Not Quite Sure Yet

Chapter 33

Dear Joey,

Duke is annoying me. Not all the time, God no. Just at this moment in time. You see, I'm still tutoring him, technically. But recently, our sessions have consisted of anything but studying. However, Dukes grades started to drop, so I decided it was time to actually teach him something again.

This does not please Duke. In fact, at the moment, he is sat in front of me, whining. Well, whining in between sums, but still whining. I was trying to write this English assessment we had been set, one I was actually looking forward to writing, but I couldn't concentrate. So, I decided to write this to you, so Duke doesn't think I've stopped working.

I felt something hit my head, and watched a ball of paper fall into my lap. I looked up, glaring at the grinning blonde across from me.

"What?" I asked, lobbing the paper ball back at his head.

Duke chuckled. "I know you're not doing homework." He whined, pushing his math book away from him.

"Oh really?" I teased.

"Yes." 

"You smart little boy." I cooed, and Duke blushed a shade of crimson I didn't even think was possible. 

"Shut up!" He whined, throwing another paper ball at my head. I chuckled and threw it back.

"You should know by now," I said, trying to hide my laughter "that I really don't mind balls hitting my head."  

I watched in amusement as Duke threw his hand over his mouth and spluttered out laughter, face turning flushed with embarrassment. I chuckled and watched the beautiful boy catch his breath, mortified at my honesty. 

"Cole!" He said, regaining his breath. "You can't say shit like that!" Silly boy. Of course I could.

"Of course I can." I replied cheerfully. "Or would you rather I said I'm used to sucking-" 

"Shut up!" He whined, throwing his shoe at me. I dodged it easily, laughing at the football captains shit throw. 

After a few minutes of muted laughter, Duke turned to me with a slightly nervous expression on his face. I frowned, worried about what would be making him nervous. He shouldn't be nervous around me, ever. I didn't want him to feel anything bad any more. 

"What is it, Goldie?" I asked, the nickname slipping past my lips without me really noticing. Duke shot me a small smile. 

"I want to ask you something." He mumbled, "And I don't want you to get mad at me."

I sighed, relieved. "I wont be angry at you, babe." I promised, meaning it. I really don't think I could've been mad at him in that moment. 

"You write those letters, right? To Joey?" He asked quietly, timidly. I nodded and gestured for him to carry on. I'll be honest, I was surprised at the change in conversation. 

"Why? Like why did you start writing them?" Duke finished, looking at his lap. Sighing, I lent over and lifted his chin up, making him meet my gaze. 

"Babe." I said. "I'm not mad, I promise." I took a deep breath. "I started writing the letters as a favour to my Dad. I mean, I was never opposed to doing it, but I only really started to avoid therapy."

Duke gasped. "Why did he think you needed therapy?" He asked, shocked. I chuckled and patted his hand. 

"Because I didn't break down. Because I was the same way I was before I met h- Joey." I forced out your name. "Because my Father worries. I wouldn't take therapy, see. But Dad insisted I needed to do something to help my 'grieve healthily', so I agreed to writing the letters." I finished, realizing how pathetic the whole thing sounded. I was writing letters to my dead ex-boyfriend because my father made me. Ridiculous. 

"Did they help? Do they help?" Duke coreected himself, searching my face for signs of distress. 

"They did help, for a while." I chuckled, stroking his hand with my own. "But for me, they were never there to replace therapy. I wanted someone to know my story, and that person happened to be Joey. But now, I've found something that works even better." I grinned, looking directly into his eyes. Duke flushed a light pink, happiness etched into his features, and smiled cheekily at me.

"Oh really?" He teased, tapping his chin with his finger. "Who's that then?"

I placed a hand over my heart, glad we had moved on from the previous morbid topic. "Yeah, there's this really hot football player I'm fucking. Its all sex and no conversation." I joked back, watching him again turn red at the mention of sex. How cute.

"Its so fucking not!" He yelled, before throwing his hand over his mouth quickly. I chuckled at his worry. Even if Mom had heard, she wouldn't care. She swore more than me, and I've got a fucking potty mouth. She had learnt long ago to not try and correct my manners. It just didn't fucking work.

"Isn't it? Oh buggar." I teased. " I was just in it for the sex." Duke growled. Feeling a little guilty, I put my arms around his waist, and his head fell onto my shoulder.

"I'm joking." I whispered. "Obviously."

"I know that!" He protested. "I'm not that sensitive." I was about to respond sarcastically when I felt a vibration against my leg and watched Duke's pocket light up. Separating from the embrace, he dug around in his pocket before pulling it out, frowning at the screen. I waited patiently as his eyes ran over the screen three, four times, before he finally spoke.

"Well, shit me." He muttered, passing me the phone. I looked down just as he explained a little more. "Its from Nicole."

I looked down at the three words on the screen with a head full of questions.

You deserved it.

What the fuck had the little bitch gone and done now?  

“There's nothing like deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons.” 

Cole

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I'm sorry, this is a quite fluffy. I'm having a bit of writers block with this story.

Note to self: Only write one story at a time.