By Your Side. (Sequel to Art Girl and Wolf Boy)

By Your Side. (21)

Phoebe's POV:

"Phob? Are you okay?"

He sounded worried, and honestly, I would have been too. I hadn't breathed for a few seconds and my heart was thudding in my chest at an unnatural rate.

I didn't think.

I threw myself onto him and before he could do anything, slammed my lips to his.

Fireworks. He made a sound that sounded like a moan and gripped me to him, kissing me back fiercely. A thrill ran through my body and I responded more enthusiastically.

I had the hem of my t-shirt in my hands, ready, when he suddenly pulled back, gasping. It wasn't a pause for breath because he staggered back, his eyes full of horror. We stared at each other for a moment. And then he opened his mouth and said five words that shattered my entire being:

"I can't, Phoebe. I'm sorry."

He turned and ran off into the woods. I briefly saw a flash of black as his clothes shredded before I sank to the ground and began to sob.

~*~

I woke up in my bed. My eyes hurt from crying and the curtains were drawn, which I was thankful for. I turned in my position to see my dad, looking at me.

My father was a strong man. But my mother was his kryptonite. She was his planet, and he was the moon that revolved around her.

When she died, he had to stay strong for me. One morning, when I was ten, I came home from school early to see him staring at a lassoed rope. I had frozen in place and tried to back out slowly, but I tripped over the coffee table.

His eyes had snapped to me, wide and blue. He took a step toward me. "Phoebe..."

He had nothing to say, and neither did I. But I did hear him whisper, "I'll never leave you."

We never spoke of the incident again.

Now, though, I could understand him. I could understand why he contenplated hanging himself on that fine May afternoon.

It hurts so much. I feel like someone's just come along and decided to spit on my, just because. Like I've just donated my heart to someone when I need it, and they don't want it.

"Are you okay?" My dad asked the dumbest question on earth.

I just stared at him. He got up slowly, walking to the door. "I'll just leave now."

"Thanks," I croaked. My dad wasn't the type to talk about feelings and stuff. He spoke shortly and you felt even worse after he started talking than you did before.

He stopped by the door, though, and looked at me.

"I don't know exactly what happened. Max brought you here and you looked like hell, sweetheart. But I will say this: that boy would walk through flames for you."

He left.  

For three days I slouched around the house like a zombie. Viv came over a few times, armed with ice cream and sad movies, but I didn't feel any better.

'"I can't, Phoebe. I'm sorry."'

What did that even mean? Can't what?

I decided to find out.

I got up from my bed, gritting my teeth and marching to the bathroom to at least brush them. You can't be taken seriously when you have bad breath.

Pulling on a jacket over my baggy shirt and cargo pants, I stomped downstairs. My father was at work. I grabbed my keys from the bowl by the door and went out into the rain. I unlocked the doors to my Camaro and shut the door, cracking it up. It purred beautifully, flickering to life.

I cut the drive from his house to mine down to two minutes, getting out and slamming the door. The full moon was high in the sky, big and bright despite the rain.

I walked into the house and up the stairs, bursting into his room. He was already by the door, waiting.

I met his eyes with a glare.

"We need to talk."

~*~

Thiis would be longer but my sister just came in and demanded the computer! Sorry! Song's not relevant, I just love it :S As heard on I Am Number Four lol vote and comment! The next chapter is emotional so yeah! Not edited!