𝗢𝗡𝗘 - 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗢 𝗧𝗢 𝗔𝗡𝗫𝗜𝗘𝗧𝗬
•••
Some time in the future
The devil works hard but oh boy does Charlie King work harder.
His smile, oh my, that smile. Some would say he had the smile of a devil and by some, I mean everyone. It was literally his thing and it was true.
I know this for a fact because I would do almost anything just to see it again.
But that's probably half the reason why I ended up here, in emergency care with a broken wrist at 1AM the same week he tattooed me.
Fucking smile of the devil.
I guess you're probably wondering how I've ended up in this predicament, so lets go back eleven years to my second year at school, his first year here.
Eleven years ago
I was playing in the sandbox at playtime when the heartthrob of the class, Elijah, had come over and I could already feel the nerves creep up on me and this memory is what I like to call my intro to anxiety as it was the first time I recall feeling that creeping dread in my chest and stomach, the small shake of my hands and the thumping of my heart.
"Hey can I play here too?" His face was red and a sheen of sweat coated him as it was so hot outside. He had just been racing his friends, who could run the fastest. I nodded my head, my pale brown hair, lightened by the summer sun, slapping me in the face in the process.
"Thanks" he said, brushing his hair out of his eyes at the same time a blush crept up on his face. He was essentially the all American boy that girls dream about, like the type you used to see outside of Hollister, except he was five. With mousey brownish-blondish hair that covered his forehead and got in his eyes, he had soft features and blue eyes.
We didn't talk, in fact we just awkwardly played with the sand and made sand castles, our hands occasionally brushed each other making us look up at one another. It was peaceful until his friends made their way over after realising he was no longer beside them.
"Ew! You like her! Eli likes the quiet girl!" They chanted teasingly.
I'm not sure if it was more embarrassing for him or me.
"I do not!" Elijah defended himself
"Yes you do! You've been holding her hand" they began shouting again and suddenly we both became aware of how close we was standing together. "You like her!"
Eli took a step back and so did I. Actually I wanted to run and hide but the small step was all my legs would allow, anxiety keeping me rooted to the spot like a stubborn weed.
I wasn't fully comprehensive of what was happening until I was shoved onto the floor, Elijah shouting about how he doesn't like me.
I mean, how could he?
"I don't like her! She's weird! Look at her!"
His friends began to disperse not even seconds after I was pushed to the floor and it was Elijah, his best friend and I.
Still on the floor, almost in tears, he continued, "I don't like her, she's ugly" trying to convince his friend.
"You don't push girls!" I heard a mousy voice say and seconds later, Elijah was running to the teacher, his sand covered hand cupping his chin, catching the trickle of blood caused by, what I had later found out to be his tooth that had fallen out, or should I say punched out.
To do this day I'm still the only one that knows that his tooth was already loose and the verge of falling out regardless and that after it happened the boy, Charlie King, who came to my rescue had taken me to the nurse whilst my eyes were threatening to spill tears. To this day he's still the towns bad boy.
But to me he was Charlie.
Present day
From that day on I've been friends with Charlie, more like best friends.
Or at least as close as best friends as you can get to be with the bad boy. It started out with him just shoving people who bullied me, just making it look like they were random outbursts of anger, something teachers would question him about, worried about undiagnosed anger issues.
But pretty quickly it became more, we'd hang out at one another's houses after school and he'd put a smoothie in my locker just before lunch so I'd eat something whilst at school because he knew I hated the food here.
Unlike most best friends, we were never seen together in school or out of school and no one knew about our friendship and it's probably for the best that it stays this way.
I mean, Charlies never been seen with girls in school but its a known fact, or a known rumour more like that he sleeps around.
Thats how you know what you hear in the hallways at school is ninety percent bullshit. Never seen with another girl on his arm, yet he's allegedly slept with half the year group? Make it make sense. Not one of these girls who claim to be bedded by him could look you in the eye if you asked them what colour his bedroom walls are.
It's kind of weird that no one knows that I've had sleepovers with the bad boy, or that he and my mom baked brownies for me on my 13th birthday, but it'll most likely stay that way.
I didn't mind all that much anyway.
In school I wasn't popular but I guess you could say that I was known around school, everyone knew me by face and name but I never attended the various parties and I barely raised my hand in class and after Brooklyn, my other best friend moved away.
I don't exactly hang out with people in school but I wasn't a loner by any means so don't you dare think I'm a loser.
To be quite honest I don't even hate school that much. What I do hate though is that I spend my lunches alone in the art room or my english teachers classroom but I don't hate school despite that.
Probably my favourite part of going here is that we have a uniform, black trousers for boys, a white button up and the school's tie. For girls you could wear a black skirt, trousers or plain black dress. No trainers, no hoodies and no skinny jeans or jeans in general. The teachers didn't exactly enforce these rules however. As long as your skirt wasn't short enough to flash and the guy's tie's weren't being made to make nooses, the teachers turned a blind eye at the black air forces that stomped along the hallways.
And to be honest I looked pretty fucking decent in the uniform, if I do say so myself. The dress code meant I didn't have to find something new to wear every day and I didn't stand out too much since everyone was following the same rules. That and what I wore was flattering for me.
I wore a plain black mock kilt mini skirt that's probably a little too short, with different variations of white button ups tucked in and changed between vans, dr martens and platformed black loafers that made me 5'3 instead of my usual 5'1-ish height. I could use the extra height. Sometimes I wore different skirts like black tennis ones or skater skirts but that was what I wore five days a week.
Today it was vans, mock kilt and a silk white long sleeve button up shirt.
Most girls, or at least the "popular" ones took the opportunity to wear bodycon dresses but who was I to judge? I'd probably wear one too if I wasn't crippled with anxiety and the tiniest touch of body dysmorphia.
Making my way through the hallways, before heading to the art room to catch up on some work as it was lunch time, I spotted Charlie passing by. He offered me a small smile and a head nod, nothing too crazy. He was only reassuring me of what I already knew, my smoothie was awaiting me.
I dread to think how much he's spent over the years on these smoothies, I try to pay him back but he never accepts my offers, saying he doesn't need the money. His mom was an interpreter and translator at the nearby hospital and his dad worked as an engineer at the family garage where Charlie also worked occasionally if they needed someone to cover a shift, so I guess you could say they weren't too bad when it came to money, especially considering his dad specialised in vintage cars that carried a hefty price tag to be repaired and restored.
Charlie lived in an average middle class house that could be viewed on the slightly larger side and it was in a pretty decent neighbourhood, like the street lamps never flickered in the dark winters and in the summer children's laughter could always be heard.
I on the other hand, lived in a slightly smaller house, with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms. Although it was small, it seems a lot bigger, especially when you're home alone most of the time. At least the neighbours across the street looked out for me, which is promising since they're very protective of me because my mom looked after them when they were younger.
I could barely get anything done in lessons. Between the time spent getting to class, setting up and then later packing away, it didn't leave much time to be productive. I was just starting the sketch of my new piece for my art class.
On the verge of pulling my own hair out and snapping the pencil out of sheer annoyance, Charlie popped his head through the door.
"They didn't have your usual so I got you that mango one you said you liked a while back, is it okay?" He asked, a fleeting look of worry crossing his face.
"It's perfect, Thank you" I smiled genuinely at him and his worrisome look seemingly fades away as if it was never there to begin with.
"Good, I'm going to head out and get some of that pizza they're serving, might even shove some kids in the process. I'll talk to you later" flashing me his infamous smile of pearly white teeth, he left closing the door, leaving me alone with my pencils, smoothie and hatred towards the art on the page.