The Bad Boy's Secret

~Chapter thirty one~

💋~💜~👭
All that I am
or ever hope to be,
I owe to my angel Mother.

-Unknown
👭~💜~💋

As it turns out, being grounded does amazing things for ones academic life, although socially, it's as damaging as leaving chocolate out in the sun. Having been kept captive for three nights in a row, I'm now caught up on all my school assignments but feel just about ready to smash my head against a text book if I have to endure one more night in with nothing but my four walls to keep me company.

Call me dramatic, but it's true!

"Amelia, are you busy?" Jack's hesitant voice spills in from out in the hall, each word as unsure as the last.

"Nope, come in." I reply, repositioning myself so that I can face him by my door.

His hazel eyes meet mine in an apologetic exchange and I momentarily feel bad for having been such a disappointment. Since Thursday's little mishap, we've yet to address the issue of my nightmares and although clearly an inevitable conversation, I still resent having to endure it. The truth is, while I admit to not coping, I'd rather cover other topics such as my inability to bond with my Father on a normal level. It's been playing on my mind for quite some time now and happens to be the only thing in my life that I have the power to change.

"How are you feeling? You're not too bored up here, are you?" he asks, finally breaching the threshold and taking a step towards me.

I offer him a small smile in response, finding his concern really rather amusing if nothing else.

"I think that's the purpose of being grounded. It is a punishment after all." I laugh, tidying away some study notes as a way of offering him a seat on my bed.

"Thanks." he states, having taken my hint and positioning himself next to me, awkwardly so.

I take this opportunity to analyse his features, right down to the slight dusting of freckles he holds across his nose and the crease line permanently etched into his forehead which, strangely enough, makes him appear younger. His hair has long past the stage of needing a trim and I can only imagine the events of the last few months has aided in that.

"I want to talk to you about perhaps speaking to a professional," he quietly soothes, shooting me an encouraging smile afterwards. "A friend at work has recommended someone but I don't want to pressure you into something you're not comfortable with. This is your decision." he finalises, uncertainty passing through his eyes.

His suggestion, I must say, takes me a little by surprise and although I'll admit to not thinking about seeking professional help previously, it is rather tempting.

"Can I take some time to think about it first? I'd like to try talking to you if that's okay?" I admit, noticing the slight smile on his face at my doing so.

"You-yeah sure. Now?" he questions, instantly straightening up his posture when I nod my head in response.

"If you've got a moment?" I joke, both needing and wanting to add some humour to the somewhat strained situation.

He cracks a small smile and repositions himself and a more comfortable angle, probably sensing the time in which this may well take. 

I don't blame him, we could be here all night, after all.

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