I lie awake, sitting atop the pile of blankets on my bed. I can't sleep, and I don't know why. Who am I kidding? I know why I can't sleep. I just don't want to accept it.
The ceiling paint is chipping, and spider webs hang from the ceiling light, connecting to the tall walls. My head hurts. I'm not used to being friends with Patrick . It doesn't feel right, but I know it's real. Either way, I am friends with Patrick Hastings once again.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy With The Motorcycle
RomanceThe nausea passes, and I take another step towards the house. I am caught off guard by a zooming noise, and my ears start ringing. I look behind me, to investigate the sound. A motorcycle speeds down the dirt path of the forest. Dirt erupts behind h...
