Newt has always admired Thomas from afar, and it's a shock to everyone that Thomas hasn't noticed, but with Newt's bad-boy persona, who can blame him?
A romantic story filled with hurt, hate, and a dash of love.
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Thomas' POV:
I curl myself up in bed, wrapped in an abundance of blankets, listening to the soft ticking of the clock on my wall. The cool air from the breeze coming in from my window is putting me at ease, a feeling I haven't felt recently during these past few days.
It's been a rough week to say the least. Alex is still too afraid to talk to me because of what happened when he last visited. Newt has been avoiding me, which I should be thankful for, but it's just making me feel awfully lonely.
The only person who's really been communicating with me besides my family is Teresa, but even she is starting to act strange due to some unknown reason.
I want to talk to her properly; I want her to open up and tell me the truth if something is wrong, but even I know that won't happen. She's the sort of girl who will keep things bottled up, until it becomes unbearable and she let's it all out in one go.
I wish she wouldn't do that. It worries me, and besides, I'm her best friend. She shouldn't have to hide things from me, especially if they're making her feel like shit, or stressing her out.
But I also want to talk to Newt. We need to discuss what happened, and I desperately want to put some closure on us. I said some awful things, and I just want him to know I don't in any way hate him, and I understand it was just a spur of the moment decision; that it meant nothing.
But, even to me, that kiss, it meant something. The way I felt when we were kissing, even just for that split second, was incredible. It was like I had fireworks exploding in my chest, and it made me feel tingly, all the way to my toes.
And it's wrong that I feel this way, especially since I have a boyfriend, but I can't deny it or pretend that I didn't feel anything when his lips met mine.
I rest my head back on my pillow, shutting my eyes, the serenity I once felt now completely diminished.
I'm being really hypocritical, thinking it's bad of Teresa to keep things bottled up, because that's exactly what I'm doing right now.
I pull out my phone and send Teresa a quick message, asking her to meet me at our favourite café. Things between her and I have been rocky the past few days, and I'm clueless as to why, so I need to hear from her what's been happening.
She soon sends me a message, agreeing to meet me in half an hour. I thank her, before hopping out of bed, rummaging through my wardrobe to find something clean and comfortable.
I settle on a pair of black ripped jeans, a neutral striped oversized sweater, and docs. I slip on my glasses, before grabbing my phone and wallet, and walking out the door.
