Page 2 of Blinded By Love

Everything in fictional worlds are better than reality.

Nothing can compare.

“Now why would I do that when you can entertain me?” the boy asks, walking closer with slow steps.

As he comes closer I notice his features more clearly. He is beautiful.

The kind of beauty you notice in a crowd full of strangers.

When he grows up to be older I already know he will have no trouble finding someone to love and envy him.

He looks like the kind of boy I imagine whenever I read books. If only he was a little older and a lot nicer, like the guys I read about, then he would be perfect.

He has some muscle on him but he isn’t jacked or anything. He looks like he is still growing.

I stand up so that the boy can’t look down at me. The height difference between us isn’t super major. I’m standing at around 5’4 while he is standing around maybe 5’8.

I am pretty tall for my age. At school, I’m taller than most of the girls in my class which makes me kind of insecure along with the weight I put on from having diabetes.

“And how would I entertain you? You have nothing better to do? Do you not have a life?” I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t know that California girls can be such bitches,” he says, looking at me up and down with disgust in his eyes.

It makes me feel like something is wrong with me.

Is there?

Can he see the insecurities radiating off of me?

I can be nasty and point out everything that looks wrong with him which isn’t very much but I can still probably do some damage to his mental health by saying a few things.

He has a scar on the top of his eyebrow that I can point out. Or maybe his home life sucks and I can point that out and make him cry and leave me the hell alone.

I can be rude but only to people who deserve it like him.

“And what makes you think you’re entitled to have any opinion about me? You don’t even know me. For all I know you’re probably an asshole who just likes making girls cry for your own pleasure.”

He smirks down at me and leans closer. “You're right about making girls cry for my pleasure. It’s fun seeing girls cry over such simple words.”

Guys from California would never speak like this to me. Or at least where I live in California. Guys from my school are too pussy to say anything to girls in general. It’s usually girls who are rude and always have something to say.

“You’re sick. Have your parents never loved you or something? Probably not because they didn’t teach you how to be a decent human being, jackass,” I say before trying to walk past him but he grabs my wrist and pushes me against the nearest wall. My back hits the wall hard and I hiss as my shoulder stings. “Ouch, you little shit. Get your nasty hands off of me or else I’ll call the police and tell them you’re harassing me.”

“Listen here, princess,” he says, sending chills down my spine. He rests his arms on the wall near my head as he leans down so his breath is hitting my face. I can’t help but love how he smells. Like a woodsy cologne or something. “If I ever see you again, which I hope will be never, I’ll make sure you know what being hurt really feels like. Whatever stupid reason you’re crying is nothing compared to the way I’ll make you break,” he says, making me feel antsy. How he could possibly make me feel worse than I feel right now?

“You’re just a boy who’s never learned how to treat girls with care. You won’t do shit.”

And as if I thought him being this close to me was the worst thing he could do, he holds my jaw in his hand making my eyes connect with his.

Goosebumps spread across my skin and I shiver. I’ve never had a boy touch me and I hate how much his touch is affecting me.

I can feel butterflies in my stomach from his simple but rude gesture.

I hear all about how guys touch girls with care when losing their virginity like how my friend Nevaeh lost hers and the boy was super gentle and nice, giving her small caresses.

I know this boy is rough by the way his fingers dig into my jaw and make me look up at him. It’s like he craves control in every way possible and I hate how I am so easily giving him it.

I try to push him off of me but he doesn’t budge. “I’ve been through shit. Shit you wouldn’t even be able to comprehend in that pretty little head of yours. You don’t want to get on my bad side because if you do, I’ll fucking ruin you. You think just because boys in this town are little pussies that I’m not? You better fucking pray you never see me again,” the boy says, meaning every awful word.

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