors.
"Guess it'll feel like home to trash like you." I'm almost gobsmacked by the insult and partially impressed, but as she speeds off I find myself thinking...
The audacity.
Who the fuck does she think she is?
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Same Game New Rules
Fanfiction"Do you like this?" He asks, voice thick with sensuality while intertwining our hands. His grip is firm, warm but there is no tingling sensation whatsoever. "I'm not against it." I reply blandly. He sighs in frustration, nostrils flaring. Bringing m...
