Chapter 6

I guess you could call Adrian a bully, or my bully if you want to be more specific. At least that’s what I’d call him… and a few other words. He doesn't seem to bully anyone else, for the matter. Growing up, I’ve always been bullied and isolated from the other children, to the point where I actually got used to being alone all the time. It also helped seeing as my parents were never home, only the nannies and butlers who usually barely spoke to me.

The other children wouldn’t talk to me. According to them, I was weird, a word I’ve grown to accept, and ugly, a word that still doesn’t settle well with me. I don’t think any girl wants to fully accept the fact that they’re ugly because most of them have grown up their whole lives learning about Prince Charming and someone who will love them no matter what they look like. That’s why I’m not surprised to be sitting in the only empty room that I could find, waiting for my best friend to come to the rescue.

The darkness encased me and I felt comforted. The loudness outside the room seemed to stop when I closed the door. Afraid of sitting on the bed because God knows what happened there, I found a comfortable spot on the floor that was beside the dresser. I just sat there, clutching my cell phone between my fingers waiting for a text message from Jessie. I decided not to lock the door, because that means I’d have to get up to open it when Jessie got there and she’d rant about ‘rushing her to get here when the door wasn't even open.’ I heard the doorknob jiggle and my head automatically perked up.

Instead of Jessie walking through the door like I'd expected, a guy walked in and he flicked on the light, blinding me for half of a second. When I opened my eyes and regained my vision, I saw him standing there- looking away from me and around the room. His hair was brown and cropped and his eyes were gray. He was tall, very tall. He was obviously muscular and probably played a sport- not like I cared. I was in a bad mood, thanks to Easton.

The mystery guy looked bored yet annoyed as he closed the door behind him and turned to face the room. He was muttering something about ‘stupid drunken girls and stupid drunken people’ and I wanted to laugh. He looked at the bed and muttered something about ‘HIV infested’ and I put my fist to my mouth to hold back my laughter.

He walked over to a chair and tried to sit down while he plugged his earbuds into his phone but instead he fell down to the ground and muttered out a curse. I couldn’t hold in my laughter any longer. I laughed and his eyes darted to mine as I burst into deeper laughter, clutching my sides as I pointed to him and then to the floor as if to say what I was laughing at. Instead of walking over and kicking me in the face, like I would’ve done if I was in his place, he stood up and wiped off his pants while mockingly laughing.

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” He said, giving me a flat look. When I finally stopped laughing, he decided to speak. “How long have you been in here?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at me as I sat back up against the dresser. My attitude was back and I was annoyed.

"Obviously, longer than you have.” I replied, looking at my phone to see that it was 1:08A.M. I needed to be home soon and Jessie was nowhere to be found, not that I actually looked. I’ve been hiding away in this room for an hour and a half. I ran in here right after my encounter with Easton. And during that hour and a half, I’ve grown an attitude.

“Why?” He questioned me, still looking at his phone. I’m guessing he expected me to answer him nicely and politely- probably like the other people do. He seems popular, unlike me.

“Is it any of your business?” I asked my voice edgy. He looked up from his phone and furrowed his eyebrows.

“I was just asking,” He shrugged. “And I’m in here because I can’t deal with those people out there,” He said, motioning over his shoulder with his head towards the door. I just shrugged carelessly as I looked at my phone again, sending Jessie another message. "I usually don't come to parties. Unless, it's after a game, and that's only sometimes." 

“So, what’s your name?” He asked, in an attempt to keep the conversation going. I gave him a wary look. What was he up to?

“Fiona.” I replied, aimlessly thumbing through my phone. Did I care what his name was? Not really because once he figured out who I really was, he would probably rush out of this room. In fact, I was counting the minutes until I hear the door close and someone shouting from the outside about how insane the girl in the room he'd just left is.

“My name is Ethan Howell.” He spoke confidently. I'd noticed he has a British accent and unlike I'd normally do whenever someone has an accent of any type, I kept calm.  I nodded, shrugging. I felt my phone vibrate in my hands and I happily clicked on the new notification, excited that I'd gotten a response. Jessie told me to meet her by the car. I stood up, brushing off my pants and placing my phone into my pocket.         

“Well, as nice as it was to meet you- and it wasn’t all that pleasant, Ethan- I’ve got to go now.” I said, standing up. Ethan quickly told me to wait, retrieving something from his pocket.

“Wait, come here.” Ethan exclaimed, waving me towards him. I warily walked over to him. Of course I was nervous, he could've locked the door and had a pocket knife. He was obviously more popular than I am and could've been angry that I gave him an attitude.

The object was a black sharpie marker and he grabbed the top of my forearm and before I could begin to protest, he began writing his number onto my arm. I felt a blush spread to my face as I sighed, allowing him to finish with his name that was surprisingly written neatly.

The black sharpie stood out against my pale skin and pink and white outfit. I stared at him like he was crazy. I’m 99.9% sure he was! No normal guy writes his name and number on a random girl’s arm; especially one who was just giving him an attitude, might I add.

“You're the only girl I've talked to who didn't try and hook up with me. And I’m a nice guy, I promise. I like your attitude. Give me a call sometime? Promise? If you don’t, I’ll find you in school. I recognize you, Fiona Harper.” He smiled, raising an eyebrow. I just gave him a flat look despite the redness of my face.

“Whatever.” I muttered before walking out of the room.

---

“Where have you been!? I’ve been waiting here for 10 minutes!” Jessie said as soon as I came into her sight.

“I kind of got caught up.” I said once I was in her hearing range. Her eyes roamed to my arm which I was trying my best to hide.

“What is that on your arm?!” She asked, reaching out and grabbing my arm. Her eyes read the writing before they excitedly reached my eyes.

“Whose number is this?” She asked, reading Ethan’s name.

“Some dude named Ethan.” I shrugged carelessly as I forced my way past her towards the car.

“Well, is he cute?” She asked, blinking rapidly as a smile grew on her face. I shrugged.

“He’s fair.” I shrugged, wrinkling my nose as I tried to remember him. Although, I'd only seen him a few minutes ago- I'd seen a lot of faces in the gap between leaving the room and arriving at the car.

“What does he look like? Maybe I’ve seen him!” She said, bouncing up and down in the driver’s seat. She soon stopped due to the look I was giving her and she started the car.

“He has brown hair. It was cropped and he had gray eyes.” I stated plainly. That was his description, well, his facial description.

“Was he tall? Short? Wearing jeans?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.

“He was tall, at least 6 feet, or maybe 5’11''. He was wearing black jeans that were narrower at the bottom but they weren’t skin tight, so they weren’t exactly skinny jeans. And he was wearing a blue shirt that was loose enough for him to breathe but tight enough to show off that he wasn’t a twig and actually went to the gym.” I described.

“Are you talking about Ethan Howell?” She asked, tilting her head sideways. I shrugged, unsure. Did he say his name was Ethan Howell?

“Did he have a slight British accent?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded. She pursed her lips.

“You’re talking about Ethan Howell,” She said this in a nervous voice. “He’s on the football team.” She said, smiling slightly.

“Why should I care?” I shrugged as she gave me a flat look.

“He’s a football player! I hope you didn't give him an attitude! Those guys are at the top of the popularity chart! They could ruin our lives in an instant, or they could make them 100 times better! Did you even realize he's on the Football team? Unless you didn’t recognize him because you’re too busy thinking about Adrian Easton!” She snorted, giving me a knowing smirk. I glared at her.

“You have no idea what happened.” I stated, shaking my head. But what she said was true. Now that I think about it, I recognize him. I gave a popular an attitude! All because of stupid Easton!

“What happened?” She asked interestedly. So, I told her about my encounter with Easton today in the backyard and she gasped loudly throughout my explanation and laughed when my Aunt’s crazy questions resurfaced. Jessie couldn’t speak, she just stared at me with this weird expression on her face.

“You’re in trouble.” She said, her lips pressed together as she gave me a pitying look. Why am I in trouble? I didn't like the look she was giving me.

“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling panicky. What did I do wrong? I didn't do it, I swear. Deny, deny, deny.

“You kicked him where no guy should be kicked. He’s Adrian Easton. If you didn’t notice, he’s not one to forgive and forget. You live right next door to him, what were you thinking?” Jessie warned. I was thinking about revenge! But I'm guessing it started a full on war.

---

I looked at the clock. 1:57A.M. I slowly got out of the car, looking through the window and waving to Jessie. I slowly made my way up the walk. I noticed that the lights in Easton’s house were on and two cars sat in the driveway. The shiny, red car was gone. I’d realized that it was Easton’s car and he most likely wasn’t home. 

“You’re right on time.” My Aunt said, opening the door as I stepped onto the first step. I nodded, walking past her as she held the door open further. I walked upstairs to my room and decided to shower and try to scrub off the sharpie. But I awkwardly copied the number onto a sticky note. I wasn’t losing that. It’d be good to prank call.

After my shower, I heard something outside as a faint light turned on. I opened my window and saw Easton silently approaching the makeshift ladder. I sneakily walked to the bathroom, grabbing a cup along the way and filling it with ice cold water.

I heard him step onto the trashcan which was directly under my window and I poured the water. He whimpered and I heard the trashcan fall and him groaning in pain. I laughed loudly, making sure to close and lock my window. I sat there and 10 minutes later, I saw the light in his room flicker on and I audibly heard him stomp towards the window. He opened the blinds and swung the window open, knocking hard on my window. I opened the window and smiled kindly.         

“Welcome to McDonalds, how may I help you?” I asked, smiling innocently. I sounded like a sour drive-thru worker.

“What is wrong with you?!” He asked. His shirt was soaking wet and his hair was matted onto his face. He quickly used his hand to brush his hair out of his face

“Nothing, I’m actually quite okay. You look a little damp, might want to get a towel.” I kept that stupid smile on my face.

“You poured ice cold water on me!” He cried out.

“Did I? I only matched the water to the temperature of your heart.” I leaned forward slightly as I smiled at him. He looked outraged.

“I could have fallen onto my head and died!” He snapped, pointing below his window and at his head.

“I know; that’s what I was rooting for.” My voice was still cold but the smile apparent on my face. I crossed my arms and he stared at me for a second before his head turned sideways. I looked at him as if he was stupid before he spoke as if he was disgusted.

“Who’s Ethan?” He asked. The faded sharpie was still visible against my skin. I looked at him, confused for a second before I realized that he was talking about the number on my arm.

“It doesn’t matter.” I shrugged, getting ready to close the window.

“It’s not nice to fake other people’s writing, especially their personal information.” He mocked.

“How would I fake it? It’s on my right arm. I write with my right hand.” I gave him a look saying he was stupid. He just rolled his eyes.

“Well, if it isn’t you that wrote it, then this Ethan guy must be stupid.” He gave me a slight once over before wrinkling his nose.

“Ethan Howell.” I growled, my voice angry. He raised his eyebrows, eyeing the number.

“I don’t believe you,” He said, crossing his arms. "Why would Ethan give you his number?"

“I don't know and I don't care. Don’t believe me.” I shrugged, carelessly closing my window. I stormed away from my window.

I didn’t lock the window, though. That’s a mistake I’ll pay for in the morning. Before I got into my bed, I gave one last fleeting look towards the window and I didn't miss Adrian when I swear he mouthed the words, 'This means war.'