The Rebellion of Cora Hart

*Cora's POV*

"Can I stay at your place tonight?" I blurted out suddenly, making Jett choke on the cigarette he was currently devouring, sending him into a coughin frenzy. I slapped his back as I waited for his reply, and he glared at me, his grey eyes piercing through my skull like a bullet. He spat out his sloppy cigarette, stepped on it quickly and we continued walking away from the shopping district. We had just bought me clothes that would put my mum to shame. Not in the slutty, 'fuck-me-now' kind of way, but the eccentric and unladylike way. Pretty much my new wardrobe consists of mainly skinny jeans in an array of colours, T-shirts with crude slogans, piercings that would make anyone look twice (in disgust or awe, of course) and shoes that, well, were fucking awesome. How did we pay for it all, you may be wondering?

"Steal his wallet," Jett told me, pointing to a middle-aged man with a disastrous receding hairline. I stared at him incredulously, then started shaking my head as if there was no tomorrow. Well, there might not be since I have gotten into truck loads of illegal shit today. So firstly it was knocking out drug dealers, and now we're onto pickpocketing? Well, do you have money to pay for your clothes?"

"Um, no, but I was kind of hoping you'd be willing to pay your wonderful girlfriend," I said sweetly, clasping my hands together and batting my lashes as I inflated his already bulging ego. "Come on, I saw you pull out a tonne of cash when you paid Liam."

"Babe, that was money I stole off Liam when he was distracted," Jett smirked, and I let out a furious growl. "I already paid for your hair and shit, but for clothes you are on your own. Oh, and your target is getting away. Try to get his money when he's in the crowd. Now, that's enough help from me!" Jett nudged me forward and I was swallowed up by the mad crowd trying to get onto the bus. I gave Jett the finger as I made my way through the crowd, keeping an eye on the balding man in front of me. Okay. I better just do this quickly.

I casually walked forward and slipped my hand into his pocket, grabbing onto the bulging leather casing of his packed wallet. I then nudged him, and he looked down, but I had already popped his money into my bag. "Sorry Sir," I said sweetly, "It's a little crowded here!" He nodded gruffly, and boarded the bus. I eased my way out of the crowed and went around the long way back to Jett, who gave me an 'so, get the cash or what?' look. I reached into my bag and waved the wad of money around in my hand, and he nodded in approval.

So, that was pretty much how we managed to get the large amount of money to pay for my shopping spree. Jett really didn't give a fuck, I mean, it's not like it was his money in the first place, and I was the one that risked my clean-record to get that cash.

"So how about it, Jett? Can I crash at your place tonight?" I pressed again, hefting the weight of the endless bags draped across my arms.

"Fuck no. Just because we're doing this fake dating shit, doesn't mean you can just live with me. Who the fuck do you think you are?" he said coldly, and I frowned, pouting. Jett glanced over at me, and rolled his eyes. "Your ugly face isn't getting any more attractive if you do a face like that."

"So, is that a yes then?" I asked, and Jett hit me on the head. "Ow. That was totally uncalled for, shit head."

"You're not staying at my place. Go home and terrorize your hard-ass witch or whatever. You're an eye sore." Jett quickened his face, and I couldn't help but feel a little hurt. I thought we were on good terms, considering he was smiling a little. Sure, I should have expected this outcome though; it's Jett Miller I'm hanging out with. He just doesn't associate himself with people, let alone with Little Miss Goody-Goddies like me. Well, what I used to be, anyway. he just doesn't do people, especially girls. Sure, he's had those 3 ex-girlfriends before, but they never ended up completely okay. And seriously, he really doesn't give a fuck about them, and I'll probably be one of them in the near future... well, hopefully I won't. Dying or being locked up doesn't really appeal to me that much.

"Jett!" I called out, pushing past the crowd. Jett doesn't respond, but I notice that he quickens his pace. "Goddamnit! Come back here you little cock-sucker..." I lunge forward, grabbing onto his arm with such force I loose balance. The fact that I'm unbalanced, Jett swearing as he tries to pry me off him, and the people bumping into us doesn't help us as we topple to the ground, smack bang in the middle of the sidewalk.

"What the fuck!" Jett yelled, grabbing onto my waist as he flipped us over, him now on top and me on the bottom. "You could have really gotten hurt! Don't you see that these people are too fucking caught up in whatever shit they're doing to notice you on the ground? For fuck's sake!" Jett ranted, and I just lay there on the ground, frozen as his chest brushes across mine with every breath he takes. I swallowed hard, and peer up at him. He looked down at me, anger evident on his face, and I blush, turning my head to the side. I couldn't help but notice that despite his cold and heartless (and absolutely frightening) appearance, if you looked close enough he was actually quite attractive, in a bad boy 'I'm-gonna-kick-you-ass' kind of way.

His hair swept across his eyes, the dark, vibrant colour contrasting with the light hue of his eyes. He had long lashes-long for a guy- but something about that made his eyes seem really quite beautiful. His nose was angular and slightly crooked in the centre, and had clearly been broken sometime during his life. He had a strong jaw, and his lips were pursed in a annoyed frown, and I gently touched the corner of his mouth with my finger tips. He flinched, shocked at the sudden contact, and pulled back, helping me up.

"Sorry," I muttered. There was an awkward silence between us, and despite the hustling and bustling noise around us all I could hear was his husky breathing. We were standing pretyt close to each other due to the circumstances of being surrounded by masses of rushing people. "U-um, if you really don't want me to stay then I'm cool to go home. I'll video my my mum's reaction when I walk in for you, since you wanted to see it..."

There was another moment of silence, and then Jett let out a loud groan and ran his fingers through his hair. "You're fucking anooying, you know that? Fine, whatever, you can stop doing those shitty puppy-eyes and crash at my place. But just to let you know, it's nothing amazing, just a cheap apartmentin the bad side of town," Jett said, and grinned when he saw my shocked expression. "Don't tell me you don't want to come now, because then I'd get really pissed, and you know that nothing good comes out of that." I flipped him off, and stormed off in whatever direction he was walking in, and then I heard his familiar chuckle from behind before his large, warm hand enveloped mine.

"Has anyone told you that you're bi-polar?" I huffed, ignoring the way his hand made me feel giddy and high.

"Has anyone told you that your sense of direction is crap?" I retorted, and a long list of bad cuss words and insults soon followed, all the way back to his apartment.

Which was actually pretty cool, if you were into mix-and-match kind of styling. It was small, with a mere 3 rooms. It had a tiled bathroom, equipped with a bath-shower, toilet and sink. There was only one bedroom, with a double bed pushed into the corner, and a ripped arm chair on the opposite side. There was a small slit window above a worn desk, covered with random bits and pieces as well as an ancient looking box computer. The loungeroom was connected to the kitchen/dining table, and had an old brown sofa in front of the only new looking thing in the whole apartment; a flat screen TV. The kitchen was the usual, with a stove/oven, a sink, a small fridge and a stone bench. The dining table was a small circular table with 2 rickety old wooden chairs neatly pushed underneath. The walls were a dull shade of yellow, custard coloured perhaps, and the whole apartment was cute and strangely homely.

"It's nice," I told him, and he scoffed, rolling his eyes unbelievingly.

"Just shut the fuck up and go have a shower. You stink," Jett told me, but his lips quirked up into a small smile anyway. "I'll get dinner ready." I raised my brow in surprise. Jett Miller can cook?! He snorted and waved away my stupid presumptions. "That means ordering pizza."

"Oh, of course. I guess I overestimated your greatness then?" I teased, and he threatened to stab me with a blunt dinner knife. "Okay, okay! I'm having a shower!"

I gave him the finger again (something I'd found myself doing quite frequently) and rummaged through some of my new clothes for the pair of $10 thin striped PJ shorts and the black camisole. I grabbed a towel from a drawer from the dresser in the bedroom, and ducked into the bathroom.

Jett Miller may not be so bad.

And this is when the Cora Hart started living with Jett Miller.