"The best way to not get your heart broken, is pretending you don't have one."
― Charlie Sheen

chapter 1

For a long time now, Bar Red decided that he just fucking hates people.

It was an easy decision really, one that Bar didn't find hard to hang onto, and it turned into menacing glares and constant wicked smirks that reminded everyone just how bad the delinquent could truly be.

For example, when he walked into the Montgomery High School's office, the secretary gave him a fearful and disgusted look.

This resulted in Bar just scoffing and plopping into the uncomfortable waiting room's chair, kicking his feet onto the table, and raising his arm to give the cubby lady the bird in such a blatant manner that showed how little he actually cared.

"Um," A soft, squeaky voice laughed out nervously. God, that laugh is attractive, Bar instantly thought. "Why are y-you flipping me off?"

Bar popped one eye open, and did a double-take at the girl in front of me, his crooked smirk almost falling off.

The girl's hair is an almost black shade of brown but it was a good color on her, it being slightly wavy too. Her face has a puppy dog look to it, a look that screams kindness, even if she seemed nervous.

But that's not what Bar noticed first.

He noticed the smooth, but obvious, white jagged scar that went straight from the middle of her chin and slanted to the side before going up and cross her nose, traveling over her left eyelid and brow before disappearing under her hairline. He blinked again and noticed that it went down her throat too.

It was a scar, one that Bar was insanely curious about, but it wasn't unsightly or ugly.

Bar knew a thing or two about scars and hers was beautiful— she went through something painful and survived.

He just hoped it wasn't too painful.

But he knows scars of violence don't just leave an imprint on the body but one on the mind too.

Besides, it didn't disturb her face's shape in any way other than distorting her skin color slightly.

Bar's eyes moved to her nose that was slightly too small on her face but in a cute way, and it was a little crooked, meaning it was broken at some point. The top of it was bright red in embarrassment and the rush of blood easily showed on her pale looking skin.

Her cheeks were covered in dark freckles that were covering the spaces underneath her eyes, over the bridge of her nose, and a couple on her forehead too. Bar even noticed one below her soft, pink, and kissable looking lips.

Fuck.

He wanted to kiss those lips.

The girl was fucking gorgeous.

If she was a girl— Bar wasn't sure.

To him, she looked like a goddamn Goddess.

Bar glanced up from her lips, his smirk growing bigger at her hazel eyes. They were clear, like mint but not quite, a darker but soft brown mixed flawlessly into the orbs giving her iris' a glowing effect.

His eyes trailed lower from hers, not caring that she knew that Bar was checking her out. His logic was, well, she's attractive, so why the fuck shouldn't she know that he thought so?

Her voluminous body was well built, Bar could barely help himself from trying to memorize her curves with his eyes.

She was a little plump for her pixie stature but it only made Bar want her more. He didn't like the tooth-pick like girls at his school, they always seemed to be bags of bones but her— she was tangible.

And he would willingly bet that every single curve of her body would feel soft and wonderful beneath his fingers.

She wasn't the tallest at 5'3" but Bar wasn't one to judge on height being the giant that he grew up to be. He briefly wondered if she'd even come up to the middle of his chest if it wasn't for the heeled combat boots that she wore.

To kiss her, he'd have to bend down quite far or pick her up if they were to be standing.

She was slouching, which Bar figured meant that she must be an inch or two taller than she actually seemed. By the way she so easily sunk in on herself, he can tell she's doing it on purpose, trying not to take too much space.

It doesn't help, her presence was too loud to ignore.

It kind of pissed Bar off, how quickly she seems to capture all of his fucking attention like some kind of temptress even if she practically radiated innocence.

The dark-looking loose long sleeve shirt, that was tucked into her white skirt that had what looked like to be black dinosaurs printed on it, hid her figure well while also giving her a nerdy look.

A cute as fuck, nerdy look.

She was a whole damn snack— one Bar would happily eat.

She could easily have everyone crawling at her damn feet and Bar was almost positive she didn't know that by the way she tried to hide behind her hair, which was a damn shame because no one that looked like that should be self-conscious about appearances.

No one should be self-conscious at all, Bar thought, everyone was built differently and generally beautiful. It's their personalities that are ugly but damn... this girl is a whole other kind of gorgeous.

If whatever the hell she wants to be once she gets out of this hell hole called high school doesn't work out she could be a model.

Or a Greek Goddess.

Whatever suits her best, Bar decided.

Remembering that she asked why he was pointing his rather large, rude middle finger at her, Bar grumbled out a scoff in his deep voice that seemed to bounce off the walls.

He wouldn't raise a hand to her, ever, even if it was just to flip her off.

"Not you, sweetheart." Bar lowered his hand with a forced eye roll. "I was telling the lady over there to go fuck herself."

Blunt words spilled from his mouth and tried to cover up all the protective urges and feelings that were abruptly trying to be swallowed down Bar's throat and he could only hope it worked.

Pity, if it didn't, but oh the fuck well either way, Bar decided. She'd be his eventually.

The Goddess' or girl's eyes widened at the swear word that fell so easily out of his mouth, seeming to be surprised, as if she never heard vulgarity before.

It, honestly, wouldn't surprise him if she didn't.

Just looking into those pure, caring eyes of hers made any harsh words feel like acid on his tongue; if he was religious he'd be sure that being unkind to her would be classified as a sin.

Hell, Bar wasn't even religious and he still thought it was a sin.

She blinked slightly and the oddest feeling of familiarity slammed into his chest. He knew those eyes.

But where from?

How did he know her?

Did he know her or was Bar just going fucking insane?

He was in this hell hole of a town from birth to seventh grade but moved back at the start of junior year— and in that short two year span his reputation was molded into what it is now.

A man beyond redemption, that's what everyone says.

And Bar, well, he believes them.

"Mrs. Rose? The secre-secretary?" She sputters as she sat down in the small couch across from him, making his confused thoughts hide away. "Can't that get y-you in trouble?"

She knows the secretary's name.

Cute.

"What the hell do you think I'm in here for?" Bar released a deep, dark chuckle. "Obviously, because I got into trouble."

Just hearing the word 'trouble' seemed to make the Goddess uneasy.

She seems so pure, the thought almost made Bar groaned as he imagined all the ways he could taint her.

All the ways he wanted to taint her.

"Oh, um," Her freckled cheeks turn red which makes her seem ten times cuter due to how obvious it is on her rather pale and freckled skin. "I-I didn't really t-think about it?"

"Hm..." Bar leans forward, not in complete control of his reactions, his chair hitting the ground as his feet slide off the table. "Do I look like trouble?"

The cocky tone in his voice didn't go unnoticed and he could practically hear the gulp as it slid down her throat.

She's obviously alarmed by him getting closer and it almost made Bar laugh.

It was fun making her nervous, she seemed so naive to the cruel ways of life.

Bar wished he had the option to be ignorant of reality again.

"No," She squeaks out, like, literally squeaks out. She's so cute yet so fucking hot at the same time.

How is that possible?

Bar decided that it wasn't fair to the rest of the slightly ugly or mildly attractive people.

They couldn't stand a chance next to her.

Damn, Bar tilted his head to the side as he stared at the Goddess looking girl, everyone must look like a fucking troll next to her. Then, he squinted his eyes. She's definitely familiar but how?

It's not like girls like her were seen around, or really friends with, guys like Bar.

The destructive, vulgar, beastly kind of men— Bar's kind.

"I don't believe you." Bar leaned back after that thought, the smirk on his face widening as he watches her squirm under his stare.

The girl was obviously not used to being the center of attention from anyone, which Bar didn't get.

Seeing her face, how can people not stare?

And she doesn't exactly seem scared of Bar, either, it's more like she's intimidated by him, Bar noted.

But not the kind of intimidated that the rest of those judgmental fucks are.

Not the kind where she'll move away from him or start whispering things behind his back just because Bar stomps around in stained boots, leather jackets, and has a bunch of tattoos.

Not like the fucks in this town, anyway.

She seems intimidated like she doesn't quite know how to hell the handle him. It was a relief and something that Bar was surprised to be happy about— that she wasn't scared of him.

"So what are you in here for, sweetheart? Stab someone?" Bar tilts his head at her, the smirk falling into a grin so wide that Bar could feel his dimple pop out when the girl starts to choke on air as soon as she heard the question over whether or not she stabbed someone.

Oh, no. Bar nearly groaned. Not even ten minutes with the girl and here he was grinning at her.

He doesn't grin, he doesn't smile. He just gets pissed off.

But here she was, and it felt like every goddamn thing was about to change.

"No, n-no!" She shakes her head and pulls the sleeves of her shirt down to cover her hands in a nervous tick. "I didn't stab someone... is that why y-you're in here?" She shyly looks into Bar's dark brown, almost black eyes before glancing away as a bark of laughter escapes him.

His tone was mocking, "No, sweetie. I didn't stab someone. If I did, I wouldn't have been caught."

Well, at least he was honest.

"Okay," She nods cutely, her dark hair falling in front of her eyes and Bar really want to play with it. "And, and m-my name isn't sweetie."

Fucking hell, how is she this adorable?

"I know it isn't, sweetheart. Mind telling me what it is?" Bar raises an eyebrow at her, hoping her name will trigger the memory and have an answer to the question of familiarity. Her beautiful minty eyes dart between his and the table in front of them anxiously.

"Uh, sorry." Her hand, still covered by the sleeve, rubs against her jaw. "My name i-is Clementine."

Clementine? She's named after a fruit? Bar's smirk grows back onto his face and he can't stop the chuckles that leave his mouth even if a tight coil of frustration popped against his chest. That gave him no extra knowledge. Makes sense, she's as sweet and as mouth-watering as her namesake. Oranges are nature's candies, after all.

She seems like an angel, too.

And here she is, sitting with him, the towns beast.

"Nice name, is it like the small oranges?" Bar asked already knowing the answer and kicked his feet up onto the table again, she follows the move with her eyes. His curly, brown, and fluffy hair falls in front of his forehead at the action. "Why'd you apologize?"

"Because I-I forgot about introducing myself to you when we first m-met, which is, is rude." She explains before shyly adding, "And y-yes... like the oranges."

Fucking adorable.

"Interesting and I didn't tell you my name, and you don't see me giving out a damn apology." Bar teasingly narrows his eyes at her and Clementine gulps. "Do you want one?"

"Want what?" She nervously replies.

"An apology."

Clementine shyly shakes her head. "No, thank you." Always so polite. "But I-I would like your name."

"If you don't expect an apology from someone who did the same thing as you, don't give one. And if you want my name so much, I'll trade it for your number." Is Bar's blunt reply.

He couldn't help himself. How could he?

She's just too fucking attractive and he'll be damned if he doesn't get to kiss those lips at least once in his measly life. So yes, he was going to try making her his.

He wants her. It's no big deal.

Or, it wouldn't be if it wasn't for the fact that before this, no one has managed to get his attention.

But Clementine doesn't seem like the girl who'd hang out around Bar, not that that would stop him, though.

She's a nice girl; a good person.

The only thing Bar thinks he's good at is being a damn asshole and a big brother.

Two very different things.

"What?" She sputters, turning red again. "Why?"

"Obviously to communicate. Don't you know what phones are used for? Texting and all that shit." His smirk and all the swear words seems to be messing with Clementine.

Fuck, she seems so innocent.

Bar doesn't know why but it just makes him want to corrupt her, to show her how being bad can feel so good. To, as he wanted before, taint her.

Bar definitely wants to show her how to sin using his hands, lips, and tongue.

He wants her to enjoy herself using his body.

"Talk?" Clementine was frozen in her seat, all but her leg that seemed to be bouncing up and down like it had somewhere to be.

She's undeniably nervous, it made Bar chuckle.

"Yeah," Bar gruffs out. "The thing me and you are doing right now, even though I could be doing a lot of other things with my mouth. Things with my mouth on you."

Her face goes a darker shade of red at the innuendo making his smirk grow wider.

"I, uh, I," Clementine stutters. "N-no?"

She wets her lips with her tongue and Bar's instinct to kiss her grows. He hasn't stopped wanted to kiss her since he saw her.

Bar thinks he probably won't ever want to not kiss her.

He's definitely intrigued by Clementine and physically attracted to her.

If Bar had his way, she'd be in his bed all night but sadly, everyone can't all get what they want.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." Bar winks wickedly. "I won't ask you out just yet but I do want to hang around you a bit more. You're interesting."

"Interesting?" She rubs the back of her neck.

"Yeah, interesting. Do you need me to repeat that again or are you good?" He teases again.

Her eyes widen for the third time. "I'm, I'm good."

Her reactions are just so much fun.

Especially her blush, which Bar really liked seeing and knowing in some weird way it was him who caused it.

"Hmm... Alright."

"Your name?" She sounds uncertain and Bar wanted to roll his eyes. It seems like she's avoiding what's making her nervous— his flirtations.

But wanting to talk to her wasn't exactly flirtatious, as he genuinely wanted to get to know her.

"Your number." Bar replied with a completely confident tone.

He wasn't going to push her to do anything she didn't want to do, he had more respect for her than that, but just because he wasn't going to be that kind of asshole, doesn't mean he wasn't going to tease her a little.

Besides, that was only a little reminder of what he wanted: her.

"Oh, uh... Okay." Clementine squeaks this out and bites her lip shyly. Bar blink over at her, not expecting her to agree so easily before a smirk tugs as his lips. "Never mind if, if y-you're going to look so smug."

Bar's smirk dulled but didn't fade out as he raised a hand in surrender, "Smugness has been put aside."

Even when she was brave enough to get feisty with her words, she still became a stuttering, blushing mess.

Fucking adorable, if you asked Bar.

After passing over his phone, Clementine quickly put her number in it and handed it back. Noticing that she put her actual name in her contact information, Bar quickly switched it to 'Little Goddess' and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

Now that she satisfied him, he would have to satisfy her. It was only fair.

Though, he had other ways he wanted to make her more than content.

"My name is Bar." He said, smirk morphing into a grin at the surprised look in her eyes and slightly crinkled nose. Then the surprise passed as a strange look overtook her face.

For a second, he thought she might've recognize him from somewhere but brushed that feeling off.

It was probably something else.

He wondered if she has heard the rumors about him. Rumors about the beast boy; the freak— the delinquent who couldn't clean his hands off of dirt and blood.

If she heard about his reputation, or remembered him from somewhere, she didn't show it in her response.

"Bar?" She questioned while her sleeves got pulled even further over her nervous fingers. "Like a-a place people get, um, drunk?"

Clementine said drunk as if it were a slur and Bar could barely resist the tug of his lips that wanted to form into a real smile.

"Yes, the place where people can get absolutely fucking wasted." Amusement was clear in Bar's tone and he almost missed the way the young Goddess' fists clenches by her thighs.

Thick thighs he wanted to spread apart, thighs he wanted to be between, thighs he imagined running his hands up and down until he got far enough that he could feel the heat of her—

No, Bar shook his head, he needed to stop thinking like that or he won't be able to control himself.

And he knew that, with her, losing control was out of the question.

"Is that y-your full name?" Her tone was one of curiosity but also suspicion.

Bar cocked his head to the side, his grin mellowing out into something softer. Softer but bewildered.

Not many people could say hello to him without being intimidated or scared, usually both filling them to the core, but here she was, a little 5'3" minx, being bold enough to ask him that.

"No." He shook his head, deciding to be honest. "It's not."

Clementine leaned forward in excitement and intrigue bright in her eyes. It struck Bar then, that she was actually curious about the large male before her.

Maybe he did stand a chance after all.

"What is it?" She asked, expectations in her tone.

He groaned, low and deep. "I'm not telling you that even if your pretty little ass begs me to."

Bar absolutely loathed his name. He has hated it as long as he could possibly remember.

Fucking Bartholomew.

What a pitiful, ugly name.

His mother named him, and loved him, he knows that. A small, sparking part of him will always resent her— when every other part of him is nothing but a loving son— for naming him that.

Clementine pouted and the look tore at Bar's heart. He almost took the words back. He really did but then he