Bad Timing

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Later that night, I was still thinking about Officer Carter. I was just itching to search him up online. I wanted to see what dirt came up on him, or at least that's what I tried to convince myself.

But before I could, I had to sit through the lame ass dinner with my dad. Today he kept asking me stupid questions like "How was school?","Do you and Ryan have any classes together?", "How are your teachers? I hope you do better than last year Skylar." On it went for an agonizing hour.

Sitting in my room, I finally had the chance to start my search. I didn't know his first name, so I typed in "Officer Carter Los Angeles police." I guess there weren't that many Officer Carters in LA because the first hit took me to the LA police website, displaying all the police divisions and officer profiles.

I skimmed through the categories until I found one that read "Middle and High Schools." Clicking it took me to a page where it gave a description of the police's jobs in schools. "Members of the Los Angeles Police Department are stationed in public schools throughout the city. Their job is to monitor schools for any signs of drug use, weaponry, or violence. LAPD hopes that this will provide students and staff with a safe work environment."

I snort while reading this. The LAPD program has been going on at my school for three years, and they still don't do shit. They either suck at their job, or turn a blind eye towards whatever happens in high school. Most of us assume it's the latter. I personally think they're too stupid to realize what's going on, because Lord knows how many times I haven't been caught.

I find a link to a page that has a list of all the high schools in LA. I scroll to the "Bs" and find my school, Brookfield High School.

Aha! Found it! I see a list of all the police officers involved in this years program. I scan through the list, looking for Officer Carter's name. Bingo. "Officer Troy Carter." Troy, huh? That's a hot name, I can't help thinking.

I click his name, where I'm taken to his police profile. On the page there's a picture of him, taken from what I assume was in the police academy. I zoom in the on the picture, and I suck in my breath. Good God, he really is beautiful. I finally take the time to scrutinize his face in detail.

Bronze skin. Chiseled jaw. Light brown eyes, peppered with flecks of green. And that gorgeous golden-brown hair that's a little longer now than in the picture. Damn. I'm almost salivating. And then I realize I'm practically stalking the guy.

I zoom out of the picture and focus on the other details. A brief biography states that Troy just graduated from the academy and his first position is in the high school program. Ha, so he's a newbie.

I scroll down. His birthday is January 22nd, 1993. That makes him twenty one. Three years older, not too bad. Wait, what am I thinking? Why does his age even matter? I remind myself that I'm just trying to get some intel on him, so it'll make it easier for me to get away with all the shit I do every year.

I keep reading, discovering that he was born and raised in LA, and he's an only child like me. I'm surprised that he went to McNeil high school though. That school isn't exactly what you'd call great. Actually, it's not even decent. It's one of the most dangerous schools in LA, with the highest number of shootings and robberies. I love trouble but hey, I don't have a death wish; I'd never go there.

Satisfied with my stalking session, I quickly commit all the new information to memory as I delete my history. He can probably trace my search history; he is a cop afterall. Not that he'd have a reason to. I hope.

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Later that night, as I'm painting my nails a cheery shade of black, my phone rings. I glance at the caller ID. Adam "my baby" Webber calling. Ugh. I really need to change that. His grinning face pops up along with his name. And I definitely need to delete that picture.

Shit. My heart still annoyingly races when I see his name on my phone. I curse again under my breath. I'm pissed at myself for still being affected by that fucking douchebag.

I'm debating whether or not to answer when the ringing abruptly stops. Phewf, I think. Dodged a bullet there. But then the ringing picks right back up after only a second.

I sigh out loud, knowing I have no choice but to answer, because he won't stop. He never does.

"Hello?" I pretend not to know who it is.

"Skylar, hey it's me." Adam's voice breaks a little. I'm a little surprised at the amount of anguish I hear in his voice.

I'm also a little wary. "Oh um hi Adam. Do you need something?" I figure it's better to just be straight up.

"I just want to say how sorry I am Skylar. I'm so sorry baby. You know I'd never hurt you. I was just mad that's all. Please baby, you have to forgive me, I was just mad at myself for the stupid shit I did to lose you. I'm so fucking stupid Sky. I need you." He's a little breathless, and I can't help but feel a surge of warmth in the pit of my stomach.

Stupid right? I know I'm supposed to be mad at him, hate his fucking guts even, but I just can't bring myself to. I guess I'm really in love with him. I mean why else would I want to forgive him so easily?

But I won't let him know I caved so easily. I force my heart to harden as I bite back my next words. "Well I'd be a pathetic little whore if I took you back now wouldn't I? Isn't that what you call your mom because she went back to her cheating boyfriend?" Adam intakes a sharp breathe as the sting of what I said hits him.

He always refers to his mom as a "pathetic whore" because she kept getting back with Rick, some grimy ass bum who seduced other women right in front of her. His mom dumped the asshole a while later, but I know he's still bitter about it.

I'm waiting for Adam's remorse to turn into anger, like it usually does. I'm waiting for the cuss words aimed at me. But they never come. I hear his rapid breathing on the other end of the line before he finally hangs up.

I keep the phone pressed against my ear as the tears stream down my face. I know Adam's the one in the wrong, that he's the one who cheated on me. So how come I feel like the fucking bad guy?