The Player

Chapter 4

Brielle

12:46 PM

"What is wrong with you!" I groaned, throwing my hands up in the air in frustration. We were still in the Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

janitor's closet, because Christopher's genius idea was to push us in without having the keys needed to

get us out. I currently sat on the floor, already surrendered to the fact that we were stuck.

He continued to jiggle the door handle, somehow thinking that after five minutes of trying, it would

magically open.

"Jiggling the door know won't do anything but break it," I reminded him, even though he continued

anyway.

"Well at least I'm trying to do something." He said. "But don't worry, you sitting on your a$s is doing

wonders to help us." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "So, unless you have a better idea, just keep

sitting there and looking pretty. Preferably with your mouth shut."

"So you think that I'm pretty?" I asked, teasingly. "Be careful, I wouldn't want you to get feelings for me."

"A big head doesn't look good on you," he said, still jiggling at the door knob.

"Yours already takes up way too much room anyway." I replied, rolling my eyes.

"There's other big things about me if you want to find out." he wiggled his eyebrows, insinuating

something that I did not want to think about.

Ignoring his crude remark, I rubbed my temples, hoping that it would help me clear my head.

He seemed to have given up on the door, as he turned around and slid down the door with his back

against it, now facing towards me. He placed his head in between his legs, before sitting up straight

and pushing his hair back with his hand.

From this angle, I had a chance to get a good look at him. No matter how much I despised him, I

couldn't help but admit that he was attractive. He had light brown hair and piercing green eyes that

always made the girls swoon. He had thick eyebrows, a very muscular build, and a crooked nose that

was broken multiple times from football. His lips were pink and from the kiss that we had previously, I

could say first hand that they were very soft. Like a baby's bottom kind of soft if you know what I mea-

Mid-way through my thought, Christopher let out a cough, aware of the fact that I was checking him

out.

"Like what you see?" He asked, his lips pulled up in a smirk.

I cringed at the thought that I added to his already inflated ego, and knew that I had to knock him down

a peg.

"No, I was just staring at your nose. It's a wonder that you can even breath with how crooked that thing

is. It's practically a beak. You should really see if there are any openings to be the face of fruit loops

because you and toucan Sam have an uncanny resemblance. You know I can make a call if you'd lik- "

"Ok that's enough," he said, trying to hide a smile on his face. "What is your issue with me anyway?"

"I don't have an issue with you." I crossed my arms, knowing that was a lie.

"BS." Apparently, he could tell too. "You hate me but you don't even know me."

I rolled my eyes. "But that's the thing Christopher, I don't need to know you. I know guys like you. I've

even dated a guy like you, and you're all the same. You're just entitled rich kids who are used to

everything being given to you, so you don't even know how to work hard for anything. You treat girls

like objects, because they are objects to you. And you practically believe that you own the place, and

walk around the halls with everyone kissing the ground that you walk on because they believe it too."

"So, if having an issue with you means that I don't treat like you're royalty or that you're somehow

better than everyone else, then yes, Christopher Russel, I have an issue with you."

I stared at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face looked stone cold. Either what I said had no

effect on him, or he was good at hiding his emotions.

"So, it all makes sense now." he said nodding his head.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What makes sense."

"Your whole "I hate guys like you" rant. Some guy broke your heart, probably cheated on you because

of how hurt you are, and now your bitter and taking it out on me because you don't have the balls to

take it out on the guy who actually hurt you."

I stayed silent and looked away, embarrassed at the fact that he was able to figure out all of that about

my ex just from what I said.

God am I that transparent?

He continued talking, taking my silence as confirmation that he was right.

"So, save your self-righteousness for the next guy, because I see right through you."

I felt tears well up in my eyes, as memories of my ex, Derrick, resurfaced. I stared at the ceiling trying

to keep them from falling down my face, but it didn't work.

"Crap Brielle, are you ok?" He asked, suddenly noticing my state. "I didn't mean-"

Just then, the door opened, as the janitor locked eyes with us in confusion. I quickly got up, briskly

wiping off my tears before practically running out the door. Before I could leave, his hand locked onto

my arm, pulling me towards him.

"Seriously," He said, concern riddled in his eyes. "I'm sorr- "

"It's fine." I quickly responded, shaking my arm out from his grasp. "Just be at the studio at nine

tomorrow."

I turned around and headed out the door, now letting the tears fall freely from my face. The memories

that I tried so hard to bury deep inside my head now resurfacing.

"You really think that you can do better than me?" Derrick said.

Stop thinking about him. I reminded myself, now sprinting to my car. Stop.

"You're nothing but trash."

I now reached my car, placing my head on the steering wheel, as I allowed my sobs to overtake me.

"You're worthless."