Resisting the Bad Boy

[10] "Raven Micheals"

     I CAN'T get her out of my head. She's been occupying my thoughts recently and things I can't identify are rising up no matter what I do to push them away. I want to yell at the uncertainty that's grown around the situation. I'm Archer fucking Cross. I have complete control at every moment and always have the upper hand in every situation. Everyone fears me besides a certain group of friends who don't think I'm a ruthless killer and know the situation I've kept locked away. If anyone were to try anything and expose my secrets to tell, they'd never get that chance and I'm not an idiot to tell just anyone. I have power where people don't suspect because I control their very perception.

I'm not one who lives in uncertainty. I have fucking control.

So what the hell is happening now?

I force myself to push to the limit, my feet pounding on the pavement and my breathing heavy. I decided to go for a quick run post-hangover. It always helps to clear my head and help with the symptoms, and today I need it more than others. I feel my lungs starting to burn and I ignore it, pushing myself up the hill that leads towards my house. I trudge through the front door, wiping the sweat from my forehead and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

     I take a few swigs, still slightly out of breath from my run. I look at the time, seeing as I was out for about an hour, give or take ten minutes. The hangover's still lingering, but the Advil I took earlier has probably calmed down some of the pain.

     I take a moment to try and remember all of last night. I remember being so drunk and stumbling in the door with the key Leila gave me every so hesitantly. I could tell she didn't want a killer to have a key to her house, but optics were all she cared about—even more than safety. She wanted everyone to think we were so solid and our relationship was so strong that she could give me a damn key.

     I'd never wanted to use it anyways.

     Not until last night when I came deliberately.

     After coming in to the house I remember making my way to the hallway where most of the bedroom entrances were and stumbling into one. I also remember hearing a scream and a heavy thud as someone threw a paperweight at me. That's when Raven realized it was me and she let me sleep in her bed after I took my shirt off. She even slept with me--although it wasn't intentional.

     Me. A killer.

     In some ways, Raven met all the standards I thought she would. She was scared as fuck of me as I would've thought, but then in the morning she gave me Advil and cleaned my clothes and-

     "What took so long?" I hear a voice, making me jump.

     I whip around, not before grabbing the nearest weapon which happens to be a wooden cooking spoon. But when I see who it is, I slam the spoon back onto the counter and sigh.

     "Jesus, Greyson. What the fuck?" I ask.

"Hey you don't get to kill me when you didn't even tell me shit. I came here last night but didn't find your drunk ass so where the hell did you go? And then I came earlier this morning to find you gone as well but it's apparent you came back for some running gear..." he trails off, giving me an expectant look.

     "I was drunk off my ass. You can't blame sober me for drunk me's actions," I raise a brow.

     "What happened last night? Leila came in crazy and looking for you, saying you broke up with her, and no one could get ahold of you...explain," he says. 

     I cross my arms, giving him a hard look.

     "Ohh, ohh! I'm so scared of brutal killer Archer Cross! He scares me so bad with his killer eyes," he says in a mock scared voice.