**Authors Note ** : WELL HELLO! I am so sorry for the longer wait on this update. It was odd because I've had it planned out for days yet it took a long time to write. But it is about 700 words more than usual so… yay?

Also, in this chapter I wrote a section from Rachel's POV, I might be doing that, so… yeah… deal with it.

Usually in my AN's I like to address reviews and one person said that chapter 2 reminded them of Hush Hush. *facepalm* I had just finished reading that book the other day and now, re-reading it, it does seem that some of the things from Hush Hush has seeped into my work. IT WAS UNINTENTIONAL.

Anyways, thank you so much for the reviews, author alerts and story alerts, it makes me really happy I hope you all enjoy this chapter and leave me your thoughts! (once again pardon if I have any mistake, especially tense changes)

Chapter 3

"Come on man, just take the shot already."

"Shut up," Blaine grumbled, walking around the pool table examining the angles and possible shots he could take to sink the last solid he had on the felt. "Or I'll shove this pool stick up your ass." The guy he was playing against laughed thinking he was kidding. Blaine shot him a look and the man by his side, Kyle, nudged his friend warningly. Blaine had seen Kyle around Louis's many times so Kyle knew how he worked. One it was quiet besides the other natural bar noises of cheering and drinking, Blaine bent over the table ready to raise his cue.

It was a difficult shot because the eight ball was directly in front of his solid. The only way around it was to aim the cue ball so it hit the side, rolling back and knocking the solid into the left corner pocket. The problem was the solid was near the middle right pocket. A difficult shot, probably the hardest one Blaine has ever had to take but he positioned his hands confidently.

He'd been playing pool ever since he was 12 but perfected the game when he was 15 with an additional three years on top of that. He rested the end of his cue stick on his left thumb, pulling it back to aim with the right. "3-ball, left corner pocket." H called the shot; then took it. Blaine maintained his position watching the ball follow the path directly, hitting each target spot on. Only when the ball fell into the pouch did he straighten.

"Nothing left but the cue and the eight ball," Blaine smirked, looking at the table. His shot has been perfect but it left the cue ball in an equally difficult position to sink the only remaining ball. "Go on,"

His opponent ruffled his hair in distress, taking notice to his chances of winning the game. "How about a break? I could use another beer."

"If I was about to lose $500 dollars I'd need a beer to. Stay in my sight though," Blaine's eyes narrowed as he leaned on the pool stick. "I don't want you running off because you might be short on cash after this."

Catching his subtle threat, the man nodded and stumbled toward the bar, Kyle alongside him. Blaine kept his advice of not drinking too much before taking a high-risk shot in pool to himself. It wasn't only about his pride and that he'd never lost a game since a certain opponent three years ago but also because he needed the money for important things.

Blaine slipped his cell phone out of his pocket, taking a sip from his own beer. His 'advice' didn't apply to him because it took about three to get him buzzed, straight up beer. Once he exceeded that number and people started mixing stuff drinks was when he began to get screwed.

He looked down at the crappy cell in his hand. It wasn't the latest model, not even the model before that one, but it worked when it needed to and that's all he cares about. No New Messages. No Missed Calls. Blaine scoffed and slid the phone back into his jeans. So predictable, he thought. He knew she wouldn't call as well as he knew that she was probably fuming over him and his move to writing his information on her arm. He smirked at the idea of her trying to furiously wash the ink from her skin. After one day and he had already marked her, not the way he had planned but it was a step in the right direction. Tomorrow when he went to English he wasn't going to say anything to her, and would wait. He knew at first she'd see it as a blessing but it would drive her mad and soon he'd have her in the palm of his hand.

The thoughts going through his mind were driving him nuts, thinking about her tiny frame and how delicate it looked; as if it would break if someone thrust into her repeatedly, holding onto the hips that were just the right size to give her shape. He couldn't stop himself from wondering how hot and tight she would feel around him.

"You okay there man?"

Blaine's head snapped to the source of the voice talking to him. A boy about a year or so older than Blaine stood off to the side giving him an odd look. "Yeah, what's it to you?" Blaine returned to look, scrutinizing wondering what it was about the boy; something about him was off to Blaine.

"Nothing," The boy shrugged and turned his attention away. "Looks like your competition is coming back. Good luck."

Blaine's eyes diverted toward his opponent who was returning now, looking somewhat more confident than he had when he had left. Alcohol, Blaine thought. Then he remembered the stranger and turned to see him walking away, through the crowd before disappearing. "You ready to lose?" Blaine asked, not giving the stranger a second thought.

"Alright Alex," The man, supposedly Alex, said to himself. "Let's finish this. Eight ball- right corner pocket."

Blaine rolled his eyes. Alex was a good pool player; he'd sunk all his stripes before Blaine had done the same with his solids but only because he managed to get one step ahead of Blaine.

Blaine watched as Alex lined up the cue and he had to control his smile. It was aimed too high above the correct spot to accurately sink the eight ball. Of course he didn't say anything, just watched as the cue ball skewed from its target, hitting its side. The eight ball rolled lazily a few inches, but nowhere near the pocket that Alex called.

"You just lost $500," Blaine said, shaking his head at the pathetic mistake. Alex had lined up a near perfect shot for him, and he sunk the eight ball, winning the game and the cash in no less than 30 seconds after.

Setting the cue stick against the table, Blaine crossed his arms and waited for the money to be handed over to him. When Alex didn't automatically go for the money, Blaine raised his eyebrow. "Problem?"

"I'm not paying you," Alex slurred.

"What?" Blaine snapped, his eyes narrowing and his arms tense at his sides.

"You cheated."

"You're fucking drunk. Hand over my money."

"Blaine, let me take him home," Kyle said, sensing the tension and stepping in. "I'll make sure you get that money, it just won't be tonight."

"Fuck you, Rickson," Blaine spat, shooting a stay-out-of-this look his way. "I need that money tonight and I need it now."

"You're not getting it!" Alex stated, throwing his hands up in the air as if that was the end of it. But Blaine wasn't about to let him walk away nor was he about to try and settle this the easy way. He lunged for Alex, bringing his already clenched fist down on the other guy's face. That's when Kyle stepped in, shoving Blaine back and he succeeded, but Blaine didn't stay back going in for a second blow. Three guys near them joined in, trying to restrain Blaine and Alex before it turned into a full out brawl. "Get the fuck off of me!" Blaine growled, fighting the guys off of him. When he was freed, Blaine turned and grabbed the pool stick he had used during the game. Stepping on the end of it, he pushed his body weight down snapping it in half. Gripping the larger, thicker part of the stick, Blaine held it threateningly, "Give me my money, or I won't make light on my promise from earlier about shoving this up your ass."

"I already told you-" Alex made a move toward Blaine, but it was the wrong move. Blaine swung and the side of the make-shift club hit the side of his head. Not hard enough to knock out, but enough that he fell to the ground disoriented.

"ALRIGHT THAT'S ENOUGH!" The bartender, Ben, someone else Blaine knew well from spending all his time at the hall, had stepped from around the bar to break up the fight. "What the hell is going on here Anderson?"

"Nothing," He growled, still staring down at Alex who was barely able to lift his head.

Ben glared at him. "How much does he owe you?"

"Five hundred."

Ben reached down and hauled Alex up by the shoulders, pushing him against the pool table to keep him standing. He dug into the man's pockets pulling out his wallet and then a wad of cash. Ben counted out a few bills before handing them over to Blaine.

"I said he owed me five hundred," Blaine said holding up the cash. "This is only $450."

"You owe me 50 for the pool stick," Ben said, tucking the other bills into his pocket. He grabbed Alex and thrust him in Kyle's direction. "Get him out of here. Anderson, I think you're done for the night too."

"Or what? You going to kick me out?" Blaine challenged. Ben gave him a look and he knew that there was no way the man would force Blaine out of his pool hall. Something caught his eyes across the room and he looked past Ben. Standing in the doorway of the hall that led to the back, was the hooded stranger that had talked to him earlier. Now from a further view Blaine noticed his stance, how he held himself and how his feet were firmly planted but also light as if ready to flee at any moment. "Never mind," Blaine said suddenly, to the bartender. "I'm leaving."

~~beat~~

Rachel sat in English eyeing the empty seat next to her. Blaine hadn't shown up yet but Rachel knew she shouldn't get her hopes up. That boy was trouble, big trouble she knew right away. He was probably going to end up being worse than Noah, and Rachel had barely been able to fight him back off of her. Blaine seemed too persistent but Rachel told herself not to give in, he was looking for nothing more than someone to play with than throw out when he got bored. She was going to be that girl. Besides she had Finn. Someone who cared for her and respected her wishes to stay abstinent.

Just on time, about fifteen minutes into the period, Blaine walked in. He had his hands stuck in his pockets and his gaze was somewhere not in the room. The substitute they had that day attempted to stop him and send him to the office for being late, but the boy just ignored the teacher and took his place beside Rachel. The substitute gave up and walked back to his desk, giving them their assignment to work on the project they were given the day before.

Rachel groaned, bringing her hand to her forehead. She despised the boy sitting next to her, and now having to spend the entire period trying to get him to work with her would be nothing but full of lewd comments. She glanced down at her arm, the faded letters and numbers that Blaine had written there yesterday were still visible. She had tried her best to wash them off, but permanent marker had its name for a reason.

Realizing it had been about five minutes since Blaine had walked in and he hadn't said a word, Rachel turned to him and gave him a curious look. "What's wrong with you?"

Blaine ignored her, closing his eyes. "Hello!" Rachel hissed. That's when she noticed white strings exiting his hoodie. Reaching over, Rachel ripped the ear buds out of his ear, "You can't listen to music in school Anderson, and we need to work on this. Better to get it done in school."

She was surprised when all she got was a cocked eyebrow and a look that suggested she was nuts. Blaine calmly took the ear buds from her, shoving them into his jacket. Without a word, Blaine stood and walked out of the classroom.

Rachel stared after him dumbfounded. What nerve! She thought. Coming in late, staying for not even ten minutes before walking out without saying anything.

"What is with him?" Someone said from across the room. Rachel turned her head in the direction of the voice, staring at two girls she recognized to be on the volleyball team. "Have you already driven him away Berry?" One of them sneered. "Are you really that much of a prude?"

"Who cares about the quarter back," The other one grinned. "Or Puckerman. Fawning over them has gotten old. Blaine's a cutie."

"Go after him then, I'm sure he'll take you even though you're both gigantic," Rachel snapped, referring to their height of six feet. "He's pretty desperate."

"Explains why he's going after you then doesn't it?"

"Shut it, Mellino! Or do you want everyone to know exactly what you were doing in Miami last spring break?"

Rebecca Mellino's face blanched. "I was partying like everyone else. There's nothing wrong with that."

Rachel gathered up her books and stood, facing the girl. "I heard that you got pregnant. That's why you were gone for a while, getting it aborted weren't you?" Rebecca's mouth dropped as the cheerleader spilled her secret for the whole classroom to hear. "As much respect as I lost for you when I found out, I lost more when you decided not to take responsibility for your actions." With that Rachel spun on her heel.

"Can I be excused?" She asked the substitute sweetly. "I'm not feeling very well."

The substitute gave her a half-nod, apparently not caring. Rachel thanked him quickly and sprinted out the door. She stopped by Finn's locker, leaving him a note saying she'd left school early, before going to her own and grabbing her stuff. Rachel wasn't the type to skip school but she could always convince her mom to let it go just this once.

She twirled her keys around, making her way to the back of the school. Just because she was a class-A student didn't mean the secretaries would let it slip by so easily. Rachel shoved one of the back doors open, only to have it nearly rebound back in her face.

"What the-!"

"FUCK!"

The voice on the other side of the door finished Rachel's sentence and she exited the building rounding around to spot no one other than Blaine standing there next to a motorcycle. He was glaring at the side of it, and Rachel knew right away that it was the bike she had hit. Blaine didn't look too pleased.

"There's a whole parking lot full of spaces," Rachel said, breaking the silence. "You know maybe if you parked it there, you wouldn't have this problem."

Blaine looked at her but didn't say anything. She couldn't read the expression on his face; it was a look that seemed crafted and perfected over years to be so inaccessible. He broke eye contact first and swung his leg over the motorcycle.

"Are we really going to do this?" Rachel asked, crossing her arms. "Are you that immature to give me the silent treatment? We need to work on this project."

Blaine turned the key in the ignition, and when Rachel went to say something again, he revved the engine, the roaring completely wiping out her voice. Blaine smirked, doing it on purpose.

"Whatever," Rachel scoffed, turning around and making her way to her own car. She heard Blaine's bike rev up again, before he sped past her and out of the parking lot. Rachel cursed, the sudden breeze from him making her Cheerio skirt fly up. As she got in the driver's seat and made her way home another string of profanities left her mouth, almost every other word being the name, Blaine.

~~ beat ~~

"She keeps looking over here,"

"Good." Blaine mumbled, lighting the cigarette that was hanging between his lips. He was lying on the table that the "Skanks" had under the bleachers, with his feet planted on the floor.

"She's doing a good job of hiding it though," Quinn said, peeking through the bleachers were the Cheerios and football players were hanging out on the field. "Hudson doesn't even notice. Then again he's too busy staring at Santana's ass."

"That guy's an idiot," Blaine chuckled, sitting up. "I could undress her right in front of him and he'd be oblivious."

"Is that one of your kinks?" Quinn taunted. "A threesome with the quarterback and his cheerleader girlfriend?"

"You've got a big mouth, you know that Q?" Blaine pointed his smoke at her, as her walked to stand beside her. "But of course I-"

"You make one more comment about our night together and I'll tear you apart so badly that you'll never get a blow job from anyone ever again."

"You're no fun," He scoffed, following her line of view. Rachel sat amongst a group of about ten other cheerleaders and jocks. He could tell just by the way her head was angled that she was able to look over at the bleachers by only shifting her eyes. She must've seen him now, standing beside Quinn because she began to engage herself in a conversation with a boy to her left. They were laughing about something and the next thing Blaine knew, she was rolling on top of him in a hug.

"Who's that?" Blaine nodded at the boy-cheerleader.

"You don't have to worry about Hummel, he doesn't swing that way."

"I don't care which way he swings I just wondered who he was."

"Kurt Hummel," Quinn said distastefully, shooting a dirty look in that direction before turning her back on them. "He and Berry are best friends."

Blaine turned to look at Quinn, noticing her behavior. "You don't seem to like him very much, Q. Did something happen there?"

Quinn faced Blaine and gave him a look that was worse that he had ever seen anyone give him before. It was a look of such pure disgust that Blaine almost didn't pursue the subject, but his curiosity wouldn't let him leave it alone. "What is it?"

"Gross," She said softly, bringing her cigarette to her lips. "There's an entirely different back-story to me and Hummel. Something I prefer not to talk about."

"That bad?" He laughed.

"He's my brother."

"You're lying," Blaine said after a moment. "You two are polar opposites and have different last names."

"Our parents got into a really bad divorce summer before freshman year. He went to live with our dad and I stayed with my mom, adopting her maiden name. It hurt us both pretty bad. He decided to deal with it by finding friends, I did drugs." Quinn shrugged. "It's not a big deal, we pretend like we're not related and so does everyone else.

"Huh," Blaine looked back at the group and noticed that they had begun to disperse. Kurt and Rachel were walking in this direction, so he nudged Quinn. She turned and saw, scoffing. Picking up her stuff, and crushing the only-half gone cigarette beneath her heel, Quinn stormed out from underneath the bleachers, passing just as the two cheerleaders had arrived. Kurt didn't even look at his sister and Quinn didn't look at him either.

Blaine was about to follow suit and head for English when Rachel grabbed him. Spinning around, he gave her a look of amusement and curiosity.

"I'll be over tonight at 7:30," She said through clenched teeth. Blaine smiled at how difficult it seemed for her to say those words. "Even though I still find you absolutely aggravating Anderson."

"Wonderful," He said before walking away from her. "Don't forget to bring you're outstanding alliteration skills!" He called over his shoulder, laughing to himself.