Lucas:
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Get a grip, you idiot.
What the fuck was I thinking?
But that's just it. Isn't it?
I wasn't.
I wasn't thinking at all.
I heard the glass break and then her sharp intake of breath and then I was there.
At her side.
Without hesitation.
Stupid.
She cut herself on a fucking shard of glass. That she dumbly tried to pick up.
It's not like she broke an arm or a leg.
Then why are you so frustrated?
Oh. Right. Because you were angry.
At the fucking glass.
Yes. I was fucking angered by the glass that cut her.
Glass isn't even alive. It's a fucking inanimate object.
And yet it earned my wrath all the same.
Dio, what is wrong with me?
.....No.
No.
Not, what is wrong with me.
What is wrong with her?
What is she playing at?
Getting inside my head like this?
All the time.
I knew it. I knew she'd be no good. I knew it from the moment I met her. She would be trouble for me. And now my thoughts are coming back to bite me in the ass.
God, she's irritating.
Always finding a way to get under my skin.
That's never happened before.
No one can ever get me riled up.
Maybe that's because no one challenges you.
Not like she does.
No one has ever or would ever dare to go against me. To talk back to me. To speak to me with such contempt.
This is all her fault.
I need to put a stop to this.
This uneasy feeling that has began to fester inside of me. It's awful.
I hate it.
It needs to go.
The moonlight shines through my windows and spills onto the floor of my bedroom that I've been pacing for the past half hour.
Thoughts of the dark haired menace next door clawing at the corners of my brain.
Get out of my head, you Little Devil.
I need a fucking distraction.
Snatching my phone from where I had thrown it onto my bed, I pull up my contacts.
Bringing the device to my ear, I listen to it ring.
Three times.
Four times.
Five.
"What the fuck do you want?" My best friend answers on the sixth irritating noise.
"Get up. We're going to the tracks."
"I'm in the middle of something right now."
"I don't give a fuck. Tell whatever girl you plan on fucking that you can't stick it in her tonight."
"For fuck's sake. Why?"
"Stop fucking whining. I'll tell you when we get there."
"Fine."
"I'm coming now. So be fucking ready. I'm not in a patient mood."
"You're not?" His sarcasm would earn him a fist to the face if he was here right now.
I tut and end the call. Throwing a black jacket over my sweatshirt.
The one she had her hands on.
Stop, dammit.
I throw open my door and make my way downstairs and out to my car. Waving away the servant that tries to ask me where I'm going this late and if I'm alright.
What does it fucking look like to you, Enya?
I slip into my car and slam the door shut. Revving my engine and then speeding down the driveway through the now open gate, which closes automatically behind me.
I make it to Angel's house in less than seven minutes considering my speed and the fact that there are no other cars on the road.
He is already outside and walks over to the passenger's side open window. Leaning his arms onto the door. "So. What's all of this fuss about?"
"Get in."
He does and then I am back pressing my foot on the gas.
"You wanna tell my why you're going at an almost sixty or do you just wanna keep gripping the wheel like you wanna choke someone?"
"I don't wanna fucking talk about it."
"So then what do you need me for?"
"Would you stop asking dumbass questions?"
"Ah. That's right. Because I'm your best friend and you need me for moral support."
"Shut the fuck up. I don't need fucking moral support. I'm not fucking five."
"You sure? I won't tell if you cry."
I sigh and speed up once we get to the open road.
Angel takes out his phone and shakes his head. "You made me bail on a good one, asshole."
"Please. We both know you don't give a fuck. Not unless it's that little tornado's equally as little friend."
"You shut the fuck up. You don't know what you're fucking talking about."
"I don't?"
"No. Or should we talk about what you think of that little tornado?"
I don't answer and he smirks. "That's what I thought."
I press on the pedal a little harder and it takes us another fifteen minutes going at a sixty to get to the tracks.
They are located in a secluded area just outside of our small town.
"I'm guessing you're gonna race?" Angel asks as I slow and we pull into the part where there are tons of people for the Saturday races tonight.
"Mhm." As soon as we smooth over into the large space where the nicer cars are parked, an array of people, mostly girls, come running.
Rolling my eyes, I step out of the car and so does Angel.
"Lucas!"
"Oh my god. We haven't seen you here in forever!"
"You're even hotter than last time I saw you."
I pass through each body without so much as a backward glance, whereas Angel decides to entertain them a little. Probably looking for a different girl to take home after I made him shoot down the one from earlier.
"Agosti!" I stop and turn for the only voice I recognise and see some of my friends from here sitting atop the elevated platform that we have.
And by we, I mean just us.
It might be a little stereotypical but we like it. And we always get what we want. Including not only the fearful influence in this place, but also the respect that we have.
The fear we gain from our status. Our wealth and our ways.
The respect we gain from our racing. The fact that we unbeatable. Talented in our own rights. Each one of us.
I walk up to them and climb the short stone staircase to the platform. Picking up a beer from the keg and dropping onto one of the chairs.
There are six of us here. Me. Angel. Darius. Oakley. Madden and Caspian.
Me and Angel have tried numerous times to get Gio to come out but he always turns us down. Not really his scene.
I look around at the boys who greet me but see one missing.
"Where's the king?"
Darius Ford. Dark brown hair and black eyes. Points down just away from the starting line.
"Ah." That's what that crowd is. I should've known. "He about to race?"
"Nope." Darius's best friend speaks up.
Oakley Wilde is...... Well I'm not exactly sure what he is.
He is much like Angel. Being that he is inhumanly energetic and has the most random things leave his ever grinning mouth.
"He's already gone?"
"Yep. Finished before you came." Darius answers.
There's a snort from Oakley for that one.
"You guys doing it without me?" Angel comes on and flops down onto another chair.
"Never." Oak winks and throws him a cushion that he puts behind his head.
"I'm guessing he won." I state. Eying the crowd around his car and then how it parts like the Red Sea when he walks. Allowing him a straight path to us.
"Like he could ever lose."
"Have you raced?" Angel asks.
"Nah. Too tired."
"And the season starts up soon." Darius reminds him.
Those two are our little jocks. Hockey.
"Right. That too." Oakley nods.
"You fuckheads ready?"
We turn to see the last of us make his way up the stairs.
Madden Drakos.
King of the tracks. The best racer of all of us. Half Thai. Dark hair and dark eyes. Will fuck you up if you look in his direction sort of vibe.
And literal thing that has happened.
But we don't bring it up.
"You fuckin know we are." Oak responds while Mads takes a seat next to his best friend. Caspian.
Cas doesn't talk much. He is half Indian and ever the brooding shadow lurker. A lot like Gio in that way.
"Pass me a beer." Angel says to no one in particular as he lies with his head aimed at the sky.
"Here." I give him mine.
"Oh. Is our Preppy Prince not able to drink some cheap beer?" Oakley raises his brows.
"It's fucking disgusting." I point out. "And don't act like you guys aren't wealthy assholes too."
"Besides the point." He waves off. "At least the only thing we can have isn't fucking whiskey and port wine."
"Fuck off."
We all laugh and my mind slowly fades back to a fiery, little brunette with lethal purses.
I'm pretty sure I still have a slight bruise on my thigh.
That thing fucking hurt.
Her face slides into my head and I wish I hadn't given Angel that bottle so I had something to throttle. Then again, it would have probably been broken within five seconds.
What is it with her?
So goddamn frustrating.
And then when I touched her. Had my hands on her when I lifted her onto the counter. Worked on her hand. She felt so...warm. Soft.
I want to fucking claw at my skin.
What the hell was that about?
And you know another thing?
She's always fucking smiling.
Who fucking smiles that much?
Apart from Angel and Oakley of course, but I think I have completely ruled them out of any argument that concerns human behaviour.
She can't possibly be happy all the time.
No. No, I know she isn't.
When she's not smiling she's off somewhere else. In her own head. Staring off into space and forgetting everything around her.
Actually, she smiles through some of that time too.
What is wrong with her?
And why am I fucking thinking about her?
I came here to stop thinking about her.
"-even listening?"
"What?" I snap out of it and turn to my friends.
"What are you thinking about?" This comes from Mads.
"Nothi-"
"He's thinking about this girl that he's obsessed with." Angel interrupts.
Motherf-
"I am not obsessed with her." I growl through clenched teeth.
"So you were thinking about her." He smirks.
"No. I wasn't."
"Yeah, you were-"
"Wait." Mads holds up a hand. "You were thinking about a girl?"
"No."
"He was. Her family moved in to the estate next to his. She goes to our school and now she's a part of our group."
"Shut the fuck up, man."
"And we love her. She's the best."
"No she is not. She's fucking insane!"
"She's perfectly normal. And she's awesome."
"Yeah? What about the time she fucking attacked me?"
Angel rolls his eyes and the group makes a collective whistle.
"You did kinda deserve it."
"Oh, you mean when she continued to hit me with her fucking death purse?"
"You insulted the girl. If anything, she's better for getting you back."
"Are you crazy?-"
"Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on." All of the guys sit straighter in their seats.
"What?" I snap.
"Well..." Darius lifts his brows. "What does she look like?"
"What does it fucking matter?" I lift my hands and drop them.
"We wanna know." Oakley adds.
I curse under my breath and lay my head on the top of the chair.
"Come on." They all plead. Like annoying, tiny children.
"You want me to tell em?" Angel grins.
Coming here was a fucking waste of time.
"I'll take that as a yes." He turns to them.
I try to shut my ears off and then realise that a person cannot do such a thing so I instead try and think about something else. Something completely irrelevant. .
"She's a brunette."He starts.
It doesn't work
"Gotta love the brunettes." They look around at each other. Their tones' reasoning.
"Oh, she's hella shot. Like I'm talking just over five foot."
"That's pretty short."
"That means she's cute, right?"
"Nah, that means she's got fire."
"Why not both?"
I'm getting a fucking headache.
"And she's got blue eyes." Angel adds.
"Interesting."
"This sounds great so far."
"What kind of blue?" Oakley questions.
"I don't know. Just like a cool blue colour."
"Like yours?" He suggests.
"No. But they're pretty." Then he turns to me. I can't see him do it because I'm still facing the sky and my eyes are closed but I can feel his mischievousness aimed in my direction. "Aren't they, Luc?"
"All I know. Is that they are the most insufferable pair of eyes I have ever seen, that belong to the most insufferable person I have ever met." And with that, I stand and head towards the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Angel asks.
"To do what I came here to do."
"So you didn't come here to spend time with your best friends and nonbiological brothers?" Oakley questions with humour and sarcasm laced into his words.
I give them my middle finger as an answer while I walk away and down the stairs.
Assholes.
Sometimes I wonder why I love them so much. Or at all.
I get into my car, ignoring the people that try to talk to me and drive to the starting line where another car is readying.
I take deep breaths and look at my reflection in the mirror.
"You got this, sweetheart!"
"We believe in you!"
I swear to-
I shut the window on Angel and Oakley's sarcastic shouts of encouragement.
I glance over at the guy in the other car through the corner of my eye.
He switches between looking at me and the track in front of us. Well, I say me. He is looking at the black tinted window that hides my face and the whole interior of my car.
He didn't think he would be up against one of us.
He didn't think he was going to be up against me.
That smug look that I saw before I drove over here is gone now.
He looks a little like he's gonna piss himself.
Damn. Either he was boasting about himself to the betters here or he is just afraid of me.
I'd say half the former and all the latter.
A red headed girl with a white flag in hand walks out onto the track in between our two cars.
I rev my engine. Then again. And again. And again.
She lifts it high....and then brings it down.
I hope boy is a sore loser.