BLACKMAILED.

Chapter 7: Don't Ask Me What's Wrong When You're The Problem.

He kisses me again, and I start to laugh. We pull away and I bite my lip.

"So, how was your Tyler Hollande experience so far?" He asks, smiling.

"Umm, what?" I roll my eyes.

"You heard me."

"Anyways, We should probably get going, um, I have to get my beauty sleep." I look at him, a serious expression on my face. I cannot hurt this boy.

"C'mon, just open up. What's bothering you?" He asks, a sympathetic look on his stupidly beautiful face.

I snap. I don't know what came over me. "What's bothering me?! How about you! Blackmailing me instead of just formally asking me out! How do I know this is really what you want! What if I hurt you?! What if I go and cheat on someone again!" I scream at him, hot tears running down my red face.

Then I realize what I said.

I told him that I cheated on someone.

Big mistake.

Or so I thought.

I drop to the ground on my knees and bury my face in my hands. Years and years of holding in my tears, they all pour out like a river has been inside of me this whole time.

He picks me up bridal style and I cry into his shirt.

He puts me in the front passenger seat and I sniffle, and drift off to sleep.

***

My eyes flutter open and I am in someone's bed, blankets over me and I'm still in yesterday's clothes.

It's Tyler's room?

I look over and see him snoring on the couch in his gigantic room, is he rich?

I stride over to his dresser and take out one of his T-shirts and go into the bathroom.

I hop into the shower, and scrub my brown hair with shampoo, wash myself with some of his axe body wash, and then get out, wrapping myself in a white towel.

My soaking wet hair drips all over the floor and I dry myself off. I get a brush out of my purse and brush out my hair.

Drying myself off, I slip on his t-shirt, since yesterday's clothes are pretty dirty. Hope he isn't mad.

I walk out and see him sitting on the bed on his phone.

"Good morning sunshine."