Living With The Bad Boy

Chapter 17 || Don't Throw Off My Groove

▲ Chapter 17 || Don't Throw Off My Groove ▲

I shoot up from my bed with a scream; my heart pounding, my breath wavering and my skin covered in a coat of sweat.

Sophie.

My mind races back to middle school and I hold my hands to my throbbing temples. I suck in a sharp breath before exhaling in an attempt to calm myself. It was an exercise in futility.

It was my fault. Everything was my fault. Everything is always my fault.

Suddenly, my bedroom door swings open, revealing a frantic Blake with a baseball bat gripped in one hand.

"I hope you didn't come in here to club me to death," I sniffle jokingly.

When Blake catches sight of me, he lets out a breath of relief, "What the fuck happened?" he hisses, "I was getting a fucking drink and then suddenly I hear you screaming bloody murder." His eyes dart to the open door and he holds his breath as he stares into the dark hall. He turns back to me after a long moment, "At least you didn't wake up my parents," he mutters, "What happened?"

"Where on earth did you get the baseball bat from?" I ask in confusion.

"Don't avoid the topic. Tell me."

I shake my head, too scared because I knew if I did I'd probably start crying.

"Bronte..." he grits out in a threatening tone as he steps towards me.

"Nothing..." I croak, "I just... I had a nightmare." I reply truthfully. Well it's half the truth, at least.

My eyes widen when Blake does the unexpected and takes a seat next to me on my bed, "You're crying," he tells me. I shake my head, patting the back of my hands over my cheeks. Sure enough, they were soaked with tears.

"No, I'm Bronte," I joke weakly before sniffling. He doesn't laugh and I roll my eyes, "I know, it was a bad joke."

"Yes, it was," he responds simply. Gee, real confidence booster. "You're crying right now and then you're trying to crack a joke like nothing even happened. Don't beat around the bush and just tell me what's going on."

"Why should I tell you?"

His mouth opens as he tries to answer my question, "W-well... Not me... But at least don't bottle your feelings. You'll go insane, trust me," he mutters, and I can tell that there's history behind his words by the tone in his voice.

Blake was certainly right, but there is no way I am going to tell him about what has been haunting me since middle school, "You're right, but I don't want to talk about it. I just want to..." I sigh and fall back in my bed, "I just want to forget about it."

More than that, I want it to never have happened. I miss her.

"I have an idea," he tells me, pushing off my bed. "Follow me," he commands, "But you have to be quiet or you'll wake up my parents." I furrow my eyebrows at him and open my mouth to reply, but he is already gone, disappearing into the darkness of the hall.

I shut my mouth and stare at the open door for a long moment. I didn't know what to do or whether I could even trust him after everything he's done. I was still angry at him, definitely, but I know I wouldn't get to sleep anytime soon and right now I didn't really care about anything besides recovering from my dreams. I was still shaken up.

I eventually climb out of bed and walk into the hall, where he is already standing.  "So what's the pl-?"

"Shh.." he hushes, placing a finger on his mouth, "Mom and dad are here and we can't wake them up."