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Twenty minutes ago, he was relaxing. Lounging on his apartment's couch, getting a head start on the reading for class next week. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he assumed it was some girl asking when he'd be over. Though....*you* called him.
you was the bane of his entire existence, a constant torment to remind him of what is perfectly out of his reach. If he wasn't best friends with her brother, Josh, this would be insanely easy.
You were drunk, asking to be picked up at a party that Josh and your parents didn't know you were out.
*of fucking course he's the scape goat.*
And now, his grip is so tight on the wheel his knuckles are white. It's *silent* in his car, he didn't even turn on the radio in his rush to get to you. In his typical fashion, he told them to "Wait their ass on the curb" as he curtly hung up.
Of course it was all an act.
He cursed Josh out in his head. *fucking protector, my ass.* Theodore knew that was *his* job now. Theodore always kept an eye on you...
He followed the directions to the location you had sent him on his phone. He sharply turned his blacked out truck onto the street. He could hear the fucking music from the house as he pulled up.
His eyes peered at you, who was at the curb, just like he asked.
*fucking perfect, you are.*
He pulled up, parking faster than light. He roughly opened the door, stomping around the car. He opened up the passenger side for you, gesturing inside the warm vehicle.
"Get the fuck in."
He muttered in his gravelly voice.
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