Playing the Playboys

Chapter 8: The Revenge

What if we said goodbye to safe and sound?
And what if, what if we're hard to find?
What if, what if we lost our minds?

"Did you just kick me?" I questioned Zachary in an offended tone. "And call me a molester?"

"Katherine?" he asked with a slur. He slowly sat up and blinked a few times before his mouth turned into an o in realization.

"Yes, it's me, you ass." I fumed, rubbing the back of my head. I felt a bump forming from where he kicked me, and some of the neurons in my brain probably died because of the stupid kick.

He slowly sat up, his eyebrows stitched together in confusion. "Why were you touching my butt?"

"Why did you kick me?" I retorted, still rubbing my head. I mean, Zachary was a guy who worked out and didn't skip leg day. He probably beat up a lot of people, so his kick really did hurt me that I had to sit down on my hoodie to stop feeling dizzy. "Besides, I wasn't touching your butt on purpose. I was getting money from your back pockets."

"So you were stealing?" he inquired, raising his perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I only kicked you because I thought you were some creep molesting my ass."

I scoffed. "I wasn't stealing! The money's for you, dumbass. You didn't bother checking first before you went all kung-fu on me?"

"And you didn't bother waking me up before groping me."

"You're insufferable," I glared at him. "Now I have to buy ice packets for myself."

"While you're at it," he said before dropping his head on my lap, closing his eyes, "buy us ice cream."

I wanted to reply something witty like I wasn't his slave or something, but all I could think of was his head on my lap. I stared at his bruised face, eyes wide open. His usually styled black hair fell on his eyes, and somehow he was even cuter that way. Despite the bruises on his face, I noticed his freckles, and I had to resist the urge to trace them with my finger. His eyelashes were unfairly long and his eyebrows were on fleek without him even trying.

Annoyed that he was so freaking perfect, I slid away from him, letting his head fall on the hoodie.

"What did you do that for?" he grumbled, opening his eyes to glare at me.

"It's because you're annoying," I told him before starting to walk away. "What flavor do you want?"

"Just guess!" he yelled after me.

When I got in the drugstore, I realized that I didn't know anything about fixing someone up after getting beat up. I probably looked stupid asking the person by the register, who looked like he was about to pass out any minute, if they had a bundle of things for freshly beaten up people.

"I didn't beat up anyone or something," I denied right away when he was giving me this judging look. "It's for a friend."

He continued judging me and handed me a first aid kit.

I bought two water bottles, a handkerchief to clean Zachary up, and of course, ice cream. I didn't know what he wanted, so I bought cookie dough for me and cookies and cream for him.

Mainly because I couldn't decided between the two.

Zachary was still lying on the bench when I came back. An idea popped in my head, making a smirk grow on my face. I snuck up to him before kneeling beside him, placing my lips by his ear.

"You'll float too." I said in a soft, sadistic voice, just how Pennywise in It said it.

He sat up as quickly as possible, eyes wide open in fear. He looked like he wanted to scream but couldn't because he was frozen and rigid, as if Pennywise held him captive.