The Good Girl's Bad Boys [Book One of TGGBB Series] (Completed, Editing)

Chapter Fifty: I-I Can't Take This Anymore!

“Do you think you did well on the Ms. Kennedy’s test? We had a lot of catching up to since we had to move to her class so late in the first semester.”

“Yeah,” he agreed then smiled at me, “It’s a good thing I had a great tutor.”

I shrugged. “I had trouble myself,” I admitted. “It was hard enough learning all of this stuff. But I had to understand it well enough to teach it to you.”

“Well you’re a miracle worker.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Hey wait, I need to go grab a textbook in my locker. I need to some last minute studying for this text for my next class.”

I frowned. “You know it’s bad to do last minute studying, and you must’ve known there would’ve been a test ahead of time, right?”

“I did, I swear,” Parker told me. “I’ve been studying, and I was planning to review everything over the weekend but…” He trailed off.

He didn’t need to explain any further.

“I’ll help you study,” I offered.

He shook his head. “No, I want to do this myself. I think I can do it.”

I smiled at him. “Don’t think, know.”

“Okay then, I know I can do it,” he said before adding, “with a little luck of course.”

We finally reached his locker.

“Luck doesn’t help with everything,” I told him, leaning against the locker next to his. I knew that from experience.

“Maybe I need Lorraine luck,” he replied back as he opened his locker.

“Oh, that again.”

He laughed and pulled out his chemistry textbook out of his locker. But he used his left arm when he grabbed the book, and he underestimated its weight because his arm dropped far to his side as if yanked from below. The textbook dropped onto the ground with a loud thud as his hand went up to his shoulder.

“Dammit, dammit,” he kept saying, gritting his teeth.

Parker didn’t want to wear a sling, no matter how many times I told him he should. I guess he didn’t want to show the guys who did that to him by wearing the sling and give them the pride that they were the ones who put him in it. That’s what I felt like every time I got a new bruise I wanted to hide in my sweaters or under make-up. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing this “trophy” of theirs. But he finally gave in when I lend him a shoulder brace I borrowed from the nurse’s office.

“Why did I use that arm?” He hissed at himself.

“You probably weren’t used to it and thought you could handle it,” I told him, reaching my hand out to him to touch his shoulder. But he suddenly jerked away from me.

“No,” he said, straightening up. “I’m alright.”

“No you’re not,” I argued back. “You’re not alright.”

“My arm-“

“I’m not talking about the arm,” I said. “I’m talking about you.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“For the past few days you haven’t been acting like yourself, you’re being all distant ever since the… incident.”

Parker scoffed. “Incident? That’s what you call it? An incident?”