How To Punch A BadBoy

S U M M A R Y

"There are three kinds of people in this world, Miss Walker. The watcher, the fighter, and the wounded. In which do you belong? Who do you stand for? And, what do you do to change it?”

I narrow my eyes at him. Of course I knew the answer to that question, but that didn't mean I would answer him. Leaning back in the extremely uncomfortable chair, which was already giving me a cramp, I replied.

“The real question is, Doctor Jones, in which do you belong?” For a slight second, he stiffened. “You sit there acting so high and mighty, looking down at us troublemakers, but what do you do to make a difference?”

Silence.

I gave a soft smirk, intertwining my fingers on my lap. The cool air from the A/C was making goosebumps appear on the bits of my exposed skin, but I ignored it. The tables had just turned and this fracking psychologist knew it.

“That's what I thought.”

x x x x

Meet Thorn Walker. She is one strange case of a person. Pettit, skinny, imperfect, and completely natural. While her friends (if you can call them that) go party crazy and are all about boys, she would rather relax on her soft, fluffy, and blue chair, drinking hot chocolate and watching Supernatural.

She has a backstory, and no. She isn't a runaway from home, nor is her mother a prostitute, nor is her dad abusive. They're divorced, took her brother, and she got emancipated. End of story.

Her life was pretty normal, and everyday was pretty much the same cycle.

Exactly. WAS.

Until he came along, and conveniently went to the same cafe as her.

Until she spilled her entirely delicious whip cream extra chocolate with triple caramel sundae on him . . . .

. . . . and until he ate her nachos.

That day, oh that day, it. Was. ON.

She would train, become stronger, plot her revenge, learn how to fracking punch a bad boy, and serve justice to her stolen nachos.

x x x x

“You know, most girls don't really like the whole, eating their stuff thing,” I pointed out under my breath, inhaling deeply and trying, for the sake of the world, to calm down.

A thorny, moody, highly altered and angered girl was really unnecessary with what was going on in the world.

“Oh really? But Nachos, sweetheart, all the girls love it when I eat their stuff,” he smirked softly and wriggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Narrowing my eyes, I put my arms like a shield around my nachos and leaned slightly forward towards him, until our faces were only a few inches apart. “If you touch my nachos again, I would be the death of you," I whispered murderously.

Smirking, he leaned forward as well and while looking around the cafeteria, whispered, “I would love for you to be . .the death of me.”

And with that he brushed my lips against his quickly and moved away.

Good. The rest of my nachos were now safe, even though Timmy and Johnny had been eaten by that—

Wait. What just-!?

Did he just-!?

Did I just-!?

Frack my life.

x x x x

s u m m a r y
[ end ]

Love lots,

xoxo -Røse