Curtis's car resembled him in many ways. It was a shiny red Porsche, easy on the eyes, and highly sought after. Its engine purred when the gas was pressed, and it cruised with smooth ease across most terrains. Curtis was tall and handsome, eyes an attractive grassy shade, with darker flits speckling the area surrounding each iris. His black hair had thin, natural streaks of brown throughout it, and hard, wiry muscle was corded on his body. Both were attractive, but behind Curtis's appearance was a monster of a person.

I remained civil at most times, not keen on violence, but when I looked at Curtis a storm of hatred began to brew within my chest. His reputation preceded him wherever he went; the boy used and changed women like they were accessories, hopping from one to another. Up until I met him, homosexuality seemed the most unfortunate condition ever. But I would rather be gay, rather be a slew of things than be an abusive jerk preying on misguided women. Boys like Curtis were the reason why I worried about Chelsy. 

We walked to the car in silence, Chelsy strolling ahead of me. Curtis sauntered beside her in a broken way, bumping into her sometimes, his intoxication affecting his movement. A huge smile was present on Chelsy's face, as she stared at him, infatuated with his appearance. It had to be his appearance, because his personality seemed quite undesirable. We reached the vehicle, and Chelsy opened the passenger door of the Porsche, climbing in and casting me a wary glance before shutting her door.

I understood the message in her glance immediately. She was warning me to be careful, and to not instigate Curtis in away way. Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill, but I refused to give into crying and wiped at them until they dried up.

The tears were not motivated by fear, but rather by the warning glance. It reminded me of how my mother used to look at me when I was around my father. 

Heading to the back of the car, I opened the door on the passenger side, sliding into the sleek, red vehicle. An odor of alcohol and cigarettes slammed into me as soon as I did so, suffocating my senses. I slipped my nose beneath the collar of my shirt and struggled to not bolt from the car.

Visibly, the interior was clean save a few beer cans littered on the floor. Loud music blasted away in the vehicle, filling the silence with its deafening blare, and I pondered how the noise had not escaped the confines of the car. How had I not heard it when I was outside? The music was very electronic, ear-shattering beats pounding through the car, echoing off of the sides of it and leaving my head buzzing with pain. I groaned and shot a nasty glare at Curtis as he opened his door to get into the Porsche.

He looked back at me, disgust uncoiling in his gaze as ragged breaths slipped from his lips and the scent of alcohol permeated the air. I choked and covered my face, cowering against the back of my seat. I wanted him to look away from me.

"It's my car. If you don't like my music then you can get the fuck out," he snarled at me before falling into his seat, pulling his legs into the vehicle after him. He put the key into the ignition and twisted, bringing the Porsche to life. The vehicle let out a loud, smooth hum.

I chose to not argue with him about the music. I did not want to frustrate someone like Curtis. He could explode at any moment, and if I agitated him enough, even Chelsy would not be able to prevent the pain Curtis would inflict on me.

Curtis was a lousy driver. He pulled out of the driveway in a rush, nearly backing into the mailbox, as he made his way onto the street. Cars honked at him as he raced through traffic, blasting past stop signs and ignoring all traffic laws. Several times he cut other vehicles off, endangering all of our lives. He was speeding down the road, driving much faster than the speed limit allowed. I hated every feeling that Curtis caused, because they were all bad.

Fragile (BxB) #Wattys2016Read this story for FREE!