Chapter 8
Mr. Player’s Latest Prey
ALEX
I wait for a second or two for Dylan to fully get out of his car, and then toss him the car keys, and then without a single glance, I hurriedly walk away. I notice people staring curiously at me from afar. It’s not every day that you see a girl arrive in school in Mr. Player’s car. Especially a girl like me—plain, boring looking, not belonging to the popular crowd, an invisible stranger. It’s not that Dylan didn’t bring girls to school, he did. He brought tall, slim girls with model-like figures and long legs. He usually pushed them against his black sports car and made-out with them right there and then in the parking lot, in front of everyone. This was nothing new, a girl arriving with him. What was new was a girl like me being seen with Dylan.
I hurriedly walk away, trying to hide somewhere from all the judgmental eyes, analyzing me, judging me, like they know me. They all are probably thinking along the same lines—that I’m an easy ‘catch’, another one of Mr. Player’s plaything, that I probably won’t last more than 2-3 days. They can’t be more wrong. I’m not anyone to Dylan, definitely not one of his girls who fall to his feet the first chance they get. But they all probably consider me a slut anyway, for being seen coming out of Dylan. But what do they know? They don’t know I’d never been kissed until last night.
But that’s how people are, judging is human nature. It’s in our genes, our blood. We assume things about people without actually knowing anything about them. We think of nasty things and stereotype people, not considering that these same people might have some goodness in them too. And honestly, I don’t blame them. I myself have judged uncountable number of people—intentionally or unintentionally, but I have. It’ll be hypocritical of me to lash out at these people for doing something I’ve done myself many times.
I silently walk, not paying attention to anyone. Suddenly, a hand clasps around mine. My first instinct is to yank off that hand and punch whoever it is doing this. That’s just who I am, I don’t like being touched unnecessarily. But I don’t do it, something prevents me from doing it, and boy am I glad I didn't do it! It’s Tia who’d grabbed my hand, not some lousy stranger. Thank god I didn’t do what I was about to do. I don’t think my best friend would appreciate me punching her.
"Thank god, I thought you would never stop." she exclaims. "I’ve been calling out your name for the past minute, didn’t you hear me?”
"Oh, I'm sorry. My mind was too preoccupied. I just didn't want everyone to stare at me. You know how much I hate it when people stare at me." I mumble.
"Yeah, I know. So tell me, how did it go? How in the world did you let Dylan give you a lift?" She asks in her let’s-gossip-about-someone voice. She wants all the juicy details, not that there are any.
"Oh, it's a long story. Besides, I'm not talking to you, so I don't have to tell you anything" I reply back, suddenly remembering I’m supposed to be angry at her for giving Dylan my phone number and address. I mean who does that, giving their best friend’s personal details to a random (hot) stranger?
"What? Why? What did I do?" Tia asks, her voice laced with worry.
I narrow my eyes at her. "You know very well what you did"
"Fine, so I gave him your phone number, and address, big deal!" she exclaims, rolling her eyes, like she can’t believe how childish I’m acting.
"Not to mention I have to endure car rides with him every day, because of you, when I don't even need to. I have my own car thank you very much."
"Oh c'mon, I said I'm sorry. Besides, Dylan Kennedy asked for your number! You should be happy. He usually doesn’t have to do that; girls just slip their numbers and well, everything to him." She says. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, like she thinks Dylan is some God that ought to be worshiped.
"Happy? Yeah right! I don’t care how insanely amazing or hot he is, the truth remains that I don’t like him—at all. Even his presence annoys me now. All he does is disgusts me. You know how I feel about men, especially those who can’t be loyal to one person; and not just men, but every non-loyal person. They remind me of my father.” I say scowling. And it’s the truth, it really is. Seeing Dylan just boils my blood. Every time I look at him, all I can imagine are the numerous girls whose hearts he must have broken, the numerous girls who’ve cried for him.
"Oh god, forget it. Just tell me what happened this morning." Tia finally says giving up. She doesn’t really get it, no one does really; and no one will unless and until they’ve gone through what I have. That’s the truth of life—nobody can fully understand how you feel except yourself.
So then I tell her everything. I tell her how Dylan had come to my house this morning and won my mom's heart completely; how my mom wants him to drop me off to school every damn day from now onwards; and how he kissed me, and I felt like never stopping. My face visibly turned red during the mention of the kiss. If I think hard enough, I can actually even feel his lips on mine, and even re-live the whole experience. I can feel his hands on my hips, pulling me towards his body, and feel his other hand pushing me against the tree trunk. I can also feel his hot breath on my skin and—
“Hello? Alex?” Tia’s voice brings me back to my senses and my cheeks turn redder. Tia doesn’t points this out though and ignores it; instead she waits for me to spill the remaining details. And so I tell her about my little drama during the car ride. "Talk about dramatic television soaps, who says life isn't dramatic? You guys come straight out of the television. Well, it does seem true; I mean have you seen Dylan? He seems to have come straight out of a movie poster. You guys seem like an on-screen couple. He is the player, you resist him and the next thing you know you're falling for each other—"
"Whoa, hold on girl. You're going too fast. That is never going to happen—like ever." I interrupt her before her imagination can run wilder. I feel absolutely horrified that Tia would come up with something like this. She’s known for her wild and crazy theories, but hardly any of them come true. But could this one actually happen? Could she be right this time?
Ha! No way in hell, like never ever.
"C'mon, let's go. We'll get late for class if we don't" I say and walk over to the door and open it. Five minutes later we bid each other goodbye, walking away into opposite directions to go to our respective classes. When I arrive at the door of the classroom I notice that everybody is already seated and the teacher is getting ready to take the roll call. I quietly slip into the class and take the seat I usually sit in. It’s in the backward section of the class, not exactly the last seat, but somewhere in the middle.
It gets a little quiet when I take my seat and I inwardly smile. Thank god, at least they have the decency to keep their mouth shut during class. Apparently, I am wrong though. The whisperings begin in full force a few seconds later. No, not everyone is busy gossiping about me, I’m not that interesting, but I can see a lot of kids doing it, leaning towards each other as they eye me, whispering things that are probably not true. Most of the people sitting nearby are staring at me, and then something behind me, and then they turn back again. I turn to look on the other side to see what is demanding their attention.
Guess what I see?
Dylan Kennedy.
I had been so busy in quietly sneaking into the classroom that I hadn’t noticed that the seat I’m currently occupying was right next to where Mr. Player is sitting. What the hell is he doing here? I mean he never sits here! He sits at the back where usually Stacey does too and all the other popular kids in class. It's like an unwritten rule. The nerds have to sit in the front and the popular kids sit at the back, and we normal, average people are always situated in the middle. So I repeat, what is he doing here?
Dylan turns to look at me the same time I turn to look at him. His lips instantly form a smile. My heart immediately responses to it by beating a tad bit faster than was before. I know my body shouldn’t have such reaction to just a simple smile. But no, that smile is no ordinary smile. This very smile, that he’s passing me right now, is well known for making numerous girls swoon (okay, not swoon) and win their hearts. This smile that he’s passing me is one of his most deathly weapons that he can use to do a number of things.
I take a deep breath to calm my erratically beating heart and then turn to him. I speak with as much contempt as I can. "Why are you here?"
"Huh? So now I can't even come to school?" he says, widening his eyes innocently. He cocks his head slightly to the left and blinks his eyes. His voice comes out deep and smooth. I feel something weird in the pit of my stomach, tickling me, yet at the same time making it difficult for me to breath.
"No, I mean, why are you sitting here? Why aren’t you at the back, with your girlfriend Stacey, or better yet skipping class like you always do?”
He wrinkles his nose in disgust as I mention the word girlfriend and Stacey in the same sentence. "Listen baby girl, I'm Dylan, and I don't do relationships, got it? There's a reason they call me Mr. Player. Be sure to remember that. Stacey's not my girlfriend. No one is, and no one can ever be." He says coolly, he sounds slightly annoyed. There’s clearly some reason behind it; when he says the word ‘relationships’, I can hear the disgust in his voice. He clearly hates anything to do with that.
"First of all, don’t call me baby doll.” I narrow my eyes at him as I say this. “And, whatever Stacey is to you, just graze her with your noble presence and not me."
"No, I don’t think so, might as well try something different today." As soon as those words leave his mouth, he starts leaning towards me. The desks in the classroom are quite close, so when he does this, his lips lightly touch my cheek, making my body go rigid. I sit there—frozen. My frozen state lasts for about ten seconds, during which I enjoy the sensation invoked by those lips. As soon as those seconds are up, I turn to look at him, angry words bubbling at the tip of my tongue, ready to be shot out any second. But no words leave my mouth as his fingers slowly makes circles on my palm, then they head towards my arm, they travel upwards before the reach my face. Slowly, his other fingers join in and gently grab my chin. Dylan, if possible, leans even more close to me and whispers softly into my ears. "You want me Alex, admit it; you know you do”
Yes Dylan, I want you. I want you really bad. So bad in fact, that the only thing controlling me from not smashing my lips onto yours is that we're in a classroom.
I turn to look at Dylan, almost scared of what is going to happen next. I’m almost trembling, I really am. His hands are so warm. They are gentle yet firm, and their soft touch is sending tingles through my skin. I can’t help but remember the heated kiss we shared last night at the party. It’s not just kissing he’s good at; there are whole bunch of other things he can do.
I blame Dylan for what happens next. Almost as if the peace and quiet that had suddenly taken over the classroom was the calm before the storm, Mr. McAllister’s voice drops on us like thunder. “Miss Rogers and Mr. Kennedy, what do you think you’re doing?!” He bellows, startling me so badly that I almost fall off my seat. "Do you think this place is ideal for doing such vulgar, physical activities? I say that if you come here to do this, then its better that you don't come at all. Get out of my class!" he shouts on top of his lungs. Everyone is staring at us now. I've never felt so scared. What is going to happen now?
We both keep sitting, frozen in our seats. I glance anywhere but in my teacher’s direction, my heart is beating wildly. Every single person is staring at us like we’ve just been caught having sex. I can literally feel our teacher’s glare, and so, without further ado, I hesitantly get up from my seat. I glance at Dylan, to see if he’s standing up or not.
He’s sprawled comfortably on his seat, not planning on moving anytime soon. "Chill dude, you totally ruined the moment. I should be the angry one. What I was busy doing is so much more interesting than what you were teaching”
What the actual hell?! I know he doesn't mean anything he’s just said. He’s just trying to annoy the teacher, and I am going to suffer because of it. "B-but, we didn't do anything!" I try to lessen the damage that has already been done by him. The last thing I want right now is a detention, but maybe it’s too late for that.
"Shh...Sweetie, it's okay. We don't have to hide this. We weren't doing anything wrong. Besides, kissing is healthy." My hands clench into fists. It takes me every ounce of my willpower to not kick him right there and then in front of everyone. We didn't do anything, and he knows it. Dylan is just stirring trouble. What is his problem? Everyone’s gaping at us right now, they clearly believe Dylan. No one really saw us doing anything, but the way he’s talking, it sure seems were pretty intimate a few minutes back. Which, we were not! But try telling that to these kids, who don’t you?
"C'mon, let’s go somewhere more private." Dylan says. His hands grab mine suddenly and tug me towards him. I follow him, not wanting to stay in the classroom where everyone’s staring at me like I’ve got three heads.
"I'll get you suspended—in the principal's office, after homeroom both of you!" Mr. McAllister shouts behind our backs as we leave the class.
Just before leaving the class though, Dylan stops, causing me to crash into his body. I pass him a confused look, silently asking what he’s doing. He smirks at me before grabbing my chin firmly and tilting my face towards him, and before I can think about what’s happening and try to control my actions, his lips are on mine. I gasp, shocked beyond belief. Dylan grabs this chance to slip his tongue into my mouth, and I give out an involuntary moan as it tickles the inside of mouth. The kiss, or whatever it was, lasts barely fifteen seconds before I succeed in pushing Dylan away, and breaking our kiss.
"You—"I begin saying, but he pulls me out of the class before I can say anything else. As soon the door of the class is closes behind us, I look up at him and start walking towards him, venom burns in every word I speak. "You asshole! How could you?! You knew everyone was watching. You knew everyone already had a hunch, and now, they think it's true. They think there is something going on between us. And now, thanks to you, I may even get suspended from the school! You asshole, I'm gonna kill you for this!" saying this I lunge at him, but he dodges right on time and I go headlong towards the locker.
I'm so sure that I'm going to collide with the locker head-first that I automatically shut my eyes up tight, getting ready for the hit. But it never comes. Dylan wraps his arms tightly around my waist and stops me from hitting it just in time. Then he turns me around swiftly and pins me against the lockers.
"Listen Alex, shut up. Just shut up, okay? Or I have better ways to make you do it." He sounds annoyed, a little pissed too. My mouth hangs open in shock, as his lips starts inching closer and closer to mine. My heart starts beating wildly against my chest. I stare into his blue-green eyes as he inches closer to me. When only about a few inches are left, he stops and starts speaking.
"And about the hunch that these students have, it’s about to be confirmed. There’s nothing going on between us—for now. But soon it will. I have my eyes on you Alex Rogers.”