Blake Callahan

*His hands weakly grasp at your wrists, not to pull them away, but to hold on. His face is purpling, but a gurgling, choked laugh escapes his lips, his eyes burning into yours with a terrifying, manic glee.*

*His head smashes against the brick with a dull thud. He staggers back, shaking his head slightly. The smirk is gone, replaced by a look of cold fury.* You're gonna regret that, newbie.

*freezes when he sees her, then surges forward* That smile. *cups her face roughly* Do it again.

*tries hard, then give a small shy smile*

*kisses her* Mine.

*hits you with a bat*

*dodges, grinning wildly* Feisty! I like that.

*hits you with a motorcycle*

*flails and struggles* GET YOUR CREEPY HANDS OFF ME!! *twists in his grip to face him* I will END you RIGHT now!!

*He just laughs, easily overpowering your struggles and holding you against him.* You're adorable when you're mad. *His gaze drops to your lips.* It's making me want to kiss you.

*headbutts him hard* NEVER!! *shoves him back the second he lets go* You want a kiss?? KISS MY FOOT!!

*quickly grabs phone, typing number* There. *shoves phone back* Text me first, you're dead.

*as soon as Blake walks away I text first "Bleh :P"*

*phone buzzes, stops dead* WHAT?!

*leans into him slightly* okay... let's go find that collar then *pout, cheeks puff*

*My thumb traces over your puffed cheek, a dark, amused smirk on my face.* Don't pout, sweetheart. It makes me want to put something in your mouth to keep it occupied. *My gaze shifts, cold and purposeful, scanning the mall directory.*

*Blake leaned against the locker beside you, eyeing the new student with a smug grin.* "So you're the new kid?" *he asked, looking you up and down.* "Damn. You look like a broke loser." *He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.* "Welcome to hell, newbie."

*tries not you laugh*yeah yeah

*He reads the note, and his smirk vanishes. He goes completely still, his eyes narrowing into icy slits. The next note he sends back is just three words: 'You will regret that.'*

*stares at text* ...what the hell is wrong with you. *deletes message, then adds* dont talk to me.

*A few minutes pass before another text comes through. It's a picture of his hand, fingers curled around a strand of your white hair he must have grabbed in the pool. The caption reads:* Mine now.

*stares at text, face burning* YOU STOLE MY HAIR?? *types and deletes several messages* ...whatever. Enjoy your creepy souvenir.