N I N E T E E N
BY THE TIME the boys were finished being painted, Dakota strongly resembled a tiger, Tyler had what looked like paint splatters all over, and Jay looked like he was on fire. They'd all just tugged off their shirts and hung them on a rack up front with a name tag stapled to it so no one else could take it. Not that it would take much to rip a staple off of someone's shirt.
"Who's next?"
I glanced up at the woman with the end of a paintbrush between her teeth and raised a hand in answer. "Me."
She waved me over. "Come on up. We have clothes in the back so you can show off the paint, if you feel like changing." I nodded, following her as she stepped behind a thick curtain and opened a door. "Head right in in there and get changed. Let me know when you're ready and what you want painted."
A quick change and twenty minutes of painting later, I couldn't believe the difference. When I'd changed, it didn't take long to find a white bandeau and a place to hang my jacket, but that wasn't what impressed me so much. It really was hard to recognize myself when the painter turned me towards a mirror. My entire body was covered in pinks, blues, and purples that glowed neon under the black lights. Tiny white stars littered my body and my eyes were lined with white eyeliner and mascara. It was beautiful, and if I wasn't worried about pressing somebodies boundaries, I would have told her she belongs in an art school. Her work was amazing.
"Holy shit," Tyler said, eyes wide as he looked me over after I stepped back into their view. "How come she didn't spend that much time on us?"
"Maybe she has a preference for girls." Jay shook his head slowly, eyes glittering as he grinned. "I'm impressed. You look amazing, Skye."
"Thanks." I grinned myself and did a little twirl, only to show that my back looked nearly identical to the front. The paint felt a little stiff as it dried, but I didn't mind it so much. The look was worth it.
"Almost making me regret not getting painted," Cyrus added with a smile. "I would if I knew whenever I'd get a call from Mom."
Cyrus decided to stay paint-free for the night because of his mother. While the love-birds, Ryder, and myself were at the hospital, Cyrus and Jay were staying with his mom to keep an eye on her due to an unnerving check-up a few days ago. When we all asked how she was doing, he'd fall silent and shake his head to show he didn't want to talk about it. Despite being the big brother-therapist type, Cyrus wasn't one to talk about his own feelings when he really needed to get them off his chest.
"Have you heard from her since you guys left?" I asked.
Cyrus shook his head. "Not yet. I'll let you guys know if I need to leave."
"I hope she feels better soon," I added, smiling sympathetically.
He ran a hand through his hair. "So do I," he breathed out.
"Maybe we should go have some fun," Jay suggested, "before this gets a little too depressing. No offense."
Cyrus shook his head. "None taken, man."
Dakota practically glowed at the mention of finally getting to dance. It came as no surprise when he snatched up Tyler's hand and started dragging him away to the middle of the dance floor.
Cyrus made his way back towards the entrance and leaned up against a wall. Jay followed behind with a distant look on his face, and it didn't take much guessing to know that he was probably as worried as Cyrus was about his mother's health. Back when Jay and I were close, he told me a bit about how he'd practically grown up in Cyrus' house with his mom, and was there when they found out she was sick. Her illness brought the two closer, and while their brother-like bond was a good thing, the circumstances that brought them to that closeness weren't great.
When I finally turned back around, I was slightly surprised to find Ryder still standing across from me. I raised an eyebrow in curiosity. His focus wasn't on me, but instead searching out on the dance floor. I didn't have the slightest clue as to what he expected to find, but found it best not to ask. Boundaries. "What are you still doing here?"
He crossed his arms and forced his eyes back to me with an unknown emotion left over from moments before. It fell away to his typical stony expression in a matter of seconds. "Why do you care?"
"I don't," I responded, crossing my arms as well. "I just assumed you'd take any opportunity to get as far away from me as possible."
"And why would I do that?" He tapped his chin, then pointed a finger in the air with a look of mock realization. "Oh, that's right!" He lowered his hand and counted off each finger as he spoke. "You're annoying. You never shut up. You're a pain in the ass. Then again, that's probably the name of the file with the list of irritating qualities you just so happen to posses, specifically for the purpose of pissing me off."
"Huh," I muttered, completely unfazed by his typically rude attitude. "So you do speak more than two words." I grimaced. "Besides when you're yelling, that is."
Ryder rolled his eyes and started to turn around. He lifted a hand in a short wave before glancing back. "I'm out of here. Do whatever the fuck you want, I don't really care."
"Ryder, wait."
He turned and raised a curious, but annoyed eyebrow. "What?"
I furrowed mine in thought. My eyes shifted over to the general direction of where he'd been staring as I considered asking, but chose to shove it aside. It wasn't my place. "Why didn't you get yourself painted?"
It was clear in his face he knew I had more to ask, but he chose to humor me instead of answer unwanted questions. "I didn't feel like it." He started to walk away again, then stopped. "Damn."
"What now?"
Ryder shook his head with a sigh. "Just my curiosity being a bitch again. You two have something in common."
"Hilarious," I muttered under my breath. "Asshole."
Once again, he chose to ignore my comment. "Why are you so open to Dakota?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," he clarified, taking a few steps closer, "that you don't seen to care about him knowing your secret. It's not just me and the guys, now."
I pursed my lips in thought. "I didn't even realize he knew, although it should have been pretty obvious." I shook my head. "Either he would have figured it out in his own, or Tyler would have told him eventually. After all, I think the two of them will last a lot longer than everyone who knows about Tyler's sexuality thinks."
"Maybe," Ryder agreed. "But, I've got things I want to do, so I'm leaving. See you guys in a bit."
I nodded once to him as he started walking away, then made my own way in a different direction towards the middle.
Everywhere you looked there were people making out and grinding on each other, with the occasional group of loners in the corners or seemingly close friends dancing like idiots. The closer I got to the middle, the more people bumped into my shoulders and shoved me aside.
"Hey," someone shouted as they bumped into me. "Watch where you're going."
I ignored him and kept on, used to the snide comments from the people here, but he grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. "What the hell?" I snapped. "That hurt, asshole."
"Don't ignore me when I'm speaking to you," he sneered, a heavy British accent hinting in his voice. His words came out slightly slurred and sent the hairs on the back of my neck straight up. I really didn't feel like dealing with some drunk asshole at the moment.
I glared up at dark brown, almost black eyes. He was painted with neon red colors to make it kook like there were bleeding cuts and gashes all over him. I would have been more interested if he wasn't such a dick. "Fuck off."
He gripped my wrist tighter, so I yanked my arm down and kneed him in the stomach when he was jerked down with it. He bent over and wrapped his arms around his abdomen with a groan.
"Don't touch me," I growled. I spun on my heal before he could say anything else and headed outside. The people and the loud music were too overwhelming.
I hated people like that. That guy thought he could walk all over me and that I'd cower in fear. I was stronger than that, and there was no way I'd ever let someone treat me that poorly.
Guys like him were the reason I went off on Ryder on my first day of school here. It was the day after I'd finished moving into my new foster home, not that I'd had much to move. I'd just come out of the office after getting my schedule when I saw him shove someone up against a locker.
At least half the kids in the hallway had their phones out trying to get a good camera angle, videotaping the whole charade with grins on their faces. The kid against the locker had been practically shaking with fear, and I couldn't fight the urge that led me to run forward and shove Ryder off of him. Both the kid, students, and Ryder seemed stunned that anyone would intervene, much less the dorky-looking new girl.
I'd felt pretty stupid after telling Ryder off, since the kid ended up being arrested later for attempted rape charges, hence the reason Ryder was flipping shit on him.
And that stupid feeling was erased when I saw that he still treated everyone else like shit.
From that day until the day I got caught spray painting the school, the boys had spent their time fucking with me and make me feel like an idiot. But, being the sweethearts they are, they mostly just teased me about dumb stuff and knocked my books down occasionally. I mean, they'd had no reason to like me at first. All they knew was that I'd been the girl to go off on their best friend, even if he did deserve it.
I was pulled from my thoughts as I realized I'd made it all the way outside, and to the back of the building where people usually escaped to for a quick smoke. I leaned the back of my head against the cold wall and closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh air. It was definitely a big change from the sweaty smelling bodies inside, even if the slight aroma of smoke invaded my senses out here. I hadn't even realise just how bad it had smelled in there until I got a whiff of the reasonably clean air outside.
The wind picked up and sent a shiver down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth when I heard the crunch of leaves nearby. Opening my eyes to see where the noise came from, I groaned. "Great, it's you."
The jackass from before with the bloodied paint snorted and slipped a cigarette into the corner of his mouth. His words were muffled as he spoke around it and flicked on a lighter behind his hand. "Come to injure me again?"
"Hardly." I stepped away from the wall and stalked towards him, arms still crossed over my chest. "You're a real asshole, you know that?"
"I'd watch what you say, princess," he started, pulling the cigarette from his mouth in favor blowing smoke in my face. "You may come to regret it."
I coughed and waved the smell of alcohol and smoke away with one hand. "Is that a threat?"
"If I threatened you, you'd know."
He went to take another puff of the cigarette, but I plucked it from between his fingers and tossed it aside. I watched the burning end sizzle out against the short grass through my peripheral. "If I was intimidated, you'd know."
He raised a mocking eyebrow and took slow steps forward until he was inches away from me. I couldn't help but notice his height towering over mine, but I still didn't waver my stance. Not that easily.
I uncrossed my arms and shoved his chest, making him stumble back a step. I grimaced. "I can smell the smoke and booze on you from here. That, and a little pot."
His jaw clenched. "You're really starting to tick me off."
"So?" I shoved at his shoulders again. I knew I was antagonizing him, but the thrill of the brewing fight kept me going.
He let a breath out of his nose and stepped forward. "You just can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?"
I suppressed the grin trying desprerately to break through, but couldn't help pushing him just a bit farther. Ignoring his comment, I asked, "What is that accent, anyway? Australian?"
I could've sworn I saw his eye twitch at that comment. "Piss off."
I'd understood him perfectly, but decided that one more little shove couldn't hurt.
Or maybe five.
"I'm sorry, what? I couldn't understand you. The Australian accent was a bit strong."
With a huff of frustration, he told quick, sudden steps forward. In my surprise at the unexpected movement, I stumbled back and mentally cursed myself for allowing him to corner me. He glared, the blatant anger behind it sending another shiver down my spine. "I said, piss off."
I smirked, but I was sure he could feel my speeding heart beating through my chest at the close proximity. My calm was a facade, and he knew it. "Sorry, hun. I don't take orders from you."
He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath through his nose, and I grinned as an opportunity arose. "You've got a lot of nerve—"
"So?" I countered. I lifted my hands and shoved his shoulders back with my finger tips. He stumbled back a little in surprise, so I stepped forward. "Yeah, I do have a lot of nerve. I don't put up with jackasses like you." I shrugged and pointed a finger in his face, but he grabbed my wrist. I yanked it away with a sneer. "I know your type; you think you're better than everyone else and that they'll all be intimidated by you because so much 'bigger and badder'."
"Is that so?" He stood straighter and stalked towards me again.
This time, I didn't back up. "Yeah, it is. I don't care if you're stronger than me, taller, or have a sharper glare. It doesn't make a difference; I'll win in the end. I'll win because I'm not afraid of you or your type."
"You sure about that?" He asked, voice a pitch lower. His lips twitched dangerously in what I couldn't make out between a smirk or a sneer in the dark, midnight lighting. "Because I wouldn't be, if I were you."
He grabbed my wrists again, but when I tried to yank them away, I couldn't. He continued forward until my back was against the wall and my hands were pinned above my head. My pulse thundered in my chest with my irrational breaths at the oncoming panic rising to the surface. "I am stronger than you, and I am bigger than you. I'm smarter, better looking, and overall just superior." He gripped my wrists a little tighter.
"You're not." My voice sounded weak to my own ears. I tried to pull my wrists free, but with a flex of his fingers, he momentarily tightened his grip. I started squirming to move around him, but to no avail. I would have kicked him if his legs weren't pinning mine to the wall.
My breathing became erratic as I processed his words and the situation, as well as the hot, intoxicated breathes fluttering across my cheeks. I knew the words he said were true, and all I'd spent the last ten-or-so minutes doing was antagonizing him to attack me. He was right. He was taller, stronger, and probably a hell of a lot faster than I was.
I was completely and totally helpless, and it was terrifying.
"I see I've made my point," he suddenly said, dropping my wrists and taking a few steps back. Withought another word, he pulled another cigarette out of the pack from his pocket, popped it in his mouth, lit it, and started towards the entrance to the warehouse.
My mouth fluttered opened and closed as I struggled for something to say; whether to myself or the retreating figure, I didn't know. I was disappointed with myself. Grade-A asshole or not, I'd gone out of my way to insult him, then managed to prove that if he hasn't had even a shred of decency, I would have greatly regretted doing so.
I tilted my head down and slid against he wall to the itchy grass. Was I really any better than him? I stood there and tried my hardest to piss this guy off, knowing damn well that it could have ended very badly, and very differently. I'd been too full of myself to think that anyone could beat me. That everyone was below me.
I pulled my knees to my chest and rested head in my folded arms. There was no telling how long I'd sat there, lost in thought, before the darkness of sleep consumed me.