Cloud 69

43:

"Please tell me you're joking," I groaned, following Dylan down the hallway.

"Are you really that surprised?" Dylan responded.

"No, I suppose not."

I pushed open the doors, running out of the back of the building, straight for the field. There was already quite a big crowd; everyone was buzzing and cheering, holding their phones up over everyone else's heads. I pushed past them forcefully, trying to find the center of the crowd.

I froze for a moment as I watched him. He was more than angry.

His face was contorted in a malicious sort of way. His eyes were dark with his brows angled downwards. He had his jaw clenched tightly, but the arrogant, self-assured smirk was still on his face. He was sure as hell pissed.

It was clear to tell he was in control of the situation. He threw another punch, landing it directly to the left of the other guy's nose, almost like a warning. I recognized the other guy as Ryan Collins from our year; I had no idea Carson even knew him.

Ryan kept swinging, but he was on defense more than anything, taking blow after blow, not having enough time to recover and throw a decent punch.

I knew yelling at Carson to stop wouldn't do any good; he had tuned everyone else out to focus on his punching bag. I looked over to Dylan to see if he had any bright ideas on how to handle this, but even Dylan knows trying to pull Carson out of a fight is a suicide mission. 

Well, if it's a fight he wants, it's a fight he's going to get. 

I ran in front of Ryan, pushing the kid back a bit before Carson could swing his fist back again. By the disgruntled look on Carson's face, I could tell he hadn't noticed the person in front of him had changed. I rolled my eyes before moving closer and slapping him across his face.

He sneered viciously as a bright red mark appeared across his right cheek, but his eyes were still fixed and he was setting himself to throw another hit once again. I groaned internally. He always has to be so difficult.

He threw another punch, and I quickly moved to the side, his tight fist whizzing past my ear, just barely missing it. Before he had time to reset, I kicked him in the balls (Not too hard, though. I don't want damaged goods).

I watched as his face contorted in pain and his eyes finally unfocused.

"Fuck," He panted out as he bent over. "Madeline?"

"You're an idiot," I said, angrily, grabbing his ear and pulling him. "Let's go."

*                             *                            *

"Madeline," He tried. I didn't respond.

"Princess?"

"Baby?"

"Are you a complete moron?!" I yelled at him. He opened his mouth, but quickly shut it to rethink what he going to say. I took that as an opportunity to continue yelling at him. "What possessed your obviously very small brain to think it was a good idea to get into a fight?"

He opened his mouth once again, holding up a finger.

"Don't you dare say anything," I threatened. He sighed, but sat back against the closed toilet seat without a word. He watched me as I passive-aggressively cleaned the cuts on his face and began wrapping up his very bruised hand.