To Be Claimed

✙ Chapter 4 ✙

Thanks for reading!

~Lissa

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"I'm sorry, but your car is a goner," the old man told me, scratching his hairless head. He stood in a pair of ripped, stained jeans with tight-fitting shirt, revealing his belly that hung over his belt. A strange tattoo was on his left arm, stretching from his shoulder down to his elbow. He nudged his thick-rimmed glasses, before his dark eyes skimmed over Ryker with a look of curiosity. Ryker straightened next to me, squeezing his fists together in an attempt to look intimidating. It took every ounce in my body not to roll my eyes when he popped his chest out, flexing his muscles. Really? I thought, just as a loud crash came from somewhere in the junkyard. The old man gestured behind him, before saying, "You could buy one of these, though. That green Camry has great gas mileage, but you'd have to get some new tires - it was owned by some crazy teenagers, you know?"

I stared at him in disbelief. "A g-goner?"

"Yeah, my buddy crushed it an hour ago," he responded, hooking a thumb over my shoulder. There was a large pile of metal near the back corner of the junkyard and I gulped loudly. "I'm sorry, we were told it was no longer needed."

I faced Ryker, eyes narrowed. "Did you hear that? He crushed my car! This is all your fault!" I tossed my hands into the air in anger, turning away from him. I ran my sweaty hands down my face, taking deep breaths. This couldn't be happening; my car - my baby - was destroyed. Looking back at Ryker, he was holding up a hand, unfazed by the situation. "Calm down." I deepened my glare as his emerald eyes traveled along the cars parked around us. "I'll buy you a new car - just pick one. Look, you could have a red mustang like me."

He pointed towards an old mustang with popped wheels and the backseat doors dented in. The back window was shattered, replaced with a bag stretched out. Not only that, but the taillights were busted; it would've been just better to get a new car from a dealership. And, just when I thought it was terrible, a rat skidded out of the car, disappearing off into a bunch of wood. I scrunched my nose up in disgust and the old man cleared his throat, looking at me with a forced grin. "I have some more around back."

"No thanks," I said, brushing him off. My eyes flickered back to Ryker who had his arms folded across his chest. "You shouldn't have touched my car in the first place!"

"I thought I was being a gentlemen by getting your things for you," he replied, frowning. "Obviously, that isn't considered a nice gesture in this century."

"I could've gotten them myself," I said, harshly. Then, needing to release some anger, I poked him hard in the chest. Sparks shot up my arm, traveling throughout my entire body. Awkwardly, I licked my lips, knowing he felt them, too. But, I wasn't surprised that when I poked him, I felt muscle - only muscle. His chest was as hard as rock, causing some pain in my finger. He rubbed the spot where I poked him and I shook my hand at my side, secretly. "Plus, how do I know that you aren't some creep, huh? That you didn't snoop through my things? You're probably keeping a pair of my undies stashed somewhere!"

"Uh, I have work to get to," the old man muttered, moving away. I watched as he hurried off towards his buddy near the wooden building, sparing a glance over his shoulder at us. Ryker rolled his eyes and turned away from me, running his fingers through his dark hair. "I'm not a creep and I don't have a pair of your underwear - that's ridiculous." Next thing I knew, he was walking towards his red mustang parked near the exit.

Quickly, I followed after him. "How would you like it if I sent your mustang here?"

"I'd be angry," he answered, honestly. "But, my car isn't a piece of trash, unlike yours."