The Bad Boy Inside the Chicken Suit ✔ [BOOK 1]

(16) In the middle of NOWHERE.

I dedicate this chapter to my friend Frances, or the one I like to call, Francie.

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Is that suit really that heavy?

It does look heavy.

Scientifically and logically, it is heavy.

Imagine wearing a big, huge, and large yellow fluffy suit, and walking through a swamp.

With muds and other stuff.

I remembered not so long ago that we were both running away from an old lady while he was wearing a chicken suit. I can also remember running away from a group of deadly gangsters with Langston while wearing a chicken suit. So, let's just say that I've been running around lately with Langston wearing a chicken suit, and out of all the times, he finally looks tired right now. Exhausted.

Can't blame him. This is what happens when a person walks across a town's swamp while wearing a damp, heavy, fluffy, chicken suit really is a hassle.

I also can't believe that I'm going to do this, but I really do feel sorry for him. "Let me carry that," I told him before grabbing the box and immediately held it tighter than usual. Langston was right, are there rocks in here!?

He chuckles, "Seriously? I weigh way heavier than you, I am a trained fighter, and I have abs to die for," I rolled my eyes, "Do you really think you can carry something I fumbled off?"

"I'm n-not t-t-he one wearing a d-damp chi-chi-chicken suit here," I retort while trying to catch my breath.

He rolled his eyes this time.

"Either way, you should give that to me,"

I raised an eyebrow and continued walking, "H-how s-so??"

He smirks, "You look like you're constipated."

Constipated?

I gritted my teeth and stayed silent because I know it's true.

"Whaaa-" I gasped loudly when strong arms wrapped around, well, under my butt and above my back. I immediately held into him tightly.

"LANGSTON!"

He just chuckled and continued walking.

As much as I hate to say it, I did notice that we were walking in a faster pace.

"What is wrong with you!?" I gulped, "I weigh heavier than this box!" I frowned at him. "I can walk, you know."

He smirked, "Though you weigh more than 8 tons," Now he's exaggerating... "We're going to arrive in that old lady's friend's house much, much faster."

Again, as much as I hate to say it, he's right.

Is it Langston Is Always Right Day!?

After a short moment of silence, while we pass through the lonesome swamp, I asked him, "What lake did we just pass by?"

"Vilswerth or something,"

Whew, at least he knows where we passed by, at some point.

"Can we stop for a while?" I asked Langston, unlocking my arms around his neck, "You look like you're ready to pass out. I would rather carry this box alone than carrying you -and the box."

He shook his head and continued walking.

Determined, I literally hop out from his arms and fell on the floor, tumbling after tumbling, I made sure the heavy box is safe from any droplets of a swap puddle.

"What the actual fuck!? Chloe!"

I panted for air. Whew! I was like James right there! So, if someone would ask who I am, I'll say, the name's Bond, James Bond.

Cue for me blowing the tip of a gun.

I stood up with the heavy box on my hand. I looked at Langston with a grin, "Now, let's go."

He frowned while I laughed and walked, more like, hop in front of him.

Minutes later, I noticed that his breathing is back to normal -was I really that heavy!?- and the sun was about to set, oh crap...

"Where are we anyway?" I asked Langston before fixing my grip on the object on my hands.

"Give me that," He said, getting the box I was holding, "And, I don't know."

"You don't know?" I asked ridiculously.

"Oh I'm sorry, I don't know how to read signs. Oh wait, I can, but can you see any signs for streets?" He snapped sarcastically.

I shook my head and at the same time, bit my lower lip. Fighting with him wouldn't help us.

Who would ever think that something like this would happen?

Here we are, walking alone in this unknown swamp with the cold breeze around us. Like what I've said; the sun is setting, and since we're in this weird looking swamp, it's darker than usual.

That reminds me...

"Hey Langston, does your phone have any flashlight or anything?"

He nodded before putting the box in one hand and fish out his phone then hand it to me, "Thanks,"

I look at the phone, seeing and realizing something that felt like a truck of bricks ran over me...

He has bars.

I immediately punch him on his left shoulder.

"What the...?!" He hissed in pain before looking at me with wide eyes, "What the fuck!?"

I pinched him.

"Aah!"

I stepped on his foot.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR, WOMAN!?"

I pursed my lips, "First, you have bars, and second, you cursed."

"What about the third?"

"I feel like doing it."

His eyes widened, "You can't just stomp on someone's foot just because you feel like doing it!"

"It's already done," I quoted what the actor said from The Call.

"Anyways," I changed the topic, "You have bars!"

He raised an eyebrow, "Bars?"

I nodded, "Yes, bars. Signal bars. The one you need so you could call someone."

He scoffed, "In this situation, who am I going to call? Ghostbusters?"

Sarcastic Idiot.

"No, but it does begin with 'm' and ends with 'm'."

He scrunched his nose - Which is a habit of his that means a white flag waving for surrender.

"MOM!" I shouted.

He 'aah'ed before frowning, "But that's a new phone. I don't have anyone's number."

I facepalmed.

He scoffs, "Then call your mom."

"I... also don't know her number." And my phone's dead so I can't check anyone's number.

If he wasn't holding that box, I bet he would also do his own facepalm.