Untypical

Cain's day has been typical.

If he's being honest, the boredom that usually fogs his mind hasn't left yet, still lingering and numbing his nerves. After his last win on the road, he finds it difficult not to think of anything else as mundane.

He fidgets with the silver rings decorating his fingers, needy for something that can keep his interest, craving thrill, maybe the only emotion left he can actually feel.

He and his friends take their usual spot in the cafeteria, the entire school's attention dead set on their flashy figures. The troublemaker usually relishes in the curious and thirsty gazes of his audience, but today, he can't seem to keep half of his attention on anything.

A girl, ginger and hilariously forgettable, flushes as he stares right through her.

Her mind is filled with questions as her face starts to match the shade of her hair, wondering if she had done something new with her look to catch the eye of the most attractive guy in school.

Cain withholds the urge to roll his eyes—really, he just needs to stare at, well, nothing in particular.

The heartthrob needs to keep his mind awake is what, the absolute lack of anything happening tempting him to fall asleep on his food then and there. He doesn't even remember what he ordered, whatever it is, maybe it'd make a good cushion.

His friends remain entirely unaware of his struggle.

Careless as always, he thinks to himself, good for them.

They tease and laugh without a worry in the world, knowing that they could get away with anything they wanted if they willed it. Those are just the type of people Cain finds himself being around. The kind to reek of cigarettes and sex.

Mix that with an excessive amount of money and you've got yourself the perfect concoction for a group of adrenaline-loving teenage assholes, saved only by nepotism.

Not like he's any different. Without his luxurious cologne, deceptively sweet, deceptively charming, many would find that he's just as bad as his crowd, maybe even worse.

They resume being their usual selves, banter strangers would mistaken for genuine resentment indiscriminately tossed from boy to girl. It makes Cain chuckle for a moment, a pleasant and attractive sound, but it's not good enough to call a remedy for his boredom.

"Slut" isn't an uncommon nickname between them in the group, same goes for "manwhore" and "dickbag." In fact, it's become a term of endearment somewhat. That's about the only thing that enters his thinking process though.

He doesn't bother to tune in enough to understand entire sentences, the more Jacob and Lindsay talk about their next party, the harder he finds it to pay mind to anything at all.

He's floating in the clouds, eyes wandering from one corner of pretentiously large cafeteria to another. His gaze is unfocused, listless, up until a blonde little thing walks into the cafeteria.

Her peach cardigan awkwardly drapes over her long skirt, concealing what Cain could only assume was an irresistible pair of legs. Her entire ensemble is awkwardly mismatched, her feet resting inside plain doll shoes, cute as her button nose and hazel eyes. Her blonde hair's put down but generally, a mess—she looks a mess, the perfect kind of mess Cain would love to wrap and unravel for Christmas night.

Cain doesn't know her name, and he finds that incredibly tragic.

"Finally, a good source of entertainment." The heartbreaker's magnetic gaze narrows on a nameless girl, her laughter unrestrained as she jokes with another side character in a table full of side characters.

Almost instantly, all his friends' eyes are on her too, like a pack of obedient dogs ready to carry out their master's commands.

They're aggressive to him for the sake of laughs, sure, but at the end of the day, Cain is the one who stands at the absolute top of the food chain. And whatever it is that he decides to do, they're destined to be involved.

Just to make sure they stay relevant. A little fucked up, but it's just politics to Cain. Can't really avoid it.

The infamous prince of Rutherford stands from his seat and the cafeteria is high on anticipation. What scheme is the prized heattbreaker about to pull now? Who is he walking towards? Is it anyone noteworthy?

Cain can practically hear the questions buzzing in everybody's heads as he makes his way towards his next.... Well... What can he really call it?

"Oh shit, target spotted!" Jacob, a rather dim-witted but well-meaning jock exclaims from his seat as he watches his leader walk towards a group of girls, no one there significant or noteworthy. At least not until that very moment.

Target leaves his mouth much too easily, much too casually, because truth be told, that's just what everything is to Cain—an easy, casual game.

"Mind if I sit here?"

All eyes are on him, just like he predicted. All except a certain blonde's. A challenge, exactly what he wanted.

The girl sitting next to the mystery blonde nods wordlessly, budging to make room for the troublemaker.

It feels like the entire vicinity is watching them. And it's funny how there's some truth to that statement.

Cain's smile is like the devil's, dashing in ways that feel forbidden. His entire existence is questionable—his face is much too pretty to fit in with their reality, his voice much too smooth not to be a siren's trap.

When Cain approaches girls, that's exactly what he feels like, a siren about to lure poor fishermen captive.

Hazel eyes snap up at his face, he can see the unfiltered shock reflecting in them clear as day. For a moment, the blonde girl's uptight facade falters, a pink tinge growing on her face as their gazes meet. Something about her open lips and disarray sends an ego rush down Cain's spine.

She grimaces at him after. The hint of attraction on her face gone in a split second, as if it was never there.

The blonde reminds him of hissing cat residing outside their estate. Cain fondly recalls how it only took a few weeks, food, and affection for the feline to turn docile.

Everyone is deprived of something. And Cain's intent on satisfying the blonde's cravings.

So, the heartthrob persists. He already knew about her reputation in the first part, was already aware of her particular hatred towards the entirety of the male species.

He finds the challenge exhilarating.

"Hey, there. I don't think we've ever formally met." His grin is reminiscent of the sneaky cheshire cat's, about to mislead his silly little Alice.

Angela feels her heartbeat from her palms, realizes that the canteen is much too loud for her liking. The heartthrob now seated at their table is undeniably beautiful, unbelievably so, but she delivers a strong resolve because of his promiscuous reputation.

"I'd like to keep it that way. Thanks." She replies, a roll of her eyes conveying her distate. Her friends look outraged, but are too stunned to express it.

It's not everyday that the talk of the entire school sits on your table. But Angela would much rather not be another tool in Cain's holster.

"Oh? But that'd be unfortunate, I don't think I've ever met a girl as pretty as you." The flattery almost seems sincere. Almost.

Despite her resistance, Angela finds it difficult not to shiver under his attention. The smoothness of his voice is immaculate and she has to consciously ignore the content of his words to stop herself from being flustered further.

She comes up with the best response she can with her fogged brain. "You use that line for every girl you want to hook up with?"

He chuckles at her resistance. Her remark isn't quite false. In fact, it hits much too close to home, something Cain finds utterly amusing.

"Only for the ones that take my breath away," He smiles, the irresistible one everyone falls for. Angela finds that her knees have become much too weak from such a simple expression.

"Can I at least get a name? I can't keep calling you pretty girl in my head."

She only hums at his attempt. And for a moment, Cain thinks he's finally met an impossible case. That is, until a mumbled, "Angela," leaves her pink lips.

"Fitting." He replies, leaning into his elbow as he watches her pathetic attempt at finishing her meal.

"You've ever tried street racing, angel?"

The nickname almost makes her choke. "It's Angela. And no."

"Understandable." He finally stands up. Angela's relief—shoulders slumping and glare resting—is almost offensive to the girls surrounding her, knowing they'd have melted into his arms if it were them who were approached.

But Cain doesn't truly leave, and something about that is relieving to almost everyone in their table somewhat.

"Well, if you'd like to experience it for the first time, I'd be happy to be your guide. Just meet me here tonight, 9pm."

A piece of paper is pushed towards the defensive girl, the shift in Angela's expression giving away her true feelings, her intrigue. She looks at the piece of paper and transfers her gaze to his. She's transfixed for a moment. And Cain considers it a small victory.

"I'll think about it."

"Oh, shit! Underground racing? That's cool! Can I come with?" One of Angela's friends chimes, Peony, with eyes full of wonder. Her enthusiasm fizzles like an accidental burn in the tense exchange.

"Uhh," Cain's stunned out of his words for a moment, the intruder's smile endearingly wide. Still, she remains to be an obstacle in his newest challenge. It irks Cain a bit. The only thing he's heard about the brown-eyed girl is that she's sheltered, pitifully so, never allowed to attend parties, never allowed to drink or even be in a vicinity with cigarettes.

Cain would hate to babysit during a date, but Angela seems to relax after her little interruption. So he takes it, already scheming ways to get keep him and Angela away from the girl throughout the night.

"Sure."

"Ah, that's great!" She bumps his fist and for the second time that day, he's left a bit speechless.

Before he can be weirded out even further, he walks back to where his friends are sitting.

"What can you tell me about miss sheltered transferee over there?"

Bianca, his childhood friend with multiple pink highlights hanging on her hair, halts her chewing to give him an exasperated look. She looks tired of his bullshit. The usual. "Don't tell me you've given up on the blonde already."

A look of annoyance gives way on Cain's face in response. Of course not. Not until he gets her into his bed anyway. "I'm not switching targets. Just that she's probably gonna be a nuisance on my date with Angela."

"Hey, don't talk about P that way! We're paired up in Chemistry. She's actually really cool." Bianca retorts, surprising everyone in the table by actually having a good opinion on someone. Jacob in particular chokes on his oversized sandwich.

"Blah! No way she can be that cool, heard her dad was crazy overprotective. They might be into some extreme religious bullshit like sacrificing tiny animals or something. " The dumb jock quips, his opinion unwanted by Bianca, evident from her nasty scowl, but intriguing Cain nonetheless.

Lindsay's interest is piqued, her ocean blue eyes transfixed on the interaction, and soon, she butts in too. "Doesn't sound too far off. Heard she was from the suburbs. White picket fence folks always give me the creeps."

"Peony isn't like that." Bianca opposes the brunette with venom in her voice, causing Lindsay to pout.

"You never speak well of anyone, babe. I'm starting to get jealous." The fun-loving brunette pouts, her arms soon draping over her girlfriend's shoulders.

Cain looks away, strangely irked by the public display of affection. Love, ugh. Commitment, an even bigger yuck.

"Whatever. Hugh, you can deal with her, right? Just for the night."

Hugh, the pride of their school's swim team, tan and lean and almost every girl's dream, second only to pretty boy Cain and quite literally Cain's righthand man. It'd be impossible not to distract miss sheltered Peony with Hugh's rugged looks, the prime example of the freedom she's probably never dreamt of tasting. The plan's flawless.

"I swear to god, I don't get paid enough for this." Hugh responds, his irritation only aiding Cain's mischief-filled grin in growing wider.

"You don't get paid at all, but you do shit anyway because you love me."

"Whatever, it's just for one night anyway."

Cain's attention flies from Hugh to Angela's table one more time, the sound of her laughter admittedly pleasant.

"Yeah." The heartbreaker mumbles, his head racing. "Just one night."