She is pretty.
She is mean.
She is violent.
She is Delila.

Horrified, I look up and back and forth between my brother and shy roommate. What the heck. "You're fucking with my brother?!" I gasp.

Oh my God, oh my God! I checked out my own brother. Iew! I have to burn my eyes.

"No, she's not." Vincent appears from behind him, sounding pretty confident "And no one is fucking with anybody."

I almost choke on my saliva, laughing at the horrified look on his face. "Sorry, my mistake." Prep boy and Miss priss probably promised to save themselves for their wedding night.

"Has she been mean to you?" Vincent asks while taking big strides towards her. Apparently, he thinks I'm the most horrible person on this freaking campus. He crouches down in front of her to rub her arms like a little child that just faceplanted a slide.

Instead of telling him to get lost and go fuck a cactus, I grit my teeth and turn to my brother. "If you aren't here to flush her pipes." Ignoring the scowl on Vincent's face. "Why are you here?"

"I thought you might be hungry and could use some company." He says.

A sarcastic laugh vibrates over my lips. "That's funny, you're funny. I'll give you that." I squint my eyes at him. "No thanks, I'm fine. I got everything I need."

I do have everything I need, for food I mean. Patience, God, I have to come up with a nickname for her, and I bought a kettle. She went all girly crazy and found matching teacups and soup bowls at the hardware store. How? I don't know either. We have a full stack of tea and instant noodles. Both in every flavor available on this planet and maybe even outer space.

Like we needed more crap added into this tiny shit hole.

"We're going," Vincent announces, breaking the ice-cold vibe between Ryder and me. He ignores me while out of nowhere Patience comes forward to hug me. What the fuck! My insides scream and I gently push her away.

I force my scowl into a smile for her and to show Fuckcent I'm not the bully in this room and say, "Have fun."

He laces his fingers through hers, begging her silently to hurry. I shake my head when she doesn't take the hint and he almost drags her through the door. What. an. ass.

I grab my phone and lay sprawled out on my bed, ignoring Ryder's presence. Stupid me forgot that he is the king in waiting games. He just stands there, leaning with one foot and his back against the door. His arms crossed over his chest and his blue eyes try to split my head in two.

The level of irritation flowing through my veins becomes dangerously high. I don't want to give into it and show Ryder the ugly person I have become. He knows about the rumors and that's everything he needs to know. I quickly get up before I burst, check my make up and grab my beanie, pulling it over my curled hair. "Let's go! You're paying." I grumble.

He took me to Freemans, looking all proud and shit. I don't know why though, can't be because of me. This place looks like it's kidnapped from the sixties. Silver-colored tables are surrounded by those famous red and white leather chairs. Coca Cola and Marylin Monroe posters filling the walls and of course a large red jukebox in the corner next to the bar. I wouldn't be surprised if the waitresses would come out rollerblading and do choreography on an Elvis Presley medley.

I get a few witch glares walking in with him. My dipshit brother got lucky with my father's genes and got the girls chasing after him since kindergarten.

I stare at the menu and they only have hamburgers with fries or a salad. I decide to go with the only one that isn't gonna give me a clogged artery. His dates must feel so special when the grease drips down their perfectly manicured hands. Or maybe they just eat a salad. Why the heck do I even care about his dating life, I don't.

He stirs the straw in his coke, making the ice cubes tick against the glass, before diving his blue eyes in mine. "Dad told me that you're gonna give lacrosse another chance. That's good."

Say what?!

Lucky for me, or him, the waiter serves our cardiac arrests on a plate. I must admit that they are the best I have ever had. Even the fries are finger-licking good. I catch myself smiling when I take another bite and pray Ryder didn't see it.

He finishes before me and takes that as an invitation to start talking again. "I saw your guitar in the trunk of the pickup. Are you still writing and playing?"

I keep on chewing, very slowly.

He sighs, stretching his arms behind his neck, showing off his ridiculous muscles. Fucking hell Ryder, I don't need more death glares from psycho girls. Put your arms down! I roll my eyes and sigh heavily, making him laugh. He ruffles up his dark brown hair and I swear I can hear some panties drop.

One girl, in particular, keeps glaring. I'm sick of it. Girl, this is my fucking brother. I put my middle finger in my mouth and slowly take it out, flipping her.

Ryder shakes his head and finally put his hands back on the table. Good boy. He taps his fingers against the silver surface, claiming my attention. "I know the lacrosse teams are practicing Monday and Thursday. I have practice at the same time on Thursday. If you like, I can come with some friends and hang out after. Maybe grab a drink."

He just lost it... how in the world is that a good idea? And no matter what my dad says, I'm not giving lacrosse another chance. Yes, I was a promising athlete, blah, blah, blah and all other bullshit. But no, I rather hang myself then having the hundred percent chance of being in the same team as Ava.

"Okay Dee, then you don't answer." He takes his phone out of his jean pocket and pretends to ignore me.

What does he think, that we're good? He chose our mother over me and now it's me, just me and nobody else. I'm the only freaking constant in my life and I like it. I don't need and want anybody in my life who says he cares about me, to show the total opposite. He already did that once and only fools burn themselves twice.

"You're crazy if you think you and I, are picking up where you left me to rot," I say it slow and low enough that nobody can hear me. "I'm not that lovey-dovey girl anymore Ryder and I'm good with that. Now if you will leave me alone like you did the past years that would be great!"

I rise to storm out when he grabs my wrist and glares, "I didn't leave you! You're the one that ignored me. The calls, the messages. The countless times I stood in front of a closed door after a six-hour ride. Do you have any idea how I feel, knowing that you were inside and chose not to open."

People around us are staring now and I realize that we look like a couple making a scene.

"Stop, talking." I hiss through my teeth.

"I'll stop if you'll stop this." Pointing at me. My tattoo's, piercings and clothes. "This is not you. You, looking and acting all tough is just....it's fake Dee! And the old Dee, the one that I know is still there, despised fake people."

I swallow to get rid of the lump in my throat, looking at the harsh line of his mouth. He releases his grip and I sit back, looking daggers at everyone who's still staring.

"I'm worried, Dee," He says, and he even looks like it too. What a beautiful act! He should make a career out of it.

I bite my tongue, literally, before I speak. I have my ways to relieve myself from my evil mouth. But once the water rises, I will drown someone. "This is me. Like it or leave Ryder."

"Yeah, Ryder! Leave this pretty girl alone. Can't you see you're not her type." Four guys, looking all puff, join our table.

Ryder sighs, "Mind your own business, Cole." He talks to this brown-haired Cole guy while keeping his eyes on me. His lips move slowly without a sound, spelling, don't.

"Come with us, baby. You're too pretty to hang out with a loser like him." He pushes Ryder against his shoulder. I'm clenching my fists to the point that I feel my nails cut through the skin. Another blond guy leans with his elbows on Ryder's shoulders, digging them hard enough in his skin to make him flinch.

God, Ryder shut those fuckers up or I will!

He shakes his head no, warning me with his eyes.

Yeah, tough luck, Ryder. Maybe another day. Now it's my time to play. Bad news, I'm not the one who is gonna lose.

"Did you hear that Ryder? He thinks I'm pretty." I give him an evil smile and rise, facing Cole.

Ohh, that stupid grin is about to leave your smug face, Cole!

I lean against the edge of the table and gesture with my index finger for him to come closer. His hands brush my thighs when he places them next to me. His eyes get drawn to my mouth when I lick and bite my lower lip, staring hungrily at them.

Men are weak, so weak to the touch of soft flesh.

His cologne is burning in my nose when I brush it against his ear. Ugh, the smell of it alone will make me barf. He has the nerve to grab my butt with one hand and I feel anger erupt in my veins.

"You know what, Cole?" I whisper into his ear. His voice is low and full of excitement asking me, "what?"

I move my hand up in his hair and yank is head back, kicking him in the nuts at the same time. Spitting at him, "I'm not your baby!"

He collapses on the shiny black and white tiles, being the only dirt on it, squirming and holding his precious junk. I hear some gasps. Some, what the hells and a few laughs. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I see the familiar ice-blue eyes belonging to the shower guy sitting with a group of friends before Ryder firmly grabs me by my arm and starts to drag me out of the diner. He gives me thumbs up and I grin to myself. At least he thinks it was funny.

"You know what, dee!" Ryder says infuriated walking towards his car. "Call me when you find my sister."

What the heck. "I was just helping you, Ryder!" I say agitated.

He shakes his head in disappointment and sighs, "The only one who needs help is you, Delila."

Automatically, my hand slides under my beany and I dig my nails into my scalp. I close my eyes and let the pain take over the anger. The sound of a closing car door takes me out of my ritual.

"What the heck!" I scream to the car, driving out the parking spot. "I'll never talk to you again if you have the fucking nerve to leave me here Ryder!"

His eyes meet mine for a second in the rearview mirror and I let out a sigh of relief when he stops. I walk at a quick pace toward him and slam my hands against the window when he locks the doors before my eyes. He glances at me and when I think he's about to open them, he drives off flashing me the finger.

"Fuck you, Ryder." I curse and take one of my Vans off my feet and throw it towards the car in some lame attempt to make him stop, cursing even louder when my shoe gets stuck between the window frame in the side mirror.

What a lovely day for karma to bite you in the ass.

"Fack!" I growl, when realization hits me that I have no idea where I am. I dig my phone out the pocket of my leather jacket and open Google maps.

"Just freaking awesome!" I grumble to myself. I'm more than a walking hour away from my dorm. Limping on the one shoe I have left, I begin my walk back to the tiny prison I have to call home.

"Need a ride?" A deep smokey voice asks.

I see a brown colored Volvo in the corner of my right eye, a station wagon to be precise.

Fucking hell, I don't have the patience to deal with some disgusting pedophile who isn't getting laid home.

"Fuck off!” I yell, without looking at the person driving at a slow pace beside me.

Stifled laughs make me glance towards the driver, to be struck by those ice-blue eyes.

"Hey, that your boyfriend is a douchebag doesn't mean that you have to take it out on your sexy knight in a towel.” He says, with the stupidest pout a have ever seen.

Unexpressed emotions will never die.
They are buried alive
and will come forth later in uglier ways.