The Bad Boy & Me

Chapter 20: Do I Really Know Him?

Victoria's POV

A gun.

There is a gun.

I just found a gun inside a mysterious chest inside Jason's bedroom. And I would be completely lying if I said I'm not surprised as to why a gun is in here, inside Jason's bedroom. But no, there's a feeling that's topping off the shock I have felt.

It is fear.

Fear.

Fear is an emotion induced by a perceived threat which causes entities to quickly pull far away from it and usually hide. It is a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil and pain whether the threat is imagined or real. It is the feeling when a person is afraid. Or more likely, the feeling or condition of being afraid.

That's what I am feeling right now, at this very moment. And I don't even know if I even have the right to be afraid, or more like, the reason to be afraid.

But then again, I'm pretty sure that if you just found an actual gun in a chest inside your neighbor's bedroom, you wouldn't celebrate of be blithesome over that.

Sweat was clearly glistening on my forehead right now.

My heart is now beating so fast like it would actually leap out of my chest.

My feet seems to be glued to the ground.

I can't move.

I am frozen.

But the question remains "Is there really an actual gun here?"

I shook my head furiously, making those thoughts disappear like it never even existed in the first place.

What could I have been possibly be thinking?

A gun.

A single gun could have many reasons why its presence is here in Jason's bedroom.

But I'm a very optimistic person. I've once read that being optimistic can help you live longer.

So optimistically thinking, Jason must had have this gun in his room for self-defense.

That's the first thought that came into my mind and that kind of makes sense since the Reynolds family is filthy rich and there's no doubt that there are some evil people out there after them.

Or maybe it's because Jason is a terrorist. Or maybe he is a member of a very dangerous, bad-ass gang. Or maybe he's an army guy.

Or maybe he just has a weird obsession over guns.

No, scratch that.

Having guns kept inside your room would not only be considered as utterly strange but also illegal.

Unless.

Unless Jason is a member of some sort of secret spy agency like the CIA.

The idea suddenly made me more curious.

I shook my head to get those thoughts full of ridicule in my head.

But who am I kidding? I don't really know the real Jason Reynolds. I bet I barely know him. So he may, or may not be some sort of a secret spy agent., although that would be extremely cool to be living with a spy agent.

Health experts always said that optimists live longer than pessimists do so maybe I should think more ideas on the brighter side on this current situation.

Every single, little thing has an offense-defense effect and that idea also applies to guns.

Guns can kill people and harm them but they can also be used as a protection and for safety and security purposes.

So maybe Jason has a gun inside his room for self-defense.

Yes.

Self-defense.

But really, what is a gun doing here in Jason's bedroom?

Why is there a gun in his bedroom?

Before I could think further, I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and that could only mean one thing.

Jason is here and he is coming in his bedroom and I am still here, frozen like a statue, with a gun on my hand.

I quickly put back the gun in the chest and put it back under Jason's bedroom and just when I stood up, Jason opened the door.

Shock and suspicion was clearly plastered on his sweaty, handsome face.

Wait.

Did I just say handsome?

"What are you doing here?" He hissed, narrowing his eyes at me.

He took a few steps forward, making me continuously walk backward. I kept walking until I felt my back hit the wall.

And that's when realization hit in.

Here I am, in Jason's house, in Jason's bedroom, trapped between the wall and Jason himself.

I gulped.

His mesmerizing eyes looked directly into mine like he was looking through me. I can smell his minty, chocolate breath as he opened his mouth.

"Next time, don't creep in on other's bedrooms." And then he smirked.

Why the heck is he smirking?

He moved away from me and towards the wooden drawer beside his bedroom. He opened the second drawer and pulled out something from it.

"You never know what you may find in here." He said calmly but there was a dangerous yet playful tone in his voice.

"Something like what?" I said as I swallowed the lump that had unconciously formed in my throat.

And he showed me something that made me want to vomit.

A pack of condoms.

I probably looked like I was about to actually vomit so he said "Why do you seem like you're going to faint any second now?" He said still smirking.

Ugh! He's such an egocentric jerk.

He even has the nerve to smirk!

"What? We're going to use it anyways in the future." He said making me want to barf up my dinner on him.

I quickly gave him a very menacing look of mine and went out his bedroom.

I really can't believe that he has the guts to say that stuff to me.

Suddenly as I was entering my bedroom, all happiness was left aside.

A question popped into my head.

A question that I have no answers for.

Yet.

I  immediately went towards my bed and laid down. I stared up at the plain, boring ceiling of mine and sighed. I closed my eyes preparing myself for sleep.

A few minutes have passed and I'm still awake.

Wide awake, to be accurate.

I kept tossing and turning but it was no use. I still couldn't sleep no matter how much I wanted to.

I stayed lying on my bed with my eyes wide open and finally, I have drifted off to sleep with a question left unanswered.

Do I really know him?