Living With The Bad Boy

59) We're Keeping The Kid

"The park?" I questioned him. He rode the motorcycle behind Drew's elementary school and parked it in the parking lot, helping me get down.

"Yeah, it's one of my thinking spots," he told me, handing me my crutches. We're so different, mine's a cemetery.

"How many do you have?" I couldn't help but ask. There was the roof where I haven't been on since I broke my leg, and many other places where I needed to get my fish brain to remember.

"Just a couple," he reassured with a small smile. He placed his hand on the small of my back and led me to a small playground where there were only a couple of kids and their parents. One of the moms glared at us and I was tempted to stick my tongue down his throat just to see her reaction.

Instead of doing that, I put my crutches to the ground and sat on the seesaw and Sam joined me, sitting on the opposite one. Immediately, I shot up in the air and almost fell off while he shot to the ground, trying not to laugh.

"You good there?" he smirked. "Or do I need to get off."

"Pig," I muttered under my breath, clutching onto the handle for dear life. Oh mon dieu, aidez-moi s'il vous plait.

He simply grinned in response and dropped his face when he realized that I was waiting for a proper explanation. "Okay, so I didn't really talk to you or anybody for two reasons."

"Did you rob a bank?" I bit my lip in anticipation.

"What? No!" he exclaimed. Okay, that's a little suspicious. "Where do you get these things?!" My imagination, that's where.

"Just a thought," I meekly shrugged, realizing how ridiculous I sounded. He won't rob a bank.

"You're something else," he shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. He gently pushed himself up to actually get the seesaw moving and I clutched the handle tighter.

"I can't really tell you the second reason," he nervously said, playing with the handle. Someone's going to fall off or break this thing today.

"Why not?" I asked in a demanding voice. "It can't be that bad."

"I don't want to scare you away," he slowly said. Did he tattoo his whole back or something?

"Sam, you can't scare me," I sighed. "What's your first reason?"

He uncomfortably coughed under my strong gaze and I softened my features a little, mentally scolding myself. "I'm not really over the whole thing with my dad," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

"I wasn't taking any sides that day," I let him know. "There were no reasons to take sides."

"I know I overreacted a little and it was nothing to do with you," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's good," I let him know, shifting around in the hard seat to get uncomfortable. "Can you tell me your second reason?"

"I needed to think," he said after a minute of thinking. I raised an eyebrow, Nana said something like that. "I know it sounds really bad and all that but-"

"Sam it's fine," I interrupted, starting to feel bad now. He didn't need eye bags under his eyes and didn't need to worry about me of all people. "Just don't ignore me next time you need to think."

"Why are you so nice to me?" he asked in a demanding tone, looking a little angry. Most people would be happy to be forgiven that quickly but I guess Sam Ryder is different.

"I'm not nice, I just don't like to have big fights," I scoffed. Me? Nice? Never.

"Exactly, you're nice and I can't be that," he sighed. "I don't even get how you like me."