Sold To The Gangleader

Chapter 19

Layla's POV

"Donnor burger."

"Donner burger?"

"That's the new nickname I came up for you. Clever right? As in donnor–"

"I know what you mean and no, it's not clever."

I scoff. "Fine. How does Donald Trump cut it for you?"

His smirk drops. "...You did not just call me that."

"Are you sure, cuz I think I just–" when he gives me a death glare I run out the door. "Did!" Dashing towards the bathroom, he comes after me and a scream escapes my lips when he reaches out to grab the hem of my shirt, I swing the bathroom door open, and run inside, locking it just when he twists the knob.

"What you doing in there, laying eggs?" He taunts.

"Yeah. A bit constipated though." I laugh and then there's silence.

"....you are truly weird..." I hear him say slowly after a while and I laugh.

He takes everything so seriously.

"I'm kidding. Gosh."

"I know...but that was just so weird."

"Hm." I tap my chin even though he can't see me. "Like that time when you and Kaleb were fighting over who shits the biggest?" I smirk.

He scoffs. "Did not."

"I was literally behind you guys, yunno... when you guys decided to leave me as the third wheeler, waddling away not taking any notice of me."

"Not my fault you're short."

I open the door, furrowing my eyebrows. "At least I'm not a gigantic hippopotamus." I sneer, and then a wide smirk spreads across my face.

"You look like a Cheshire cat."

"I'm imagining you with a hippo face." I laugh, which turns into a fit of laughter.

"Ha-ha, good joke. Round of applause." He claps slowly.

I wipe the tears from the corner of my eyes and straighten myself up, clearing my throat.

I look up at him and my eyes trail up to his long locks, that's pushed backwards.

"What?"

"Uhh.." I start twirling my hair, my eyes glued to his hair.

He groans. "Whatever you're thinking about. It's a no."

"Fine I'll ask you later.."

I'm so gonna play with his hair later.

I look down from his hair and meet his hazel eyes, his lips curled in, as he watches me. Smiling I turn around.

"I'm getting the hoodie." I enter his room, looking around and spot his white wardrobe at the far corner of his room. I walk towards it, and pull the handle but it doesn't open. I pull harder and grunt.

Why won't this thing open?

Scrunching my toes against the carpet floor, I grip both the handles and pull with full force.

It jolts open, slamming against the wall, and I lose my grip, and fall on bottom.

"OW!" I hiss, looking at my hand, the side of my pinky scraped from the handle.