;)
Chapter 2
"That looks illegal."
I look over my younger brother's shoulder as he pours some type of gray powder into a small canister. He sits at a desk in the corner of our shed, surrounded by tools and equipment that he refuses to tell me how he got. I ventured back here in order to tell him it was about time for us to leave. Since waking up about half an hour ago with a killer headache, the morning hasn't been going great.
He doesn't glance at me when he answers. "It's not illegal."
"It looks like a bomb. Or a grenade." I note.
"It's not a bomb. Or a grenade."
"Then what is it?"
"Mmm…secret."
I roll my eyes. "Well, try setting off your "secret" in actual secret this time. The principal already suspects you have a plan to bring down the school; please don't give him anything else." I bop him on the head. "Get moving, it's time to go."
I ruffle his hair and retreat back to our house, not bothering to check if Gazzy has left the shed yet. Inside, dear mother has already left, though a large "Don't forget you're grounded" note sticks to the fridge. I growl and rip it off.
"Someone's in a bad mood." A snickering Gazzy approaches and grabs a soda from the fridge. "Did you miss curfew again?"
"It wasn't my fault this time."
"Course it wasn't." He chuckles and turns around, but stops dead when he sees me. "Holy shit what happened to your face?"
I give him a look. "Don't fucking swear. Plus, I know I'm not the prettiest, but please, refrain from pointing that out every morning-"
"No, seriously, what did you do?" He pokes my temple. I wince as a spark of pain ignites, leading to what will probably be a headache. I slap his hand away.
"Hey, hands off!" I walk to our bathroom and examine myself in the mirror. There, sitting a blue and ugly as ever, is a bright purple bruise spanning the length of the right side of my face. From my forehead to my chin.
Holy shit. How the hell did I not notice that when I was in the bathroom earlier? I mean I get I was tired, but damn that's a big bruise.
I lightly touch the mark, careful not to put pressure on it. When did I get this? I didn't know you could even get a bruise that big. Did I hit it on something? Actually, scratch that, it's obvious I did. So not did I hit it, but on what? I think back, trying to remember if I hit my head on something at any point. The only possible time I can think of would be last night, when the guy attacked me.
I groan when I remember the oh so lovely throw into the road. The way my head slammed against the asphalt. If that's the case, than I'm surprised a bruise is all I got.
Fuck that guy. If I wasn't on horrible terms with the cops, I'd report him. He moves too quickly, too calculating. Like he already knew what I was going to do before I actually did it. Like he anticipated how I would react. My reflection suddenly looks much weaker, as I remember how effortlessly he tossed me around. As if I were a ragdoll. As if I weren't captain of several sports teams and strongest girl in my gym class. What kind of guy, even one that was taking on a person not in the best shape, would be able to just throw them across a parking lot?
Like I said, fuck that guy.
I let my hair out of it's ponytail, covering the bruise. "Huh. I must have hit it yesterday at school." I turn around and walk back to Gazzy, not looking him in the eyes. "I ran into a locker while Nudge was talking." The lie falls flat, but he doesn't question it; he probably assumes I got into a fight and don't want to get in trouble.
"Ok weirdo." He cracks his knuckles. "Now, I was just wondering, could I use your alarm clock?"
I stop. "Why would you need my alarm clock?"
"Well, since you asked…" He pushes his goggles into his hair. "I need to use the battery so that I can-"
"Nope NOPE NOPE!" I shush him. "I refuse to be held responsible if you blow up the school, and therefore will not provide the materials." I leave him gaping as leave the house and approach my car. Once we're both in, he renews. "Ok, so what if I didn't ask? What if it just casually went missing one day?"
"No. Not doing that either. We" I ggesture between us. "Are not partners in illegal crime."
His gaze locks on my arm. "Woah, what happened to your hand?" He grabs my wrist and turns my palm upwards, displaying a large red did that happen? I bring it closer, examining the bright red scrape. I groan when I realize it must be yet another byproduct of last night.
"It's just a stupid scrape." I mutter, ignoring the questioning look that Gazzy gives me.
The rest of the car ride is spent in silence. That is, until we hit a road block about ten minutes form the house. I slow to a stop several feet from a barrier of yellow police tape.
"What the hell?" I hear Gazzy whisper. Without looking away, I smack his arm and whisper "language!".
Right smack in the middle of the road lays a white jeep, flipped on it's side. The driver's door appears to be missing. No, wait, it's just sitting in the ditch opposite the driver's side. What makes me gasp, however, is the very visible streak of red on white that stands out on the side of the car. Police cars surround the area, along with a news van, though no one is really doing anything; the cops stand around talking to each other while the newscaster sits on the hood of her van.
Holy shit…what the hell happened? I drove this road last night, and I sure as hell know this wasn't here. I know very few people that drive this road. Only those that live in my neighborhood, which is in the middle of nowhere, come this way, and none of them own a white jeep.
"Holy shit." Gazzy mutters. This time, I don't correct his language.
A cop finally notices us sitting idly and marches over, ducking beneath the yellow tape. He approaches the car and motions for me to roll down the window. "Sorry ma'am, but you're going to have to take the detour- oh, It's you two."
I scowl at the cop, the one who seems to have it out for Gazzy and I. He's one of the youngest on the police force of our little town and has somehow made it his mission to get both of us sent to juvie. The guy isn't even that much older than me, yet he looks down on us like we're five. He also seems to have a permanent stick up his ass. "And what do you mean by that, Jeff?"
He glares. "It's Officer Graves to you, Max. And what are you two doing out here? Planning on blowing up another science wing?"
"That wasn't me!" Gazzy abruptly yells across me; I wince as he does so right in my ear. "That was due to smoke clogging the ventilation system, it's not my fault that the whole thing caught on fire! It was after hours anyways, no one got hurt; I mean, minus that one janitor, but he's fine now-"
I shush him. "Gazzy, stop. It's not like he's going to believe us anyways."
Jeff glances at my car and suddenly backs up. "What's this on your roof Max?"
I roll my eyes. "It's called paint. It's obvious you haven't heard of it, given how rusty your piece of junk is-"
"It looks like blood." He says, sounding surprisingly uneasy. "Where did this come from?"
Blood? No way. I slowly get out of the car and look to where Jeff is pointing. Sure enough, there's a dark red smear standing out against the blue paint. It's dark enough that I wouldn't have noticed it unless I had really been looking, which explains why I didn't notice it earlier. "I have no idea."
"What happened to your head?" He points to my very visible bruise. "That looks fresh. Probably happened recently."
No shit, it happened last night, but my mother didn't believe me. Jeff hates me too, so I doubt he'll be any different, but just to humor myself… "I got attacked last night. On this road. Dude slammed me against the side of my car and threw me on the pavement. It scraped my hand; that must be where the blood's from."
"You were on this road last night? What time?"
I mistake the look on his face for intrigue. "Uh, probably about eleven. Eleven thirty. I got home at midnight. Anyways, this guy is just standing in the middle of the road and he just flat out attacks me and I did nothing. Well, I mean, I did almost hit him, but that was his fault-"
"Max, I'm going to have to ask you to follow me."
I raise an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"
"Police station. You know, there were some strange tire marks in the road right near that white jeep, and the boys and I have been trying to figure out all morning what could have caused them. I bet if we compare them to your car right here, they'd match."
"What tire marks? I don't know what you're- oh. When I saw the guy in the middle of the road, I accidently spun the car to get around him."
"Uh-huh. Either way, you're coming with me."
I don't like the way he suddenly moves forward, almost backing me against the car, but am careful to keep my face expressionless. "Are you accusing me of something?"
He remains expressionless, but I see the delight in his eyes from possibly having caught me doing something. "Last night, a girl was driving down this road and something caused her to hit her breaks and flip the car. Whatever that thing was, they pulled her from the car and attacked her."
"What are you implying?"
He wipes his face of emotion. "I'm not implying anything, Max; I just know that you're exceptionally active for a girl your age. Three varsity sports teams, captain of one of them; that requires you to be in pretty good shape. If I remember correctly, you also sent a boy to the hospital after a fight over a parking spot earlier this year."
"So what I'm hearing is that you think I caused this girl to flip her car and then pulled her from her car and attacked her?" When says nothing I raise an eyebrow, attempting to mask the sudden rapid beating of my heart. "Looks like they ripped the door clean off it's hinges." I nod to the jeep. "Do you suppose I did that too?"
His mouth forms a thin line. "All I know is that I have a distraught family in the hospital, waiting for the news that their daughter is either dead or on it's door. You're the only one that seems to be connected and have some type of knowledge of what happened, so you're coming to the police station with me."
I study him. I get he doesn't like me, what with the occasionally visit to the police station because of Gazzy and the town rumors, but this is insane. "So this is a questioning."
"Max, for once in your life, please do what you're told. I'm on a time crunch here."
I weigh my options. Go to the police station with Miss Daisy Sunshine over here and get to miss a little school, or piss him off but have to go the full day. Ehhh…"Fine. But I'm driving there. And after I drop my brother off."
"No, you'll come with me right now and I'll get one of my partners to drop your delinquent brother off at school."
My mouth falls open. "Excuse me?" I close my door in hopes that Gazzy misses this part of the conversation. "Who the hell are you calling delinquent?"
Jeff chuckles; the sound makes my hand tighten into a fist. "He nearly blew up his high school. I think that qualifies him as a delinquent."
I step closer (a whopping foot), putting us nose to nose. "You have no proof of that; no one does. It happened at night, a night at which he was with my family, in full view of the public."
"And who's to say he didn't plant something earlier that day that had a timer?"
"And who's to say you're not just trying to pin it on my brother because you hate me? You know Jeff, you've got a lot of nerve, accusing us both. I have no idea who shoved a stick up your ass, but leave my family alone."
"Haven't' done anything?" He laughs; my nose scrunches at the amount of condescending asshole-ness I hear in it. "I've been called to that school concerning you about three times in the past three months. Your brother's been the reason twice. You make my job harder, and you're both just delinquents that have no idea the results of your actions."
"Delinquents are one thing, but when you hold grudges and find up any excuse to get us in trouble, it's another. How about you take those accusations and shove them up your-"
I stop when I hear Gazzy's door open. "Max, just stop. I'll go with him." Gazzy says as he grabs his bag and gets out of the car.
"Wait, Gazzy, you don't have to-"
"It's fine. I won't tell mom either, just be back in time to pick me up."
I watch as my little brother slams the door, gives Jeff the evil eye, and walks to where the rest of the cops stand.
"You know, you just called my fifteen year old brother a delinquent. Do you know what that kind of thing does to his self-esteem? Not to mention at his age, where the hormones are running high and the self-esteem is running low. You want that kind of thing weighing on your shoulders?"
"I doubt he'll lose any sleep over it." Jeff states as we watch Gazzy high five one of the other officers. I recognize him as the one who always seems the nicest whenever we end up at the police station (which happens more often than I care to admit).
"And what am I supposed to do about my car?"
"That barricade will be up nearly all day, so your car should be fine. If need be, I can get one of the guys to drive it to the station."
I ignore that comment and it's implications, that this will take longer than an entire day. I quietly follow behind him (though not after very loudly slamming my door) and sigh loudly as he forces me to sit in the back of his cop car.
…
Once we reach the station, Jeff oh so gently hauls me from the car and ushers me inside the dimly lit waiting room of the police station.
I take a quick survey of the nearly empty room, save for a blonde guy in a white shirt lounging in one of the stiff chairs, long legs stretched out in front of him. He glances up when we enter, but looks away with disinterest when he sees it's just us.
I move to sit down in a chair two away from his; considering there's only three chairs in the entire room, it seemed like a good option. However, in one quick movement, Jeff has bent down and handcuffed my wrist to the chair arm. By the time I've realized what happened, he's already moving across the room. "Woah hey! The hell is this?!" I yank on the tiny chain, filling the small room with the sound of clanking metal. "Jeff!" I call after him, but he ignores me before disappearing around the corner.
I groan loudly and sink back into the chair, not unfamiliar with the treatment. However, it does kind of piss me off, considering I'm being treated like a thug instead of someone that got caught under circumstance. I close my eyes, imagining that instead of a dimly lit police station that smells like old coffee, I'm sitting on the beach, waiting to eat my snow cone.
"Did you do it?""
I nearly jump at the voice; in my daze, I had almost forgotten about the second person in the room. I open my eyes to find blondie's bright blue eyes staring at me. It only takes me several seconds to assume he's not here on a murder charge; he looks as cookie-cutter, boy next door as they come. Shaggy blonde hair, white teeth, dimpled smile, and even the white shirt. Innocent looking as hell yet still like a model.
Beautiful. Something in the back of my mind whispers.
"Did I do what?"
He nods to the handcuff. "Whatever requires you to be handcuffed to a chair."
"That does seem suspicious, doesn't it?" I rattle the chain again. "I didn't."
"What do they think you did?"
Persistent one, isn't he? "Why all the questions, huh?" I shoot him a smile. "Why're you in here?"
He grins, showing off those adorable dimples. He leans close to me, quickly covering the space that the chair between us occupies. "My question first."
I feel the corner of my lips twitch. Hmm…I think I like this guy. "Guess."
"Well…" He makes a show of sitting back and studying me. "Considering you're handcuffed, I'm going to assume that you're not here for a traffic violation."
"Is that why you're here?"
"As a matter of fact, yes; though it's not my ticket."
"Then who's is it?"
"Nope; I answer your question. Now you."
"So demanding." I sit back and crack my knuckles. "I'm here because Jeff over there thinks I ran someone off the road and attacked them in the middle of the street."
If he's surprised he doesn't show it; his face only reveals vague curiosity. "Did you do it?"
"You're actually asking?"
He doesn't move. "Did you?"
I shake my head. "I already told you. Of course not. I may hate a lot of people in this town, but I wouldn't kill them."
"So you don't like most people." He says matter-of-factly.
"Am I being interrogated right now?"
I get yet another peak of that dimpled smile. "Sorry, I'm just curious. Nothing ever happens around here, so an attack is interesting."
I raise an eyebrow; interesting was not a word I'd use to describe the situation, but alright then. "What's your name? Do you live around here? Because no offense, but I've lived here my whole life and I've never seen you before." Baby blue eyes, boy-next-door smile; no, I'd definitely remember his face.
He chuckles. "Dylan. Dylan Summers." His hand raises several inches, but then falls back to his side in defeat. "I'd shake your hand, but it's currently attached to that chair."
"Ha-ha." I laugh dryly at his joke.
"I know, funny right?"
"Very. Max. Max Ride. I'd shake your hand" I give a tight smile "but I don't shake hands."
He grins. "Cool name; it suits you." He pauses, as if debating on something. "As for your question, we've only been here about a few months."
"We?" As in there's more than one model living amongst us? Something flickers across Dylan's face, but it's gone so quickly that I can't comprehend what it was. "Yeah, my brother and I live together."
Ooh, so there's a brother. Damn, I need to get out more. Tumblr is ruining my social life. "And this brother is…older? Younger?" Cute? Hot? Look like a model also?
"Twin. Why do they think you did it?"
I raise an eyebrow. Subject change much? I didn't even get a chance to imagine two Dylans running around. "They found some blood on my roof. Plus the cops have always had something against me, so it's no surprise I'm their scapegoat. Especially Jeff; ever since my brother accidently setoff a miniature smoke bomb in the cafeteria and Jeff had to leave his house at 1 am, he's had a stick so far up his ass I don't even know how he walks."
"Your brother set off a gas bomb in his school?" Dylan asks incrediously.
I wave him off. "It was an accident; plus one of my friends is a really bad influence on him. Long story."
He chuckles. "Sounds fun. Why was there blood on your roof?"
I try to shift into a more comfortable position, but that becomes very difficult with my arm temporarily out of commission. "I almost hit this guy last night while I was driving home and when I, ever the good citizen, check to make sure he's ok, the asshole decided it'd be funny to throw me against my car and shove me onto the road. I guess I got scraped up really bad and accidently got it on the car when I was getting back in. Of course, no one believes me, so I guess it never happened right?" I laugh bitterly. "It's not like someone just got killed last night on the same road; it's not like that was probably going to be me." Dylan apparently doesn't find my joke funny however; in fact, I see a muscle tick in his jaw when the words finish leaving my mouth. "What?"
"Is that how you got the bruise?" He asks, teeth clenched.
My hand unconsciously reaches up to touch the purple mark; I had almost forgot it was there. "Yeah; he threw me against the road. Guess it banged up my face pretty bad."
"What did he look like?" He asks stiffly.
Angel of death. "Dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes." Dark attitude. "A cocky asshole. Why? Do you know him? Because I would really like to shove my foot right up his conceited little-"
"Max!"
Jeff suddenly appears in front of us, looking as if he's almost itching to throw his coffee mug at me. Well feeling's mutual buddy. "Oh, Jeff there you are! You missed me explaining the perfectly sound reasoning behind that smidge of blood on my roof-"
"Summers, you're free to go."
"Rude." I pout as he motions for Dylan to get up and leave. "You." He points a long finger at me. "You're coming with me." He then leans down and un-cuffs my hand, granting me my freedom.
"Whelp, looks like the public calls. I guess I'll see you around!" I wave at Dylan, who still has not moved from his position.
"So, Jeff." I start as we begin the long walk down the hallway to his interrogation room. "What do we have planned for today? Unwarranted generalizations? Radical assumptions? Actually" I pause, pretending to think. "Hopefully it's not the latter, because you know what they say about assuming: It's makes an ass out of you and-"
"Max, I am the furthest from in the mood for this today-"
"Well I mean you are the one that brought me here; if anything it's your fault. I could be in school right now, chatting away with my friends, but instead I'm in a dreary police station about to answer questions that you pulled out of god knows where-"
"For god's sake stop!" He spins around, giving me a look that stops me dead in my tracks. For a second, I don't recognize him. He looks scared. Why is he scared? "Do not do this today, please. I have a dead teenage girl and a distraught family on my hands and I absolutely cannot handle you on top of this."
"W-what?" I freeze. My breathing stops. "What?" I repeat. "I thought you said she was in the hospital."
He falters, as if he hadn't meant to say it and instantly regrets doing so. Jeff remains silent for several seconds, as if contemplating if he's going to lose his job for revealing anymore. "Yes." We've reached his usual interrogation room now. He rests his hand on the doorknob and sighs. "She died about half an hour ago."
I want to ask; but I don't want to know. Knowing means never not-knowing. "Who was it?"
"Lissa Hill."
The name doesn't register at first. Well, that's a lie. It does. But the implications behind it don't. Jeff watches my reaction as I finally realize what that means.
The name hits me like a tidal wave. Lissa Hill. Red-head Lissa. Outgoing, preppy Lissa. Lissa that runs around school all day waving that monster she calls a purse. Lissa who flips me off and hated my guts. Sure, she could be a partier and tended to move form guy to guy, but no one deserves that. No one deserves to die like that. Died. Dead. Gone. Never to come back. Hell, I almost died like that.
While I'm having my moment, I only half realize Jeff is studying me. All at once he yanks open the door to his interrogation room. "Wait in here." He ushers me inside.
"Wait-" I turn to ask him more about what happened, but he quickly slams the door. In my face.
Nice.
I sit heavily in the chair and stare blankly at the mirror across the room, that of which I have no doubt another officer is staring through.
Holy fuck; Lissa's dead.
And they think I had something to do with it. Oh my god, they actually think I killed someone. How could they possibly even think that?
Shit. Oh mother of shit. Holy mother of all that is shitty. How do I get out of this?
Why was Lissa even on that road last night? She lives nowhere near that part of town; when we were in elementary school I used to go to her house all the time, so I know for a fact she lives in one of the high dollar neighborhoods closer to the city. Actually, no one lives near me; well, minus the few partiers that like to stomp through the woods at night with kegs and speakers. Was that why she was there? Was there a party last night?
What happened?
I try to piece together as much as I can. Jeff mentioned that the murder had happened sometime between eleven pm and four am. Asshole confronted me at about eleven thirty. Lissa mentioned a party outfit; that must have been why she was on the road at that hour. She must've been coming come from whoever's party she was at. But what the hell happened to her jeep?
A chill runs through me as I realize what must have happened. Lissa must have made the same mistake I did: getting out of the car after thinking she had hit someone. Except…asshole must not have spared her like he did me. Although she could also have just crashed and veered off the road, or worse been drunk driving, I doubt that's what happened. If Jeff was suspicious of blood on my roof, then someone definitely attacked her.
I snap out of my thoughts as said cop walks back into the room, this time holding a manila folder. "What's in there?"
Jeff doesn't glance at me until he's seated. Then, he shoves the folder at me. "Records. Fighting records. Suspension dates. Statements from students, many of whom say that you and Lissa had a very rocky relationship."
I'm forced into a stunned silence for several moments. "Are you serious?" I grind out. He starts to stay something, but I cut him off. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?! A rocky relationship." I laugh bitterly. "That's complete shit."
"Is it?" He raises an eyebrow and makes a show of flipping through the folder. He makes an "ah" sound, signaling he's found something. I try to look at the page, but he angles it away from me. "If this is correct, you have gotten into several fights over the years with Lissa. This last one, what was it over? Some paint damage?"
"She keyed my car." I try hard to defend my actions, but the fact that the girl is dead right now makes that action pretty hard.
"And you gave her a broken nose and a smashed windshield. You've got to have some strength and experience to do that, Max."
Experience in what? Smacking a bitch when she takes her keys to my brand new paint job? The amount of stupid in the room is almost suffocating. "So…so let me get this straight." I sit up so that we're nearly nose to nose. "You find a little blood on my roof, go through my little records find some little evidence that I was in a little fight several months ago, and you suddenly think you have a case? I don't know about you Jeff, but that sounds pretty pathetic to me."
"Were you or were you not driving home last night at midnight, around the time that Lissa could have been attacked?"
"Ok, one, there is a four hour window for that. How you connect me to that is beyond me. Are you or are you not throwing around accusations based off of ridiculously tiny pieces of evidence, all of which are coincidental? Also, have you forgotten the fact that I was attacked last night too? Are we just going to discount that little fact?"
"Are you going to answer a question with a question?"
"Are you going to continue being stupid?"
If the balled fist in the table are any indicator, I'm pissing Jeff off. "The blood on your car, the bruise on your face, the scrape on your hand. What it seems like to me, Miss Ride, is that you were in a violent fight last night. You're a strong girl Max; strong enough to throw a small girl like Lissa from a car."
I see red for several moments and sputter. "My blood! My blood is on the car! I got fucking attacked last night by some little demon spawn while driving home! Instead of sitting in here and blaming me for something I didn't do, you should be out looking for that guy, because I bet my ass he's the one that killed her! He tried to kill me, hell he was probably trying to do other things too, but I got away, so he came back to the next person driving on the road! You know how I got this bruise on my face? He picked me up and threw me across the goddamn road!"
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that after you've continuously sent in false reports of people "attacking" you just so that you would be able to get by without missing your curfew?" The smugness in his voice nearly suffocates me. "Or how about the dozens of prank calls we receive down here at the station? Are those the work of this guy too?" I stare, speechless, as he leans back in his chair. "Like I said, you're a strong girl Max. Do you really expect me to believe that some "cocky teenager" was able to slam you into a car and throw you across a road? Better yet, do you expect me to believe a teenager was able to deadlift you and throw you through the air and across a two lane road?"
That fucking asshole. He was listening in on my conversation with Dylan. "You-"
"Ever heard of the boy that cried wolf? He reported seeing this wolf several times, begging someone to help him. Each time it was a lie. Then, when the wolf finally did show up, no one believed him."
My stomach drops to my knees. What the actual fuck is going on right now? "What are you even talking about? This isn't some fairy tale bullshit, you're accusing me of murder!" Jesus, when did I become the voice of common sense?
Jeff doesn't say a word, seemingly content with staring at me. Dick probably thinks he looks intimidating.
I reach up and angrily tighten my ponytail in an attempt to keep myself from screaming. After a several very long, very tense seconds, I let out an irritated breath. Then, clarity. "You have shit."
"Excuse me?"
"This is a waste of my time." The tips of my lips twitch as I fight a smile. "You need more than just circumstantial evidence in order to charge me with something. You need a motive, you need actual evidence, you need a weapon, and you probably need a witness. Do I look like I could attack Lissa enough that she would streak blood across her car and die?" Speaking of blood streak, "What even happened to her? Because whatever it is…" I think back to the animal look in the guy's eyes. "I can bet I'm not capable of it." I let that sink in for several seconds. "Am I under arrest right now?"
He thinks it over. After a beat of silence, he hesitantly answers. "Well, no, but-"
"Then I'm leaving. Maybe I can find some cops that actually know how to do their job." I walk away from the table and start to open the door, but a hand slams it closed. I turn around to face a very ticked off Jeff. "Did I say you could leave?"
I smirk, knowing he's got nothing. He knows it too. "Unless you want to formally charge me with something, you can't legally keep me here." I smirk. "You forget I've been through this several times." Realizing there was realistically nothing he could do, Jeff huffs and grudgingly backs up. I give him a cheery smile followed by my middle finger before leaving the interrogation room.
"We're going to test the blood on your car; I hope you realize that."
I spin back around and throw my hands in the air at his petty attempt at showing some power. "Do whatever you want; all you're going to have is a sample of my blood and your ass on probation because you didn't follow up on my story of what probably did happen last night."
Piece of shit. I think to myself as walk back to the waiting room. Handcuffs me to a chair, drops the Lissa bomb, accuses me of murdering her. What's next? Is mom going to hug me? Are pigs going to fly? Are-
I let out a small, unfortunately very-girly shriek when I nearly run into Dylan as I round the corner. He's no longer sitting in the blue plastic chairs, instead choosing to lean against the wall, his head turned towards the hallway. "Fuck, don't do that!" I punch him in the arm (and then internally wincing when I hear a few knuckles pop). In doing so I realize just how tightly his muscles are bunched up, as if he's going to pounce on something any second. "Hey, are you ok?"
In a second he's snapped out of it. "Me? Yeah, I'm fine."
I raise an eyebrow but don't comment. "I thought you were leaving."
Dylan looks slightly panicked for a second, but quickly recovers. "I was, but then I heard yelling and decided to stay. I guess I just wanted to make sure you were ok."
Well, that's unexpected. "I can handle myself." I cross my arms over my chest. Dylan's eyes follow the movement. "I know. I can see that now. I guess I underestimated you."
I bite my lip; I looked scared? I can't afford to look scared. I silently curse myself for letting that emotion surface. "Well, I'm fine, as you can see."
We stare at each other in silence for several seconds, during which I, much to my utter horror, become slightly entranced by his eyes. A clear sky. Pools of blue. Everything that was bright is in those eyes. Everything good. But, if you closer, you can almost see past the color to something else. Something deeper. Something…almost unnerving. Just as I'm about to grasp what that image is, I snap back into reality. It's almost as if someone's slapped me, yet I haven't moved.
"-ax? Max?"
I blink, realizing Dylan's been waving his hand in front of me. "What? What are we talking about?"
He gives me what looks suspiciously like a smirk. "I asked if you needed a ride."
A ride? In a car? With him? What? "Why?"
He looks startled for a second, but I can't place why. "Didn't you ride here in a cop car?" When I don't respond he backtracks. "I mean, unless you have someone else bringing your car. I just didn't want you to be stranded here."
I didn't either. Damn, I hadn't even thought about that; I totally forgot my car was still at the road. I weigh my options for several seconds, but it's almost no use; no way am I swallowing my pride and going back in there to ask Jeff for a ride back.
"Actually, a ride would be great, if you don't mind. I just need to pick up my car and I'll be good."
He pushes himself off the wall. "I don't mind at all." He flashes me that million dollar smile again, and for some odd reason I feel my heart pick up a little bit as my breathing stalls.
Not beautiful. The voice whispers. Inhumanly beautiful.
Wow. That was insanely long. I may or may not have been getting carried away…
Whatever the reason, I thankfully got back around to updating this fanfic! You guys can thank one of my friends for that, she's my motivation. Hopefully I'll be able to update more now, but with my time on a crunch with last minutes projects and finals, I'll try my best!
Hope you guys enjoyed it! Until next time…
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