Regret.

Eighteen

   Bella's POV

  "The hell?" I said and got up off of Scott's bed.

  "No! Bell she might hurt you!" Mitch said loudly, causing Wyatt to jump.

  "Mitch, she'll freak out if she breaks a nail. I'm not scared of her." I laughed and opened the door.

  "Hey, Queen Bitch?" I yelled as I walked down the hall way.

  "Right here, Bella." Aria replied and I turned around.

  "So, can I help you?" I folded my arms.

  "No, but Mitch can." She smirked and tried to move me out of the way.

 "He's busy right now, Aria. He's planning on asking you out and he's putting something together. He said he'd call when he's ready." I smiled and gestured for her to leave. 

  "Oh my god! I need to get ready!" She screeched and ran out the door. I slammed it behind her and locked it before running back to Mitch's room in tears of laughter.

  "What the hell..." Mitch said with a confused look.

  "She's so gullible!" I yelled.

  "What did you do?" Scott folded his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows.

  "I told her that....that Mitch was gonna ask her out! And he would call when he was ready!" I giggled. "And she left and said she needed to get ready, but she's gonna get ready for nothing."

  "You're an idiot," Mitch rolled his eyes.

  "No, I'm a fucking genius." I said and messed up his hair. 

  "True," He said and fixed his hair.

  "I'm gonna go get coffee. I need some caffeine." I stated and went to put on a jacket.

  "I wanna come!" Mitch whined.

  "Okay," I giggled. "Wanna come Scott?"

  "I'm gonna take a nap," He said and yawned.

  "Okay, It's just you and me, Mitchell."

    Mitch's POV

    I looked over at Bella who was putting on her jacket, and I felt lucky to be in her presence. She's an amazing person and I don't really know how I lived with out her for so long.

  "You ready?" I asked her, my voice shaky.

  "Yeah," She walked to the door and opened it, and then looked at me.

  "Mitch, are you okay?" She asked with a worried look upon her face.

 I nodded in response and followed her out the door.

  "I'm thirsty!" She exclaimed when she sat down in the drivers seat.

  "I feel you," I replied and she laughed.

  "So, what's wrong." She asked, but more like a statement. 

  "Nothing," I lied.

  "Mitch, you're practically see through when you're lying." She frowned, "I'm worried. Please tell me what's wrong."

  "I'm scared," I confessed.

  "Of?" She asked and looked at me.

  "Of losing you,"