5

I kick rocks on the road, mood simmering and feeling listless as I make my way back up the huge, curved drive to our house after walking Elisa home. It’s getting dark because I hung out at hers for a while to pass the time and give my so-called family a chance to get over their current fight. Elisa made me dinner, and we avoided all talk of earlier, seeing as it was not the first time. I’m tired and looking to go to my room to catch up on study notes before bed. I have a test tomorrow in English lit.

As I round the bend obscured by the bushes of our manicured garden, I catch sight of Dane coming this way, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, head down and kicking at debris the same way I am as he walks. He’s changed from his school clothes into that rumpled, badass casual he prefers. Light ripped jeans, a white Tee under an open check shirt with graffiti embroidery across a shoulder and one side. His hair is freshly ruffled, and he’s sporting all the metal he usually wears in his face and ear, so it shines in the light. I always hated how his eyebrow bar and lip ring suited his face and transformed him from a good-looking teen into something older and sinister. He used to be a clean-cut, cute boy, and now he looks like a gang thug.

Dragging his steps and sighing as he watches the ground ahead of him. He seems deflated with a blank expression. Just the mere sight of him annoys me, and I exhale sharply, pull up my chin, and speed up my pace to get by him as fast as possible.

He glances up at the scuff of gravel under my sneakers, sees me under that floppy side bang he has going on, and sighs harder, turning his head to the opposing side with a look of ‘this is all I need.’ It makes me grit my teeth. He shifts from walking centrally towards me to meandering two or three paces to the right with a veer as he gets closer, making it clear he has nothing to say.

“Asshole,” I murmur under my breath as I pass him by with a good five-foot gap now, focusing on the house's lights ahead. I keep my pace and posture brisk and avoid looking at him.

“What? … If you have something to say, don’t be shy…. didn't take you for a coward who mumbles.” He snaps at me, temper riled from whatever happened in my absence, and pushes my kill switch too.

“I called you an asshole because you are. Always making problems where none were needed. I’m sick of your drama.” I spin on him, fury unleashed with such little encouragement because it’s always brimming under the surface when related to him. I’m tired and anxious because my mom will be in a sour mood, making me irritable. As it’s down to him, he deserves my rage. “You need to grow up and stop acting like a spoiled brat. It was your dad’s birthday dinner. It’s not like they asked for anything else except your presence and a little respect. You’re so selfish.”

“Gimme a break. Maybe your mom needs to get off my back and stop her shit. You always side with her and never step back and think maybe it’s not always me. You’re so brainwashed.” He spits back, and even though I intended to go home and not do this, there is something about Dane that always pulls me to this. I can’t ever let it go; I guess this is how my mom feels. Why, no matter what, she bites. He always has a smart-ass response and shirks blame.

“Why should she? You treat her like trash. It IS always you. You moved in with us, are fed and clothed by them… handed cash without question, and get away with near murder, and yet you act like you are so hard done by. You’re spoiled and rude, and my mom should kick you out. See how you fare on your own.” We have ended up face to face, his towering height not fazing me, and I lift my chin to meet his glare.

“Whatever… look, I’m not in the mood. Go inside and read a textbook or something. Count your good girl certificates. You make your mom soooo proud.” Dane shrugs off my words, his brows knitting together, shakes his head, and pastes a frown on that pretty boy face before moving to leave, but this whole dismissive crap and the constant put-downs he throws my way notches up my temper a gear further.

I hate him. I hate how he wastes his life and causes drama constantly and, whenever confronted, acts like this.

“You're not the only one, you know? Who got hurt, who lost their family, and everything was uprooted….I was the other kid. My home was pulled apart too. Our parents did this to both of us…. Do you ever think about that?” My voice is tense, and emotion tints it, so I sound huskier as tears mist my eyes with the sheer frustration this boy causes me. “At least your parents stayed in the same county for the past decade, and you could see them anytime. It was your choice to spend the bare minimum here. My dad moved his entire business to New York so he wouldn’t have to witness my mom happy in her new life. I hardly see him, and I got no say in that.”

Dane stops mid-walk, tilts his head back, and stares skyward before exhaling so heavily like I’m the most annoying thing on the planet. He murmurs under his breath and then turns his head my way.

“Bye, Kayla… I’m done. I’m not talking about this. Same record, different day. Goodnight.” He moves off, walking at the same slow pace, raising a hand casually, and gestures for me to go away at the side of his head, his back to me again. Emotion swirls up in my throat, my fiery side taking grip, and I stalk after him. Something deep inside gripping this insane need to shake some sense into this moron.

“You’re selfish and arrogant and act like this tough bad boy who hates his dad, but if you really didn’t want to be here, you would have gone to London…… Why piggyback my grades, huh? Surely an out to leave was the best you could have asked for.” I stomp at his heels, catching the back of his shirt, and tug him to a halt with a vicious yank, my voice trembling with the sheer anger I am trying to hold in.

Dane stops so abruptly that I walk into the back of him with an ooomph noise, bang my forehead on his spine, and stumble back, rubbing my face.

“Why are you following me? You're like a chihuahua chewing on my leg… go away, Mosquito.” he turns, pushing his two forefingers into the center of my forehead, and nudges me back with a gentle prod, making me bend backward, and I slap it away hard.