My Cliche Love Story | ✓

Chapter 4

The curtains are closed, but I can still hear his voice.

"Don't by shy, Baker," he calls, antagonizing me.

I scowl, opening the curtains just a sliver wide. "Invading people's privacy? Now, that's something different, even for you."

He smirks. "Invading privacy? You do realize that the curtains were open, right?"

"I hate you," I spit back at him, closing the curtains again. I stomp down the stairs.

"Going for a run?" Jake looks up from his phone.

I nod stiffly, not saying a word. I just need to blow off some steam, and right now, that means no one but me and my music. So, after tying my tennis shoes and grabbing my phone and earbuds, I take off into the chilly air. My music blasts into my ears, making me run harder, settling me down.

I ignore everything around me, just listening to the lyrics. I love doing this, when I'm stressed, I just run. Sometimes I'm afraid that I'll never stop, and I'll get lost in the midst of all the chaos that is my life. But then I come back to real life, the life that I have to take care of my brother, the life that I have to maintain relationships with friends, the life that I have to live.

The music must be doing something to me; I've never been that...what's the word? Vulnerable. I've never been that vulnerable in my life.

I guess I've never done that before because--well, because no one's ever listened to me like that. Everyone's expecting me to be 'on' all the time, to be sassy and full of sarcasm, which I am, but that only becomes easier because of my fear of being open with people. Even Molly's never seen me cry.

Not that I do, it's just...sometimes, it just slips out.

I'll never forgive him for doing it to me.

Who, you ask?

Ha. The bastard that calls himself my father.

He's my biological father, but I never asked for him to do such terrible things to me. I haven't told anyone, not even my mother.

They all think that he left because he hated us.

He left because I told him to.

Even through my music, I can hear the coming footfalls behind me, and I slow down, wiping the forming sweat off my forehead. Turning around, taking a deep breath, my anger returns, boiling, as I see that Carter followed me.

"Privacy, remember?" I hold up my earbuds. "That's what these are for."

He knits his eyebrows. "Are you sure you don't want to run with me? You look like you could use the company." God, he's not even gasping for breath! This guy is infuriating. But perhaps I can get rid of him.

"Only if you can keep up," I say, and my legs sprint faster than they have ever run in my life. Running makes everything easier for me.

Behind me, Dylan's feet pound against the pavement, trying their hardest to catch me. Well, he hasn't run for his whole life like me, this'll be easy.

The whole time, I slow down for five paces, and then scurry away when he comes close. He laughs, all the sarcasm rid from his face, and it looks as if he's an actual, genuine person.

The thought distracts me, and I slow down, just enough for him to pass me by at least three paces.

"Here I am," he says, sucking in a breath. His typical smirk is back.

What a stupid thought, thinking he could be anything but a self-assured jerk.

I grimace, gripping my phone, about ready to call Molly. Any time spent with Dylan Carter is time I'd rather be spending with my real friends.

"Great," I say in a flat voice, "what now?"

He feigns hurt. "You get to walk--or run, your choice--with me. Isn't that prize enough?" I can see the smirk start to form on his face.

"I'm really getting sick of you," I storm past him, my lungs aching from the previous run.

He keeps up with me easily; I'm not walking that fast. Carter looks at me though, and I glare at him. "What's wrong with you, puppy eyes?"

"'Puppy eyes?'" Dylan winks. "Warming up to me already?"

I roll my eyes. "You wish." I hold a leg out in front of him in a lame attempt to trip him, but he only dodges it with ease. Honestly, I hate this guy.

"It's Friday," he points out.

"Yeah, glad to know that you've figured out that gem of information." I cross my arms.

Dylan chuckles. "You always were the kind to play hard-to-get, Baker."

"I'm not playing hard-to-get, I just don't want you to get me," I huff.

He nods, raising his eyebrows in a way that makes him seem like he knows everything.

Well, he doesn't. Not even close.

"Anyway, Baker, what I meant to say was this: there's a party tonight, you and I are going, we'll have fun, dance a little, and then you can make your choice."

"My choice?"

"You can either be boring, and I'll drive you home, or we can keep this...friendship going." He looks up thoughtfully. "Or not, if you would prefer."

I make a grotesque noise. "Never gonna happen, Carter. For a second there, I thought you were asking me on a date." I've got the upperhand now, he won't know what to say.

"Well, only if you want me to," he winks, looping my arm around his.

And there goes my advantage.

"No," I snap, my voice sharp, yanking my arm away.

"Aw, come on, it'll be fun," he whines.

I shake my head again, but then I think: I've got nothing to do, anyway, why not? Besides, now could be my chance to get some dirt on this pain in the ass and ruin his reputation! It's the perfect plan.

"You know what, it may be fun after all, Dylan Carter. Why not?"

He grins. "I'll pick you up at nine, then," he smirks, turning around. "Bet I can beat you again."

I shake my head. "Not a chance."

My legs carry far in front of him, the wind biting at my cheeks. The familiar burn in my legs returns, and a smile breaks out on my face. Some people think I'm crazy for my love of running, but I honestly think that it's the best thing in the world.

Except for when you're chased by a ridiculously cliche "bad boy." Then, I'd rather be anywhere else than here.

"Beat you," I puff when I reach my driveway, a childish smirk on my face.

"Alright, Baker, you win just this once," he replies, waggling his finger in my face.

I roll my eyes. "Bye."

"Nine, okay? I'll pick you up at nine."

I nod, shooting him a grimace over my shoulder. "Can't wait," I say in a flat voice.

"You're gonna love it," is all he says before jogging away from me, to his own house.

12/07/2015