Deranged (A Jurassic World fan-fiction)

.4- Unhinged

I walked back to the raptor exhibit, repeating the information over and over in my head.

They're using a non-existent dinosaur in war.

Then I realized, how the heck will Owen believe me? Really, using a dinosaur that does not exist is ridiculous. The name is pretty believable, but that's it. I doubt he would take me seriously.

He would probably laugh in my face and call me an idiot.

I shook my head with a smile, turning around and walking back to the laboratory.

Of course that dinosaur isn't real.

Then, I bumped into someone. "Oh, sorry! I was deep in thought, I didn't realize." The familiar chuckle caught my attention. I looked up, and blushed as I realized we were really close. I took a step back, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"It's alright," He finally said, sighing and looking at me. I felt my cheeks heat up. "So, I was wondering, where do you spend the night? Most of the workers here have hotel rooms." I asked, trying to get rid of my thoughts as they lead back to the Indominus Rex, a dinosaur that would never exist.

"Well, I have a bungalow." He responded, smiling at my confused face. "A bungalow?" He nodded, then proceeded to take my hand in his. My face heated up again, making me mentally slap myself. "I'll show it to you, it's just a short trip by motorcycle."

I swallowed. "A motorcycle?" The thing was, I was absolutely terrified of motorcycles. Ever since my cousin bought one and flipped over, breaking his legs, I swore to never ride one in my entire life. Plus, the embarrassment of being in a wheelchair and not being able to attend the restroom alone was horrible.

"Yeah," He said, looking around. Then he saw my face. I felt sweat all over my forehead, and my hands were shaking. "You look a little pale, you alright?" Of course not, I wanted to say, but I couldn't really talk, since he had already dragged his death-vehicle over.

"Is there another way we could reach your bungalow?" I asked lamely, not covering the fact that I was scared, right at the bones. He smirked. "You're scared, huh?" I nodded stupidly, before realizing what he had asked. I licked my lips, taking the sweat off my hands by rubbing them against my pants.

He then pulled me closer to the motorcycle. "You'll be fine, you just have to hold on tight." I nodded, licking my lips once again. He mounted the motorcycle, before extending his hand out to me.

I got on behind him, my arms immediately linking around his torso. "Hey, not so tight! I might die from your strength." I blushed once again, hiding my face on his back, trying to loosen my grip. Then he started the motorcycle, and my arms got tight again, making him chuckle.

I spent the next ten minutes holding in my breath, with my eyes closed. "We're here, see? Motorcycles are as safe as..." I lost my grip on his torso, straightening up. I slowly stood up, and took some good steps away from the motorcycle, shaking off the horrible feeling of the wind against my skin.

"As?" I asked, finger-brushing my short hair. He gave me a lopsided smile. "As safe as a Raptor." I rolled my eyes, smiling slightly. I looked around, admiring his bungalow. "Nice," I commented, putting my hands on my hips. "Yeah, want a beer or something? You know, I have to be inviting and all." I shook my head. "I don't drink, sorry."

He raised his eyebrows. "Not even beer? How can you function?" he asked, entering the building. I stayed glued to the floor, not knowing what to do. His head stuck out, after a minute. "Not coming?" I nodded sheepishly, before hurrying inside.

And as I saw how comfortable he was around me, drinking his beer while he was sprawled all over is small couch, I knew something was wrong with me, and I did not want to admit that I had a crush on Owen Grady.

Just like all of the women in Jurassic World. 

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Hello, readers! (I bet you don't even read these) 

I would like to say WOW 51 READS, ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS? I know this isn't much, but i just uploaded this story a few days ago and wow!

please do keep reading, it'll get better. My writing doesn't suck that bad. 

-Angie