The Boy That Hates Books

You Think You're A Badass Don't You?

Kirsten was never one for danger. If you'd told her last year what she'd be doing now, she would have never believed you. She worked hard at school, stayed within the lines society had drawn, and followed the rules set for her.

Something Kirsten did have though? Dreams. Kirsten liked to imagine being a girl in a book, doing reckless and daring things like kissing boys in the pouring rain or breaking into cafe's. Foreshadowing? Maybe.

Funny enough, Kirsten was in a book, she just didn't know it yet. But that was soon to change. Foreshadowing? Definitely.

The point is, Kirsten wasn't the type of girl to be led astray by a boy who toyed with her emotions and allowed her to see a different side to the world. She was never usually that blind from seeing the truth, or so she thought. Because the clues had been there all along.

Even so, she never wanted to cross the line.

But after everything, after losing her dad, her sister and her two best friends, she's begun to wonder. What does she have left to lose?

She might not know it now, but in the grand scheme of things, she did have something to lose.

Him. And her life as she knows it.

"After we're finished I don't think anyone will visit the Highway Cafe again."

I was stood side by side with the boy I was embarking on this journey with, hearts beating as one. The door to the Highway Cafe was locked, unsurprisingly, but another thing that wasn't surprising was that The Boy That Hates Books knew how to pick locks.

"Look at me, on the run with a criminal mastermind." I laughed, watching how his hands moved as he worked to get the door open.

The smile on his face disappeared as his body went rigid.

"I'm sorry I-" I apologised, but he interrupted.

"It was insensitive that's all," he justified, still focused on the task at hand, "Considering the whole situation with that fugitive."

In that moment he reminded me of Austin, of the night that we were sat in this very cafe and Austin had shouted at me for calling the fugitive's story interesting. The same night that the fugitive had actually walked passed me, so Alice said, but I had been too caught up in my emotions to notice. Being reminded of Austin and Alice made a wave of sadness wash over me, a bitter reminder of my two best friends disappearances.

"You know what? I do feel a little sad that we're trashing this place. I've got a lot of good memories in here." I willed to change the subject.

"I'm sorry to say this sunshine but it's a little to late." The Boy That Hates Books stood back up from where he was crouching and pushed open the heavy glass door with ease.

And, like I'd predicted, there were no alarms and no cameras. We were free to do what we wanted.

Inside was dark, so dark that I immediately bashed into a table.

"Ouch!" I winced, reaching down to rub my knee.

"We've been in here for less than a minute and you've already hurt yourself?" The Boy That Hates Books asked mockingly.

"No." I replied, "Hardly."

I pressed my palm against the wall, trying to find a light-switch, but felt someone grab my wrist instead.

"Don't you think turning lights on would be a bit obvious," The Boy That Hates Books hissed, tugging me towards him and making me fall into his chest. "You have so much to learn."

"And I assume you've broken into many places before?" I whispered, challenging him. I assumed he could see me raise my eyebrows but he probably couldn't see anything.

His breath was hot against mine as he spoke, "Yes actually I have. I used to do it with my friends as a hobby. One thing you should know about me is that I'm addicted to the adrenaline."

As he said the word adrenaline he lent in closer, matching his eye-line with mine, our lips only inches apart. My breathing staggered, a strange feeling awakening at the bottom of my stomach.

"You think you're a badass don't you?"

"I don't think. I know." And with that, he let go of my wrist and moved away.

The air around us seemed to still before my breathing returned to its normal pace. However, the adrenaline he'd spoken about hadn't left, as I navigated the space around me, wondering the possibilities of all the damage we could do...

"Put on the gloves." He threw me a pair of the latex gloves I'd picked up at the garage.

I pulled them over my hands, and within seconds they were already sticky with sweat.

"Um, Kirsten?" He was still rummaging through the duffle bag, pulling out things I'd bought.

"Yup?"

"Why did you buy milk?" I could hear him smiling.

"Because we can pour it everywhere. It smells when it goes sour."

"Yeah I get that but it's a coffee shop. I'm sure there are loads of milk cartons in the fridge." He pointed it out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Wasted my two pounds then."

"That could've fed a family..." I could just about make out him shaking his head disapprovingly.

"I would hit you right now but I can hardly see so I'd probably miss."

"Yeah, save yourself the embarrassment."

I could hear the sound of a spray can being shaken, so I grabbed one out of the bag and did the same.

"Do I have permission to spray a massive 'fuck you' on the walls?" The Boy That Hates Books asked, walking over to the wall and poising his hand ready.

"You have permission to turn this entire place into a massive fuck you."

And so we did.