Why is it always me who falls for the troubled guys? The ones with the scars, the bruises, the scrapes. The ones with the horrific back stories, with the abusive step-dads and whore-ish mums. Why is it always me who falls for the runaway?
There he was. His cheek was scraped and bloody, his urchin-curls messy as ever. He looked so out of place in his school shirt and tie, black trousers and jumper. His sleeves were rolled up to below the elbow, as usual, and there was a new, yellowing bruise on his left forearm. I sighed. Who was doing this to him? It couldn't be anyone at school... He'd only been here a term, but already the popular guys respected him, even if he wasn't destined to be part of the "IT" crowd. He had a small group of friends, but mainly kept to himself, making him even more alluringly mysterious. He is Lync Brown, the hottest guy in school. Well, as far as I was concerned.
He had tan skin, big, brown eyes and a mop of black curls. He was tall and lean, with muscles that bulged like tennis balls when he flexed. He was one of those guys who you could just tell had a six-pack under his shirt. He was so achingly troubled.
He bunked off every other lesson, drank himself stupid every weekend, and came to school everyday with new bruises and battle-scars. All of his rebelliousness only made me want him more. Because I'm stupid like that.