Chapter 6

Ramsay watched the blonde exiting the bathroom, and frowned to himself, seeing the way her nose and cheeks were pinkish, eyes glinting red in the light. She didn’t pay any attention to him or the other customers as she made her way back to the counter. Jessy briefly touched her shoulder, and Emmie managed a small smile for her before visibly sniffling and going back to work.

The boy didn’t have much time left till his shift in the bar on the Southside, and as Ani had left while the girl was in the bathroom, he tried to stop himself from falling into conclusions or deep into his thoughts.

Emmie’s mother had basically told her she was fat. And not only was that untrue, but it was also mean and stupid. Especially as a mother. The problem was that Ramsay wasn’t sure if it was the first time, or it had happened before. Maybe Emmie was just sensitive and that’s why she had cried? Or maybe, it happened often.

He didn’t know.

But he did know his shift was in 15 minutes, and he was already late. So, getting up from his booth, he walked to the counter where the blonde girl was making some milkshakes for the customers, as always. “Hey,” he said.

Emmie’s eyes looked up at him as she smiled. “Hey. Ready to pay?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded, wiping her hands clean before finding his bill. Ramsay smiled a bit at her surprised face when he handed her a lot more tips than normally. “Um…”

“The coffee and the pie,” he said.

“Oh. No, Ramsay, that’s okay. It’s on me.”

“I know,” he shrugged, a small smile lingering on his lips, Emmie’s cheeks turning pink from the calm look in his eyes. “Bye, Emmie.”

The blonde exhaled, a bit more sharply than usual as she gave her head a few nods. “Bye, Ramsay.”

The boy had a smile on his face all the way to his bike, and when he finally jumped on it, turning the engine on, Emmie’s eyes were still watching him the way he always watched her.

#

“Jones.”

Ramsay looked at one of the boys his age, giving him a singular nod. “Ferrol.”

“Two rum and cokes.”

The beanie-wearing guy rolled his eyes and made the cocktail, accepting the money he earned from it. Everyone knew very well that the kids weren’t supposed to drink, but they were all familiar with each other. And therefore, everyone who was underage doubled the price if they wanted to get drunk, half of it going to the bartender’s pocket, as a tip. Ramsay didn’t mind.

“Since when do you drink, Ferrol?” Ramsay asked.

“Pea wanted to do shots. Got him to agree with the cocktails.” And just like that, he was gone from the counter, leaving Ramsay rolling his eyes again.

Peaton was the ‘leader’ of the younger ones, just like him. Everything he said mattered. And even though Ramsay didn’t want to accept the place as the Viper king in the future, it still pissed him off that Peaton’s position in the gang was as high as his. The Joneses had created the Vipers. And he wanted to have a louder and clearer voice than people like Peaton or Rick.

But instead, not many people listened.

No one ever did.

#

The next day, Ramsay woke up at his father stumbling home, cursing loudly, and almost walking into a wall. The boy stood with a sigh, dragging his hand over his face and hair, trying to gain balance from the fast wake-up call. “Dad,” he muttered, grabbing the man’s upper arm.

BT cursed at him, growling something inaudible and about to raise his hand, but the boy restrained it quickly, walking the man to his bedroom. The moment he fell onto the bed, he was out like a light, leaving it Ramsay’s responsibility to tug his boots off. The boy put a blanket over the guy and left some pills and a glass of water on his crappy bedside table before moving back to the living room—his room.

It was close to 6 am and seemed to be drizzling a bit outside, all of which gave Ramsay a stupid, strange kind of energy boost. He loved weather like this and loved the smell of nature. Usually, in the mornings, he was too tired to go outside, but tugging on his sweatpants and a tank top, he stepped out of the trailer. His hair had still stayed in its tousled and messy state but as Ramsay jogged out of the trailer park, there was a stupid smile on his face—the kind he never had around anyone anymore.

His feet carried him inside the woods and to the shore of the river, finding a small path there that he had known since he was a kid. Lately, not having had much time for himself, he hadn’t been there for a while. But now that he was, something inside him was genuinely happy as he planted himself on a rock next to the river.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in the fresh scent of the river, enjoying the water droplets landing on his head, making his hair and clothes damp. Thankfully, he was only in a tank top which allowed his shoulders to receive the rain as well, every small muscle in his body relaxing. The silence was incredibly comforting.

Until it wasn’t.

Ramsay’s eyes opened as he watched the girl on the other side of the river. Blonde hair, killer legs… Emmie Davis.

And fuck. She was wearing yoga pants and a tight sports shirt as she jogged down the river’s shore, the clothing revealing her natural body shape and leaving her ass—control yourself.

Hopping onto his feet easily, Ramsay started jogging in the same direction as her. His eyes stayed on the moving girl, knowing a bridge would come soon enough, and hoping she wasn’t going to turn back or run to the other direction before that would happen and he’d have the chance to cross it.

The blonde stopped abruptly about two hundred feet before the bridge, making the boy almost groan as he sped up. He watched how she turned to face the forest next to her, and then, slowly, walked into it. Frowning, Ramsay kept running, holding his eyes on her, until he realized that she maybe needed to go to the bathroom, and that’s why she was squatting down.

Turning his head away, he felt like a creepy pervert, but as he looked back a minute later, the girl was still crouching on the ground, a small silver camera in her hands.

Ramsay crossed the bridge, slowing his pace, eyes lingering on the blonde hair that turned golden under the rising sun.

And then he fell.

It all seemed to be happening so fast, but incredibly slow at the same time. One moment a curse word left his mouth as he fought for balance, the girl’s head turned, revealing her emerald eyes, and the next, he was on the ground.

“Fuck,” he groaned, starting to push himself up by the hands that were flat on the ground, and only then realizing, while wincing, that both of them were bleeding. He sat up, eyes flickering to his knees, sighing thankfully as he noticed the pants didn’t have holes in them and had just gotten dirty. Repeating the curse word under his breath as he felt the girl’s gaze on him, he stood, wincing once more.

“Gotta be kidding me,” he murmured as he understood his ankle was injured in some horrible way he had never known before

“You okay?” her voice rang, high and clear, but full of worry.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, testing his left leg by jumping on it a bit, only making it hurt more.

“Woah, you shouldn’t do that,” Emmie said, grabbing his shoulders in the attempt to hold him down. He let her, knowing he would’ve had the possibility to move, but didn’t. “Sit,” the girl instructed, nudging her head at the big rocks next to the river.

Ramsay did as she asked and frowned when he didn’t see the camera she had previously had with her anywhere anymore. “Hey, didn’t you have a…” the guy trailed off as her eyes jumped back onto his face, squatting in front of him in order to look at his ankle.

He gulped, forcing his mind away from all the thoughts creeping inside it. Why was she in front of him in this position? It was raining and the ponytail was a bit messier than usual, her face damp from the drizzling water that fell from the sky, a glint of sunlight illuminating one of her emerald eyes, making it even deeper and losing him somewhere inside it.

“Didn’t I have a what?” Emmie asked, eyebrows raising at his lost face.

Gulping again, the boy shook his head. He hadn’t been with too many girls but he knew that position was for when—don’t go there. “A camera,” he said. “Didn’t you have a camera?”

The girl frowned, giving one last look to his ankle before pushing herself back onto her feet. “Yeah…” She held her hand up, revealing the small silver camera in it, a band around her wrist.

Ramsay exhaled sharply, feeling like an idiot. “Oh, yeah, okay. Of course.”

Emmie’s eyes narrowed a bit as her lips twitched, carefully letting the camera drop from her palm and simply swing against her forearm. He looked at it for a moment, and then, eyes widening, observed the way her hands reached for his.

Both of hers grabbed his gently, turning the palms to face the sky. Ramsay winced when the water landed on them, but let Emmie’s soft hands work on getting the small rocks out of his skin. When both of his hands were done, his eyes still lingering on her face, he saw the way her eyes turned away for a moment before looking up at his face.

“Come on, wash them in the river,” she murmured, her hand gripping his wrist gently and tugging him to stand up.

“Do you know if my ankle is broken?” Ramsay asked, a huge frown on his face as the girl still hadn’t let go when he limped towards the river.

She produced something similar to a snort and a chuckle, and the boy wasn’t exactly certain which one it was. “Definitely not broken. And you jumped on it without falling, so I think maybe it’s a mild sprain or something. Should recover with a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” he asked, eyes growing wide.

The blonde looked at him, a miniature smirk lingering on her lips. “I’m sorry to inform you, tough guy, but these things won’t go away with minutes. You should tie it up if you can.”

“Fuck,” Ramsay cursed again, making a face while squatting in pain, and dipping his hands into the river. “Ow,” he murmured.

“And your hands aren’t too bad either. Try to avoid doing dishes and stuff because cuts on your palms sting like a bitch.”

He was taken aback by her choice of words, and obviously still feeling embarrassed and bad about everything that had happened, which was why, instead of laughing or asking her how did she know about all of it, something inside him snapped.

“You wouldn’t know.” His tone came out darker and angrier than he had planned on, and the girl straightened up a bit, the smile gone from her face as she simply nodded.

“I’m uh… You okay to get home by yourself?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped.

“Okay,” Emmie breathed. “I’m… just gonna go then. See you,” she said, catching the camera back into his hand, and fisting her hands, she turned her back to him, running back to where she had come from.

“Fucking idiot,” Ramsay muttered to himself and with his foot, kicked the rock closest to him, looking at the way Emmie moved, until even the tip of her ponytail couldn’t be seen anymore.