Close To The Dangerous Bad Boy novel Chapter 1

I saw him...ripping her clothes off.

My throat seemed to constrict and the air around me was vanishing, causing my lungs to shrivel up as I almost refused to breathe, refused to move, refused to make any sound at all.

He had her pressed against the wall. His hand was slowly slipping up her naked thigh, revealing black-lace pantyhose. Soon his hand disappeared under her skirt.

She started breathing harshly through her mouth, I could hear her moaning as she grabbed and sunk her pointy red nails into his neck.

She raised her head up and closed her eyes in a lustful way...she couldn't be less than forty years old.

He unbuttoned her neat white blouse and sunk his face in her freckled chest. He pulled in closer and she started unzipping his pants.

His lips were slowly moving from her breasts to her neck...and then he turned his eyes upon me. His dark brown eyes pierced mine with a silent surprise.

I could feel the heart pounding in my ears and the air got heavier and heavier...I ran.

I had enough problems in my life, I didn't need for the school bad boy to be one of them. I've heard stories about him...that he owned a stolen motorbike, that he was actually twenty-three years of age and was still in the 2nd year of high school, that he's used every drug, even hard drugs like cocaine and heroin. He beat up a guy, just because he threw an empty bottle near his feet. And I caught him having sex with a forty year old woman at the school backyard...I could only imagine what he would do to me just for witnessing that.

I got sick to my stomach.

I didn't want to go back to school tomorrow...life was beating me down at school and at home. I was never good at socializing, so I didn't have any friends. But my problems go way back, all the way to my mom.

My mom has OCD. That's an obsessive-compulsive disorder. Basically it's an anxiety disorder, full of intrusive thoughts that produce fear, uneasiness and repetitive behaviours.

She has to lock the door three times. She doesn't eat or touch anything yellow. She washes her hands at least twenty-times a day. She won't go up or down the stairs, if there are more than twenty. She always counts the commercials in between films.

My father left us when I was three. When I asked my mom what was the reason for his departure, her answer simply stated: "Because he hated me." If that was true, if he really did hate her, then we were better off without him. She might not be the best mom in the world, but still, she is my mom.

I felt such relief when the hot, bloody life force was running out of my veins...I forgot about the emotional pain, and focused only on the physical one. And trust me, the physical pain couldn't even begin to compare to the emotional one.

So yes, my life wasn't that great to begin with, and I didn't want for it to get worse because of Lucas Dashwood, the ultimate rebel.

I couldn't get those dark, piercing eyes out of my mind. His lips seemed so warm, and gentle on her...would someone ever kiss me like that?

I shook my head to get that ridiculous thought out of my head... what was I thinking...the only physical attention intended for me would most likely be in the negative spectrum. Like a slap in the face. And I will probably receive that tomorrow. Ugh, I didn't want to think about that!

In the morning I heard the grinding noise coming from the door lock. The door were locked three times, like every morning.

Lock. Unlock. Lock. Unlock. Lock. My mom left for work.

A stream of light suddenly exploded in my face and woke me up from whatever drowsiness I had left from last night dreams. I tried to slowly open my eyes, adjusting to the dim bedroom light. Once my shocked retinas adjusted to the filtered sunlight, I noticed my old, black school bag sitting on the desk, waiting for me. That reminded me of that unfortunate incident that happened yesterday…I swallowed saliva and hid under the covers. My nerves were doing jumping jacks. I really didn't want to face him in the school today…