Page 9 of Little Devil

No one fucking cares.

But even as I think it, I know it’s a lie.

That’s all anyone cares about.

It’s pathetic.

It seems I’m just as pathetic as the rest of them, though, because instead of drinking the vodka soda I made myself just now, I lean over and pour it into the kitchen sink. 21st Century Vampire by Lil Huddy plays through the surround sound and I smile to myself at the lyrics, moving to grab a diet soda from the fridge. I pop the cap off the top and close the door with my elbow, damn near jumping out of my skin when I connect eyes with a strange looking guy I’ve never seen before.

“Jesus, fu–” I stop before I embarrass myself further and grab a hand towel from the counter, scrunching my nose while I wipe the soda from my hand and wrist.

He laughs quietly and I glare, crouching down in front of him to clean the mess off the floor. He’s leaning back against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets and his head cocked to the side, his messy hair falling over his eyes in a way that makes him look.. lost?

There’s no way he goes to Lakewood.

Or college.

That might be a little stereotypical on my part but come on, he’s wearing black ripped jeans and a faded black t–shirt, his arms and throat covered in a bunch of tattoos I can’t make out in the low lighting. Not only that, his hair is purple, for fuck’s sake – long, thick strands sticking up in all directions like he messed it up on purpose and left it that way. He’s got two silver rings in his nostrils and a diagonal slit in his eyebrow, and I don’t miss the nasty looking bruise beneath his left eye or the small cut on the corner of his bottom lip. As if sensing my eyes on it, his tongue slips out to lick the spot and I pull my brows in, oddly fascinated by the flash of metal in his mouth. That same mouth forms a dirty little grin and I lift my eyes up to his, quickly snapping my own mouth shut when I realize he’s caught me gawking at him.

Goddamnit.

I straighten up with as much dignity as I can muster and set my soda down on the counter, side eyeing him over my shoulder when I feel him staring at me. I have no idea who he is or who he came here with, but asking him what the hell he thinks he’s doing in my house seems a little rude and presumptuous, so I decide on a safer option.

Ignoring him.

“You need some help with that?”

I blink at the sound of his voice behind me, somewhat surprised he said anything. “Excuse me?”

“Your drink,” he explains, pushing himself off the wall to move in next to me.

He takes a clean cup from the stack and I frown at the ink on his arms, unsure what to make of him. The way he looks screams troubled loner boy, but the way he moves and handles himself screams fuck me sideways.

He’s not horrible to look at, not really, but he’s not what I consider hot, either.

Right?

Right.

“You think a lot of words for such a quiet little thing,” he says, looking over at me from beneath his dark lashes, and I can’t help but note the way he hasn’t taken his eyes off me in I don’t know how long.

“What makes you think I’m quiet?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Or maybe you’re stalking me.”

“Maybe,” he muses, smiling to himself while he hands me my new drink.

I raise a brow and look from him to it and back again, making him laugh. Knowing exactly what I’m thinking, he lifts it to his mouth and takes a sip.

“Happy?”

“Finish it,” I offer, reaching over him to take an unopened bottle of vodka from the side. “That way if you did put something in it, you’ll be the one on your ass tonight and it’ll serve you right.”

He laughs at me again but does as he’s told, necking the entire thing in one go before resting his elbows on the counter beside me. “Hey, Jordyn?”

“It’s JJ,” I correct him, not even bothering to ask how he knows my name when I didn’t give it to him yet.

---