After two and a half hours of arguing with myself, I finally made my decision.
I head to the bathroom in the hall-way and take a long, warm shower. After cleansing my body and washing my hair, I kind of stand there, going over the boys words.
"You busy tonight?"
"Why?" I had responded.
"We're gonna have some fun, that's why."
He spoke with such confidence and determination, like he knew my answer already. Thousands of thoughts race through my mind about him. He could be a rapist or murder or something. I have never seen him around here, which could confirm my theory. I mean, I could ask my dad, but he would get suspicious if I leave with the boy. He doesn't seem like a threat, just cocky. He acts like he knows everything and everyone, but also kind and sweet.
Should I really be trusting this complete stranger? I have no reasons to why I should trust him and several reasons why I shouldn't. He scared me, followed me home, tried to make out with me, followed me yet again, and is now taking me out to God knows where.
Probably not the wisest decision.
I rub my hands over my face, the water becoming colder the longer I stand there. After a while, I turn off the water and step out, wrapping myself in my towel. Walking back to my room, I look at the clock on my wall. It's now 6 o' clock. Two more hours. Second thoughts corse through my mind and I decide not to go. It's just a recipe for disaster. Going out with some hot guy that was wandering the streets. My life's not a movie so this won't end in a fairy tale.
I sit on my bed, still wrapped in my towel and grab my phone. I scroll through my contacts, trying to find what he put as his contact name. Finally, at the bottom of the list, I find his number.
Your Mystery Boy.
I feel butterflies in my stomach at what he called himself. Your mystery boy. My mystery boy. A blush creeps onto my cheeks, a small smile forms, but I tell myself it means nothing. He's only trying to get on my sweet side. He's only trying to convince me he doesn't want to just have sex with me. But he does.
I type out a text, letting him know I won't be going tonight, that I'm not feeling too well. I hope he believes my lie, I doubt he will though. I barely do. It's an over used excuse, but I can't think of anything else. It's just easier to pretend to be sick than say your have something to do.
My finger hovers over the send button. Everything he said to me replays in my head.
"didn't think you would anyways"
"I'm just not a pussy like other people"
"You even dress like a goodie-goodie"
Goodie-Goodie.
That's what got me the most. I'm not a virgin, I've had some drinks before, along with some crazy stories. I've learned over the years that people are rude and it just infuriates me. Why can't he just leave me alone? If I don't want to smoke, I don't want to smoke. If I don't want to make out, I don't want to make out. Simple as that. He thinks he knows everything, but he doesn't.
I delete the text and set my phone down. I'm going to prove this guy wrong. I am nothing like he believes I am. I am not a goodie-goodie, I can promise you that.
Drying off my body, I start to get dressed. I put on a pair of black panties and bra, along with a red bandeau. I look for a pair of blue-jean shorts and a black AC/DC muscle-tee.
I blow dry my hair so it's mostly dry, I have an hour and a half, it will dry over time. I split my hair into three sections and start to French-braid it. After several attempts, I end up with the braid starting in the middle, on the back of my head. I put on a thick line of black eyeliner, mascara, and a mixture of brown eyeshadows. I decide on a small amount of pale pink lipstick to top if off.
