Should I? -Nick Robinson

One, two, three

Nick pov
That little bitch. She thinks she could just do that to me? I mean me, Nick Robinson? Who the fuck does she think she is? I fucking gave her a compliment and I get chocolate poured all over me. My hair smells like chocolate. Everywhere. I. Go. I decide to leave. Not just the rink, but my vacation. As soon as I get home, I first take a shower in hopes to get out the sweet smell (which doesn't work) and then book a flight back to California.
Isabella pov
I rush to the bathroom, open the handicapped stall and throw myself on the floor. I sit against the wall and start crying. Tears shoot out of my eyes like bullets, each one dropping on my chest, aiming for my heart. It hurts, doesn't it? My shoulders shudder like when I was cold, with Nick. Figures. Did he make me cold, or did he shield me from it? I'm now crying uncontrollably. My face is contorted with pain and anger and my chest is hurting. I can't breathe. I flip over with my back facing upward and I'm on my hands and knees. I'm hyperventilating. You thought you had a chance. I cry harder. Compose yourself. I cry harder and harder. You have three more seconds until you have to stop. A last tear drops on the floor, one, two, three. And then I stop. I stand up, unlock the door and walk out of the restroom.
Nick pov
On my flight, I have second thoughts for once in my life. I think I hurt her feelings. Naw shit, that's why she walked away from you, asshole. Crap. I feel bad. No, I feel really bad. She thinks I called her a slut. You basically did call her a slut. I shut my eyes and give myself a reality check. You didn't do anything wrong. You are going back to California and you're gonna make your relationship with Taylor work and everything will be fine. It'll all work out." I know I'm lying to myself.
Isabella pov
As i ignite my car, i realized what I've done. I just poured a cup of hot chocolate (it was actually cold but still) on a guy that expressed interest in me. He's a doucccchhheeee. Yeah, but he wanted to talk to me. He made an effort. A bad one at that, but still.
I feel something in my gut. It's not anger -that was left in the bathroom. It's not pain- that was also left in the bathroom. It's becoming recognizable as it sinks to the bottom of my stomach. It feels like a rock and I know it all too well. It's guilt.. Aww shit, I feel bad. He's self-obsessed. No, he's good. There's some part of him that's good, I'm sure of it. I know there is some good in you, Nick. You just don't know it yet yourself.