A/N: I try to strive for alternating chapters between Jamie and Scar, but I realized this chapter would be much more effective in Jamie's POV. So I'm sorry for having his POV two chapters in a row. It is what it is. And also, if you take a moment to read the author's note at the end of the chapter, you'll find some very interesting news!

• • •

And if you hurt me that's okay

Baby only words bleed

Chapter 13 ~ Photograph

Jamie Myers

I woke up to the sound of my phone blasting an annoying ringtone at an ungodly hour. It had taken me hours to fall asleep considering the fact that my mattress might as well have been a piece of cardboard, so whoever was on the other line would have to face my wrath.

Rolling over to my side and wrapping myself into my sheets, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Without even bothering to check the caller ID, I answered the call and pressed the phone to my ear. "What," I spat into the phone, not having any remorse for the person on the other end.

"Hey," Scar's voice echoed throughout my ears. "Good morning."

It was to safe to say that hearing Scar's voice made my eyes open a little, but I was still tired as hell. "What? Scar, it's six in the morning."

He gasped. "Oh, is it?" He asked in a dumb innocent voice. "I didn't realize."

"Didn't realize," I muttered under my breath as I dragged a lazy hand aross my face and groaned lousily. "Jesus, Scar. I'm going back to bed."

"Wait!" he pleaded. "I was wondering if you want to come over today? I wanna go over some of the demographics for the kissing booth because I'm not really that good at math so I'm not sure how much money I should be making. Tomorrow will be the last day of Carnival Week and I want to make sure I have enough money for those uniforms once I take away the money for myself and the money you wanted. Plus, the doctor told me I had to stay in bed all day and it'll be so much more fun if you were here."

"Demographics?" I questioned while chuckling a bit, though it sounded like a hoarse groan. "It's way too early to be saying all these big words, Scar. I can barely understand."

He paused for a brief moment, almost like he was thinking of what to say. "I want to see you today," he said casually, as if it was something he said on a daily basis. It bothered me that Scar was taking our whole relationship in stride. We kissed, maybe, but I had expected Scar to freak out over it and tell me to stop being a faggot - despite the fact that he was the one who initiated it.

"Okay," I agreed anyway because I was just a sucker for anything slightly romantic that came out of Scar's mouth. "I'll try to stop by after school."

"Cool," he replied and then after a while, he continued, "Jamie, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"How was it?" he asked me. "You know, the kiss."

I tried to stop myself from laughing. Was he seriously asking me to talk about how I felt when we kissed? I was pretty much open to doing almost anything, but I was definitely not open to discussing my feelings with Scar. "It was all right."

His voice faltered. "All right? Just all right?"

"Yep," I said coolly, taking pride in the fact that it must've dented his ego. "I'll see you after school." Without giving him time to respond, I hung up the phone and tossed it to the side.

As I laid there in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling fan that never spun, I couldn't help but smile to myself. For the first time, in the history of my seventeen years on earth, I think I might just have a boyfriend. A real boyfriend. Not a boy that I hooked up with some nights and forgot about. This was a real boy. A real boy with pretty green eyes and a heart stopping smile. And that boy was mine.

Well, for the moment, anyway.

My phone rang again and I rolled my eyes, knowing that it was probably Scar trying to confirm that I had indeed enjoyed our kiss. I would never admit it to him, even if it killed him.

"Patterson, these early morning phone calls are starting to seem a bit sentimental, even for someone like you," I said as soon as I answered the phone.

Only it wasn't Scar's voice who responded. "Myers."

I felt my heart sink to my knees when I realized that I was talking to my boss, and not Scar. "Oh my god, I thought you were someone else. Sorry. Yeah, what do you need?" Despite trying to hold a professional conversation, my mind kept drifting to the time that the boss and I had sex. After that experience, there was no way I could think of him in a professional manner after seeing and feeling things that weren't so professional.

"Change of plans," he said in his deep, smooth voice. He had that kind of voice that made anything he said sound sexy. "I'll need another car by today."

"What?" I questioned him. "You said Tuesday."

"I know what I said," he snapped dryly, "and now I'm saying I need another car by the end of today."

To find a semi-new car in good condition that also happened to be hot wireable in a non-conspicuous setting, I needed a few days to plan ahead. I couldn't steal a car with just a day's notice. "I can't," I told him. "I have plans for today. I won't be able to steal anything."

I could tell he was growing impatient. "Cancel them."

"I can't just-"

"Cancel them," he reiterated, "or you're out of a job. That simple."

I grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged on it in frustration. I had already promised Scar that I'd stop by after school and I intended to keep that promise. After all, it would only be a matter of time before he snapped out of his trance and damned me to hell again.

"I can't do it today," I barked, surprised at my own voice. Never did I think that I would be able to stand up to the boss like that. "If you want to fire me, then fine. But I can't get you a car today."

He let out a low chuckle that ran shivers down my spine. "You're bold, Myers. I like that about you."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Tell you what. You can forget about getting me another car, only if you do something else in return." There was something oddly suggestive in his voice.

I raised a brow. "What is it?"

"Come to my office so I can fuck you senseless again," he demanded before abruptly ending the call.

Moments after the phone went dead, I was still staring absentmindedly into space with my phone pressed between my shoulder and my ear. I had to have been frozen in that position for a few minutes, still shocked from the boss' explicit words.

Mere seconds later, my phone lit up with a text message from the boss, giving nothing but an unfamiliar address.

Jillian stirred in her sleep in the twin bed beside mine and groaned softly, "Why are you up so early?" She asked me, though it could easily be mistaken for her just talking to herself since her eyes were still squeezed shut.

"No reason," I responded anyway as I kicked my legs out from under the sheets and frantically searched for something to wear. "But you know what they say, the early bird gets the worm."

With her eyes still closed, she pulled her brows together and nuzzled her face into her pillow. "You're disgusting."

**

By the time I arrived at the unknown address, the sun was just starting to peek through the clouds. I hated being up so early when I could've been sound asleep in the middle of a dream about Zac Efron. Instead, I was fully dressed in a pair of dark jeans and white t-shirt, patiently waiting for the boss the open the door.

This place was different. Normally, I met him in vacant places like abandoned houses or destroyed warehouses. We never met in well-populated areas like the seemingly rich neighborhood I was currently in. The house itself looked like celebrity status, and I didn't think that the boss had that kind of money. But then again, I didn't really know anything about him.

He opened the door only halfway and poked his head through the narrow opening. "You're here," he said in a dull, unenthusiastic tone.

"Yeah, uh, you wanted me to come?"

He responded by looking me up and down before kicking the door open wider, allowing me to enter the house. He didn't attempt to make small talk, which I guess was sort of his thing. He liked to be mysterious and I wouldn't be the one to complain.

The interior of the house looked just as expensive as the outside. The taupe colored walls brought a conservative look to the living room and the hardwood floors were so polished that I was able to see my reflection in them. Everything was neatly placed. The furniture, the shelves, the paintings, the decorations - everything.

I couldn't associate the boss as being a neat freak, judging from his rugged and mysterious manner. At the same time, I concluded that it had to be his house based on the way he slid his shirt over his head and draped it over the spotless white sofa, like he owned it. And maybe he did.

"Is this your house?" I blurted out finally.

He turned to face me with one brow raised. He didn't expect me to ask that. As he began to unbutton his pants, he responded anyway, "Yes, this is my house."

I knew the house had to have cost major money. "How did you get the money to..."

"Let's just say that selling stolen cars is just one of my specialities," he finished for me. "I get away with plenty of illegal things, Myers. Like having sex with a minor, for example."

Huffing loudly, I folded my arms across my chest and walked towards him. "So, you're saying that I'm busting my ass off trying to find cars for you, and you just sit there and get rich?"

He pulled his lips into a lopsided smirk. "Ah, and what a beautiful ass it is." He snaked his arm around my waist, bringing me closer to him and crashing his lips on mine. All questions I had thought of asking were completely wiped from my mind because all I could think about was him and how he tasted, how he smelled, and how he was about to render me breathless.

He didn't waste any time in trailing his hands down my stomach and fiddling with my zipper. Not once did he remove his lips from mine which was probably due to the fact that I had my arms enclosed around his neck, pulling us closer together.

Once my pants were loose around my waist, the boss stuck his hand down my boxers, tracing my ass and cupping my cheeks. I let out a sharp yelp in response which made him smile against my lips, but he didn't bother to stop or slow down. His hands worked quickly, trying to take in every inch of my body until he managed to slip my shirt over my head and pull my jeans down to the floor.

He parted from our heated kiss only for a mere second to look at me with his dark, lustful eyes. It was almost like he was looking for confirmation, which he already should've known I agreed to when I stepped into the house.

<3

I was attracted to my boss. There was no doubt. But it wasn't the same kind of attraction I felt with Scar. This attraction was simply on a sexual basis, whereas I wanted to be with Scar in every way, shape and form. Admitting that to my self was certainly a revelation for me, and it scared the hell out of me because I never liked someone to this extent before.

I didn't know what brought me to think that the boss would be able to help me understand my current relationship with Scar, but when he collapsed beside me on his large king bed, breathing heavily, I had to ask. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

His breathing slowly returned back to normal. "What?"

"I like a boy," I began, "and I think he likes me back. Well, I don't really know. He's straight, or at least I thought he was. He just ... Confuses me. I know he's in love with his ex-girlfriend, but he kissed me and now he wants to spend more time with me. He's so fucking bipolar, and it's so fucking cute."

The boss remained still with his dark eyes gazing over at me and his lips pressed firmly into a line. There was an odd intensity in the way he looked at me, like he was actually listening and absorbing the information. I never expected him to do that. He never did it before, so why would I? Our relationship had been strictly business, but now all the boundaries were blurred.

Suddenly, he reached out and began to twirl a lock of my tousled hair around his finger. "I dated a psychologist, once," he told me while keeping his eyes glued to mine. "He was in denial about his sexuality, but I didn't press him because I liked having sex with him. Even if it meant that he would hate himself in the morning."

The boss inched closer to me, his fingers still tangled in my hair and his mocha skin barely brushing against my bare body. Somehow, that brief contact felt a thousands times more intimate than any of the sex we had.

After a brief period of silence, he continued, "the only way he could do it ... The only way he could be with me was to tell himself homosexual behavior wasn't the same as homosexual orientation. It was sort of his mantra, really. It was the only way he could survive."

"Is there some sort of moral to this story?" I asked rather rudely, trying to the get to the point.

"No," he snarled. "That's the point. There is no moral. Just like there is no direct answer to whether your crush is gay or not. Everyone tries to coin the name bicurious, but I think it's more than that. I think that people tend to be attracted to things that are different, things that excite them, things that make them a different person. If that thing happens to be someone of the same sex, then so be it. It's nature. You can't mess with nature."

I exhaled heavily and shut my eyes in an attempt to get a better sense of his words. "So, what are you saying?"

"Being attracted to someone and liking someone are two different things. And that's when the lines can be blurred.

The boss had never said so much to me about something other than cars, so I've been missing out on all of this wisdom. "You're right," I said quietly. "I'm attracted to him because he's a dude, but I like him because he's such a gullible, worrying, lovesick jerk."

He screwed his face in disgust. "He doesn't sound too pleasing."

I waved a hand, dismissing the thought. "It's complicated, but thanks for the insight though. I should probably get going. This kinda carried on a bit too long." I made a move to inch off the bed, but he grabbed onto my hand, stopping me in my tracks.

"I'll drive you," he proposed with his dark eyes boring into mine. "And I couldn't send you off to school without a well balanced nutritional breakfast," he breathed in a seductive voice, as he tugged me closer to him and nibbled gently on my ear.

I was starting to get all hot and flustered and if I allowed the boss to have his way, then I would never leave. Slowly pulling away from him, I smiled weakly. "I think I deserve to know your actual name. You know, since we've had sex two times now."

"My name?" He questioned, seemingly taken aback by my sudden question. "Dante."

"Dante," I repeated, allowing my tongue to get used to the name. "That's hot."

He chuckled to himself as he ran a hand through my hair. "Among other things," he added with a smug grin. "Now, let's get you to school. I don't think having tons of hot sex counts as an excused absence."

School was a different story. Although I wasn't interested in education in the slightest, knowing that my future of stealing cars seemed to be set in stone, I still had to attend school to keep up my appearances. After a certain amount of absences, they'd call Janice, and she would beat me for disobeying her.

So in an effort to remain bruise free, I allowed Dante to give me a ride to school in his more-than-conspicuous expensive car. He didn't seem to mind though, so I didn't mind either.

"I'll seriously need another car by Tuesday," he called out as I stepped out the car. "My demand is growing."

I leaned against the roof of the car and pulled my lips into a comical smile. "Was this all a ruse to get me in bed with you?"

"Maybe, maybe not." He shrugged in complete and utter nonchalance before sending a satisfied smile my way and taking off in his all-black luxury car.

I stood there, looking out into the distance as his car became just a small dot in my vision. I gripped onto the straps of my backpack and shook my head in disbelief. As I turned towards the main doors, I found myself thinking about Max.

Not in a romantic way, but in a curious way. He never went so long without talking to be because Max could talk anyone's ear off, which had to have meant he was seriously mad at me. But I shouldn't have been labeled as the bad guy, considering that nothing I ever did should've led him to believe we were a couple. I was pretty certain I made that very clear.

Regardless, I needed to patch things up with him in order to clear my conscience. When I saw him at his locker grabbing a few books, I marched up to him and gave him a friendly smile. "Hey Maxxie."

His eyes shot to mine almost immediately. A slight scowl was cast on his face as he began to shove his books into his backpack. "Don't call me that."

I released a heavy sigh and leaned against the locker adjecent to his. "I just wanna apologize, Max. What I said to you ... It was insensitive..."

He stopped shoving his books angrily into his locker and brought his eyebrows together in confusion. "But it was true, wasn't it? I'm just a piece of ass to you. And to think that I thought you actually liked me. I gave you my freaking virginity, Jamie."

He was trying to play the guilt card, and I hated that it was working. "I do like you, Max. Just not... Not like...that. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Max narrowed his gaze slightly. "You stink."

"What?"

"You stink," he repeated in a bitter tone. "You smell like sex. And you're actually trying to apologize to me for screwing other guys after you just screwed another guy?"

I bit down on my bottom lip. "I didn't screw him."

"Oh!" He exclaimed sarcastically, his brows raising and his dark eyes widening. "So, he screwed you? You let him be top? Oh, okay. Who was it? That stupid football player? Because if that's your type, then you should've just told me before I fell for you, giant asshole!"

"I did tell you, Max," Of course I didn't expect him to hear any of it, "countless times."

He swung his backpack over his shoulder and slammed his locker, preparing to saunter off like a diva, but I stopped him before he could. I wrapped him into my arms and held tightly, even though he was trying to squirm out of my grasp. "Let go of me!"

"No," I said firmly, maintaining my strong hold on him. "Not until I know we're okay. I'm sorry for hurting you, but I really would like to remain friends, Maxxie. I really would."

He continued to thrash his arms and legs, groaning loudly when he realized he couldn't escape. "That's bullshit! Everything you say is bullshit! Just a bunch of bull-"

"Bullshit," I finished for him. "Yes, I get it. But maybe we weren't meant to be together. Maybe we're just meant to be friends. Besides, who's gonna scare off those bullies of yours if you don't want me around?"

He appeared to think over it for a second before he began to squirm again. "I can handle myself."