Almost a week later, my summer was halfway over.
As bittersweet as it is, Logan hadn't called me.
On the bright side, my stitches had been removed, and my once throbbing, bleeding gash had slightly scabbed over.
Plus, I had Riley to take my mind off of it. We had gone to the beach, and Pizza Hut and the library. The latter two countless times over the past week. I think he's trying to fatten me up, I've gained 5 pounds since he started buying me pizza all the time.
I was fighting telling him because even though it's hard to lose weight, I'm not gonna lie, pizza is delicious.
We hadn't really talked much about the night. Like as in how the date went, how Logan kissed me, and how Dylan and I got into a fight.
I had cried from the awful pain in my hand and those tear trails camouflaged the ones from my fight with Dylan perfectly.
My mind was battling my conscience, Dylan cared at first, but not enough to perceiver.
But all that was a mystery to Riley. I couldn't bring myself to tell him what had happened because I knew he'd instantly suspect him of hurting me.
When truly, it was me. And trust me, I would have done a lot worse if I wouldn't have accidentally stabbed myself.
Unfortunately this led to one question,
How did I get the gash, why did I get the gash and WHY I didn't call Riley first thing.
The latter the most discussed of the topics.
But after lots of arguments over why I was cramming my hands into boxes at midnight, Riley finally dropped the subject.
Back to the Logan thing, I was taking it a bit harder than I let on.
"Riley, why don't boys call back?"
He groaned,
"Dani, because they're douche bags. How many times do I have to say it?"
I whined,
"As many times as it takes for you to say because they secretly love you and are nervous to call again."
I knew it was lame but it's what I wanted to hear.
It's not my fault I'm a stereotypical girl.
Glancing over at Riley he laid on my bed bouncing a random volleyball off the ceiling then catching it. He caught the ball easily muttering something about love and secrets before he turned his head, making eye contact with me.
"I'm sorry beautiful. It's his loss."
I smiled weakly and he continued,
"And I know that doesn't help at all. But if makes any difference, I'd call you back any day. That boy is plain stupid."
My smile grew slightly but I hid it from Riley's view.
That boy is plain stupid. The sentence replayed in my head, but I'd call you back any day echoed through my brain in his Minnesotan accent and I laughed.
Riley was a typical boy, he had a nice truck and a cute slightly southern, but definitely Minnesotan boy accent.
Cute?
Did I say cute?
"What're you laughing about?"
I spun around slowly in my desk chair and walked over to where Riley was laying. Standing above him I finally answered his question,
YOU ARE READING
On Purpose
Romance"I didn't mean to do it," he cried, releasing another waterfall of tears. His lungs burned from the smoke surrounding him. His face was wiped of emotion but his eyes held tears, fear and regret. There were no words to be said, only silent words to...
