Bad Intentions ↠ h.s.

Chapter Twelve

Almost immediately, I returned downstairs, fists clenched and jaw wobbly. Arabella was standing in front of the fridge, her usually bright eyes dull and lifeless... and a bit wet. Was she crying? Because of me? I made her cry?

"H-hey," I say weakly. She didn't look at me. "Um, baby girl? I'm sorry for freaking out on you. I-I-"

"It's fine," she replied quietly and quickly, grabbing the jug of milk out from the side of the door. "Do you want some cereal?"

I swallow. "Um, sure, Bel."

She reaches for some bowls, as I watch her bra strap slide down her arms, while she hurries to try to fix it.

"Here," she responds quickly, sliding the bowl with milk and chocolate cereal in it towards me gently, biting her lip.

I awkwardly reach out and grab it, forcing a smile. "Thanks," I say softly, my hands shaking. Act casual. This is Arabella... Yeah, the Arabella I drunkenly made out with last night

"Bell, can we talk? About, you know, what happened? You know, so you can fill me in on all the blanks?"

Did I grope you or finger bang you like my thoughts said I did?

Arabella nodded quickly without looking at me. Before I could say anything further, she was walking out of the kitchen with a bowl similar to mine in her hands. I retrieved a spoon and followed her hastily.

"Did you sleep well?" I ask softly. She nods. Is that all she has for a way of communication? "Are we actually going to talk or are you going to continue to just nod?"

She shrugs, leaving me not only irritated, but confused. She's a teen girl that has wild hormones. The way she copes with feelings is reacting differently. I want to put myself in her shoes, but I can't. It hurts to even think, let alone put myself in her current thought process.

I shut the tv off as she sits down, totally ignoring my bowl that I left on the coffee table, as she does the same.

"Can you tell me what happened? Everything?" I say with a sigh, lifting my legs up to sit straightly. "Please?"

"Yeah," she finally says after what seems like forever of her constant silent. "You were drinking, got drunk, and went to bed."

I bite my lip, glancing at her tugging on the loose thread of the couch.

"Daddy?" I say aloud, as her attention meets mine and her eyes grow wide. "Doesn't that sound familiar?"

"Do you really know what happened or are you just noticing the ones I brought up?" She comments, a small amount of annoyance bringing towards her. It's obvious that I'd have to get this the hard way. "And plus, it didn't mean anything."

Okay, that kind of stung. It didn't mean anything to her? I grit my teeth, "It meant something to me."

Arabella glances at me, shocked. "How?"

"I-I kind of liked it," I stammer. Suddenly I was nervous around her, and I have no clue as to why. She created something different of me. "It was nice."

"Me calling you that...or what happened?"

"Both," I say with a curt shrug.

"Why?" Arabella looked worried, almost. Her pretty eyes were sparkling like a thousand perfect diamonds. I could stare at them all day. "Do you... do you like me?"

I went stiff. Do I like her? I mean, I adore Arabella- she's cute and funny and just so refreshing every possibly way. She has made me feel a way I haven't in so long... since Ashley and I first got together, probably. She made me feel young... And like I was worth something. Maybe I do like Arabella. Is that even possible?