That's Just the Beginning

Chapter 13

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.