Short chapter, so I'm posting the next one right after this. I have most of this story done already, it just need some revising. Review please, thanks
The next morning was more hectic than usual. The girl ogled and fretted excitedly over the boy on the couch while Monica cooked up a breakfast of eggs. The boy hadn't moved an inch from where I'd left him, and I noted with delight that the swelling had gone down sufficiently.
"You do know who that boy is, don't you?" Stacey asked, pointing her fork towards the room where he lay asleep as she chewed on a strip of bacon.
"No," I replied, running my hand through my tangled mess of blond hair.
"That right there is bad boy Dallas Winston. Has a pretty big record."
"Shut it Stacey, you're ruining it for her." Tracey reprimanded.
"I don't think she's so concerned with who he is girls, she just likes taking care of people." Monica explained, turning to hand me a plate.
"Not surprising," Adriana muttered as I took a seat next to Tracey.
About an hour later they left, and Monica did as well, to get some groceries. She handed me a switchblade, saying,
"If he tries to hurt you don't be afraid to use it."
I had only blinked in response. It was only then that I became aware that I easily could've aided a criminal who was running from the police. This time as I passed him, I sighed with discontent.
In the cracked bathroom mirror I observed a pale girl with plain features, plain brown eyes, and thick blond hair. There was still a scar above my eyebrow from a man who had slugged me with a beer bottle just before I managed to get out and call Monica to come get me. That had been one of the only bad experiences I'd had, surprisingly. It left me a little shaken for a few weeks, but then Adriana showed me how the very tip of her pinky had been sliced off in a vicious fight and I got over it.
Once I was dressed I went back into the living room to read. As the minutes passed he began to stir increasingly more. When he started to toss and turn, I shook his shoulders to wake him in fear that he would hurt himself.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled drowsily. He attempted to sit up, but the moment he put his foot on the floor and applied the pressure needed to stand, he sat back down with a grimace.
"I…I found you."
"Oh right." he muttered, scratching the back of his head.
I allowed him a moment to recover before questioning whether he wanted any food, to which he rudely declined. The girls weren't perfect, far from it actually, but they didn't cuss unless something bugged them. They had some decency.
"I'll have Monica drive you home when she gets back."
"I can walk."
He again attempted to stand. This time he was able. He limped across the room. Without thought, I rushed and stood in front of him.
"Stop, you're hurting yourself. Damnit, what would it hurt to sit here and wait for a ride?" I demanded harshly. "There's no need to be so...ornery."
He stared me down for a short moment before chuckling sourly. He turned and took a seat on the couch again.
"Alright then, I'm Dallas, you are?"
He wore a smirk.
"Ana,"
"I wonder if you're a real blond…"
To my relief, Monica came in just at that moment. I scurried over and busied myself with pulling objects out of the brown paper bags and putting them up where they belonged. Monica peered around the corner to see that Dallas was awake, and turned to me.
"He didn't do anything, did he?"
"He wouldn't have been able." I assured honestly.
"Good, I'll drop him off."
I raised my brows at the sudden anticipation she had acquired to get him out of our house.
"See ya around, Ana," Dallas called as he left. Monica was attempting to assist him, but I heard him cussing at her as soon as they were out in the hallway. I couldn't contain myself. I had to laugh. Poor Monica.