BITE ME

CHAPTER SEVEN: Trouble

CHAPTER SEVEN: Trouble

Bree opened her phone once she made it down the last step of the bus, her eyes immediately gluing themselves on the screen once she saw several unread text messages from Chloe. As it turns out, the reason why she hasn’t seen any photos of her together with her boyfriend lately was that they had been fighting yet again.

Unfortunately, this one seemed to be serious. And one that didn’t look like they’d be able to recover from, too.

‘I know it’s stupid to ask but ... how u holding up?’ She texted back and waited for her typing bubble to pop up.

‘U know u can talk to me, right?’

‘I’ll be here if u need someone.’

After several seconds of waiting, just staring blankly down at her phone, nothing came so she pocketed it and sighed. But as soon as she lifted her eyes off of her phone screen, one thing caught her eyes. And it never left that thing even for a quick second again.

She crossed the street with an unsettling pace and gave the black motorcycle parked outside Mrs. Johnson’s restaurant an unblinking stare. It was undoubtedly the same model: a black BMW S 1000 RR. To think that she had almost forgotten about it now what with all the bad blood going on with her and the Book Thief at school.

Going to Covington Fort High had been exhausting for her. Much more exhausting when you know that it wasn’t just the stuck-up brats who couldn’t live without their trust funds at school that wanted you gone. That someone in your neighborhood is also out to get you.

Mrs. Johnson, a woman in her late 40s but with the enthusiasm of a nine-year-old, stepped out of the restaurant with a hand on a huge silver platter. She hadn’t remembered her hair being that brown, her kind eyes sparkling to match the way her face lit up with every step. She must’ve seen Bree hovering over the motorcycle parked in her driveway that she decided to just call her in.

“Aubrey!” She waved a hand over to her and smiled. “Come on in! I just whipped up a new batch of muffins. It’s on the house for you.”

Bree wanted to decline. But seeing as how Mrs. Johnson was already on her way to drag her into the restaurant, she just chose to give her a smile and nodded, thanking her profusely on the way there.

She had no reason to be mean to her. Mrs. Johnson had been nothing but welcoming ever since they came back from their exile in De Sales Hill. Just because her son had been God’s drunken failure doesn’t mean Mrs. Johnson was partly to blame. She knew a little of their story. And, whatever this was, is just a subtle cry for attention on his part.

He’s probably rebelling to get mommy to look at him.

What a crybaby.

“Do you want anything to drink, Bree?”

“Oh. No, it’s okay, Mrs. Johnson. I still have an unfinished Dr. Pepper in my bag.” Bree watched her disappear into the kitchen before refocusing her attention on the motorcycle outside. Thankfully, it hasn’t left, yet.

Now, the waiting game begins.

Ten minutes passed and, in those minutes, Mrs. Johnson had already given her a muffin, chatted to her about her siblings, and she even had the chance to help her clean a table up. But still, there was no sign of any movement. If anything, the street looked empty. The restaurant even emptier.

She was already halfway through her muffin, obviously stalling for a bit when the first sign of someone approaching the vehicle finally turned up.

The sound had come from behind the restaurant.

‘Maybe it was just Mrs. Johnson?’ she thought, but paused when she saw that it had been her son. Kaleb, as she recalled his name, was dressed in a plain black shirt, a leather jacket thrown across his shoulder lopsidedly.

In his hand was the only confirmation she needed.

Kaleb started the motorcycle but before Bree could even hide behind Mrs. Johnson’s threadbare curtains, he had already caught her movement out of the corner of his eye. He smirked at her—the same damn smirk that he did behind the tinted shield of his helmet when he almost ran her over.

Bree felt a surge of anger boil inside of her and she did everything she could to prevent herself from throwing the saltshaker straight into his face.

✧ ✧ ✧

That night, she could barely stop herself from pacing as she recalled every little interaction that they had from the moment they were kids up to the day they moved back in. Not one—not even the tiniest memory of him gave any indication as to why he was doing this in the first place.

Why was he smirking at her in front of her face but the moment she turns around, he’d planned to murder her with his stupid bike?

What exactly had she done to him and why the hell would he go overboard?

Of course, it could be entirely a coincidence. He might not mean to do that back then. She could’ve popped up out of nowhere, startling him so that he’d almost run her over. And what she saw that day might not be a smirk. It could be an awkward smile.

Or an apology smile?

Is there even such a thing?!

“Hey, trouble.” She heard someone call out from behind her and whirled around in her place to find the village i***t staring right at her, his naked torso covered by nothing but a towel that he had tossed over his broad shoulders.

Bree didn’t even blink at this. His body might’ve fazed her tough act before. But now that she finally knows what lies behind that tempting face, she’d rather lick the bathroom floor than be with him. “Trouble?” she dumbly retorted and whisked her window open.

The pontificating jackass just started to laugh. “You don’t remember? I used to call you that when we were kids. You used to always cause trouble around the neighborhood.”

“Well, at least I don’t run people over with my motorcycle.”

Kaleb laughed again. “You probably would if you had one.”

“You jerk! I’m not like you, okay? Which dumbass even gave you a license? You’re f*cking terrible at driving! You should’ve been a hearse driver instead. It might lessen the number of deaths you’d cause considering you’re already carrying one.”

“Woah, easy.” Kaleb’s expression was bordering on confusion, now. “Why are you getting mad?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?!”

“Bad day, huh?”

“Oh, so now, I’m being unreasonable? Quit pretending!” She scoffed. “You f*cking beanpole.”

Kaleb tried opening his mouth to say something, but Bree was not ready to give him that chance, yet. She had already closed her windows, pulling her curtains shut, even as Kaleb was still in the middle of his sentence.

She had never met someone as cowardly as him. And she has met a lot of people.

She could easily tell that he was the type of person that would pretend that he has done nothing wrong the moment he was confronted. If he was gonna make fun of her, he should at least be decent by doing it in her face.

“This is not over, you dingbat,” Bree muttered through clenched teeth and slid under her sheets, her eyes wide awake even as she lay there unmoving. “I’ve had a horrible week already without you messing with me.”

And just then, seconds before she closed her eyes, a faint shade of crimson swirled across her irises, fading almost instantly as her brain started to fog over.

“This ... isn’t ... the end,” she murmured and drifted straight to sleep.