Chapter Two: what's your name?
-.-
To say that Ryan Berry was pissed an understatement.
I braved myself to look up, and found his glaring eyes already focused on mine. I gulped, sending prayers and crossing my fingers behind my back. "S-sorry," I stuttered, and this wasn't me acting. This was me stuttering.
He didn't make any move, but I had a feeling that if I wasn't a girl, he would've swung his fisted right hand toward me and that thought kinda scared me. Okay, it scared me a lot.
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. Thank god, I thought. He wasn't about to yell at–
"What the fuck was that?" he hissed, but his voice boomed as if he was shouting his ass off, even though he wasn't. he then ugggh-ed to himself, as if the hissing had lifted some weight off his shoulder, and he started unbuttoning his shirt calmly, with me gaping not three steps away in front of him.
Holy cheese.
What is this, I ruined his shirt and now he was stripping himself down?
Oh my god, why hadn't I spilled my soda all over him a long time ago?!
I didn't have to look around to know that I wasn't the only one who was staring at the boy in front of me, but I sure had the advantage of seeing it this close. I could see how his rough fingers slowly pulled the buttons out through the holes, and I could gawk at his perfectly sculpted hands (sculpted hands?) that were now gripping at his shirt, ripping it off his body and leaving him with his navy blue undershirt.
And, oh motherfudger, did that undershirt look good on him. The stain didn't get to the navy blue shirt because the white shirt he had on before was hanging loose and also because the undershirt was basically glued to his skin, leaving every lines, every bumps of the abs that he had for everyone to see. It was as if he wasn't wearing a shirt at all, except that his skin was blue.
He kind of sighed when he saw that his undershirt wasn't ruined, and when he looked up through his eyelashes and saw me drooling over his body, his lips turned up into a barely-there smirk, but it was gone before I could fangirl over it.
"What's your name?" he asked, jerking his head at me as he balled up his stained shirt and threw it to the ground.
My mouth opened and closed several time like a fish, until I finally said, "Quinn Fabray."
"Well, Quinn Fabray," he murmured lowly, but I still could hear the slight warning in his voice, and all the alarms in my head began to ring. "Don't expect me to forget this little accident."
Well, good, because my goal was exactly to have him remember who I was, and nowing that the first step of my task had succeeded, the confidence in me grew back, my fear slowly dissipating. With this newfound confidence, I held my head high, though I still showed him what was left of the fear I was feeling. "Well, it wasn't entirely my fault that this little accident happened."
One of his eyebrows raised as if he was saying, "oh, really?" and he took a step forward. My instinct was to take a step backward, but I stood my ground, even when he leaned his face down. "You're saying it was my fault too."
A part of me wondered why Ryan even bothered to make a huge deal out of me spilling my soda all over him, because I had expected that after letting me know that he was pissed at me, he would probably just walk away and wait until I made my second mistake (which I would obviously do if this incident failed to make him hate me). But here he was, just a few inches from my face, his eyes shining with what looked like challenge, irritation, and whatever kind of expression it was that always stayed on his face.
I cleared my throat, leaning my face back further as I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "If you had been looking where you were going, this wouldn't have happened, right?" I said matter-of-factly.
He finally stood up straighter, but his eyes never left me. For a second, I thought he was just gonna leave and maybe, like I'd said, he would wait until I did my second mistake to finally did me good. But the his gaze moved to the can of soda that was still in my hand, and without a warning, he snatched it from me.
He studied the can for a while, checking if it still had some of the soda left, and then lifted his shoulder. "Well, Quinn Fabray, let's just hope that this would be the last time someone get showered with soda in the middle of the lunch room."
And then I just stood there, watching as he lifted the can up and dumped its remaining content all over my hair, and then walked out of the lunch room calmly.
I was still gaping when his footsteps slowly faded away, leaving me with soda dripping down my platinum blonde hair, and my dignity in shreds.
Oh, and that soda would surely leave a stain on my fucking hair.