Rejected By My Bestfriend, Accepted By The Badboy

Chapter Twelve

"Cynthia! I'm going out!" I bellowed as I made my way  to the door. 

Since she was the only one at home, I simply wanted to let her know that I was leaving. 

It was a thing we do. 

Before I reached the front door, I watched as she poked her head from the hallway that led to the kitchen with a glint in her eyes. "Is it that Fabian guy again?" she asked as she wriggled her eyebrows. 

"No. I'm actually going to hang out with Colton. And stay out of my life." I threw her a glare, but she only smirked wider at me as she rushed towards the front door.

I threw it open, and I saw that Colton was already waiting in my driveway. 

"Hey Colton!" 

"Hi Cynthia!" he returned cheerfully as my sister greeted him. 

"You're being replaced, but I still love you." She winked devilishly as I threw a punch to her arm.

I could see that Colton's eyes were frowning, despite the fact that he was still beaming at Cynthia's joke. 

I pushed my fifteen year old sister through the door, hoping she'd stay inside as I quickly made my way towards Colton's car. He met me halfway and grabbed me in a hug, and I actually almost purred like a damn cat when I felt the familiar warmth of his hug.

However, something was a bit different with this hug. The way he gripped my waist and buried his nose in my neck was almost...primal. 

"I missed you, Par," he mumbled as he pulled away a bit. 

I sighed in content, realizing that a meet up was simply far overdue. "I missed you too. Shall we go?" 

"Yes, of course." He held the door open for me as I hopped in, feeling safe in the comfort of a car, instead of being teased about riding a certain dark haired boy's bike. 

Still, the very thought of Fabian had my heart fluttering, but I quickly composed myself as Colton joined me on the driver's side. 

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, but I could see that he had something to say. He was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, a habit of his when he was nervous or had something bottled up. 

"So, how's Anastasia?" I asked, knowing it was the perfect indicator to begin the conversation I knew he wanted to start. 

I didn't miss the few times he glanced at my neck, no doubt remembering the mark he saw on the video call that was neatly hidden under my scarf today. 

"Uh- she's fine. She wanted to hang out with us soon. She hasn't seen you since...that night." He said 'that night' with a huge drop in his tone, as if he was in deep thought about the night we went roller skating, when I expressed my love for him after falsely hurting myself, and having him dismiss my declaration like it was nothing.