Pretty Boy

You could tell it in the way he walked. Those cocky strides and perfectly placed steps. The way he would stand with his feet pointed outward while talking. Leaning his head against his locker and daring you to fall into your own trap. Smirking as he saw you get stuck in your own syrupy love sick voice. It was easy to tell he was a player. His goal being to seduce you and destroy. Yet still everyone fell down on there knees as he stood in front of them. Begging for the bliss he supposedly gave for the quick week he stayed with them.
It was no secret that Jack Mcloughlin was made a player but the catch is Mark Fishbach was made one too.

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