The life of a girl with a bad boy

s onto the barbecue. We'll have some lunch, » Marisa state

m and homey - a sharp contrast to the freezing cold outside. I trail after Mom, rubbing

came out of one of those fancy home magazines I'm too broke to subscribe to. But despite its size, there's nothing cold o

up into the clear sky and I can almost taste the meat sizzling on the grill. My stomach growls in respon

d t

ing a sip of her wine as she sits at the kitchen island beside Mom. Dad and Jay

n my mouth to protest, but she cu

to come and join us. He can keep you company, » she say

s no big deal, but meanwhi

t her order and I

ol with his friends, I know for a fact that he is not to be messed with and if you do happen to be the unfortunate pers

with the snap of his fingers if you

aggerating a li

murdered by the guy, I'm also

e's a

's a h

solutely terr

n

ntion that h

the average girl would. Think tripping over my own feet, word-vomiting random facts

ping my mouth as I stare at her, hoping to God that

luck, that

t doe

insists, flashing me a brig

like i

kidding guys.

an escape plan, but she cuts me off ag

ning meant nothing. « He's had that sign hung up on his door since he was eight, » she adds, laughing lightly before turning back to

alk past the kitchen and down the hallway

be he's done a few bad things, broken a few rules, and beat up a

Rig

th more framed photos, most of which involve a young Blake posing with a gap-toot

u

ing, bu

t's a battered piece of cardboard with the words scrawled in thick, angry black marker, hanging by a single piece of

dn't

ith the hem of my hoodie, wondering if I should knock

f I hide in the bathroom

brave

d knock lightly. So lightly it's basically just a

pen so fast I stu

here

e Kn

he f

d a lazy, bored expression on his ridiculously handsome face. His dark hair is messy like he's just rolled out of bed, and his e

G

sion. Abo

in short-circuiting as I de

hing norm

hing

non-emba

out, my voice cracking embarrassingly halfwa

ck a smirk, and he leans against the doorf

e repeats, amusemen

me

» I mumble, tugging at my sleeves and trying very hard not

long beat

w, rough sound that somehow manages t

ht ? » he asks, tilt

bly, chee

epping out into the hallway. He's tall. Like, really tall

lean soap, leather, and som

fa

his chin down the hallway, si

e didn't notice the way I pract

a glance up at him and catch him already looking at me, a

ea

do