BULLY-a.i-l.h

Chapter 6-Broken

-aria's POV-

As I'm packing up my things I feel a light tap on my shoulder. Thinking it must be Ashton, I tap him right back. It's not Ashton.

"You shouldn't flirt with your teachers." He says. I raise my eyebrow.

"You're not my teacher, you're just an intern." I say, laughing and turning away from 'dylan'.

"What I was saying is, you shouldn't flirt with your teachers unless you're going to give them your number." He smirks and holds out a piece of paper and a pen.

I see Ashton just a few feet away, glaring holes into the back of mr Ryan's head. I nod and take the paper. There's no way I'm giving this guy my number.

I take the paper and scribble down the number, folding the paper in half and passing it back.

"Use it wisely." I say, grabbing my things and walking away with a wink.

Ashton catches up with me as I hop into my car. He hops in too. Normally he gets a ride with Luke but I guess since we're all going to the same place.

"Why did you give that loser your number? You could have any guy you want. Any guy would be happy to be with you, especially me! I knew that I was trying too hard! I knew that you would end up falling head over heels with some guy with a normal job. I knew that you could never even think of being with me in that way. I knew that I didn't stand a chance! I'm done Aria Hemmings! Done with you and your messed up mind! All I wanted was you!" He shouts, a tear running down his face.

"Ashton wait!" I yell, jumping out of my car and chasing after him. I put my hand on his shoulder and he whips himself around ferociously.

"What? Are you back to rip my heart in two again? Because guess what? You win. You win Aria, you got me and now all I get in return is a broken heart. Thanks for that." He says, tears still running down his face as he continues to storm away. I run after him again.

"Ash!" I call after him.

"Ashton!" I yell louder, then stopping in my place.

"Ashton Fletcher Irwin you are going to come back here and listen to me right now!" I yell, earning a stare from an old woman in the parking lot.

"What the hell do you want from me?" Ashton yells, walking toward me.

"Can't you see I'm already broken?" He says more softly, pulling up his sleeve. There, on his wrist, are just as many cut scars as I have, lined up across his wrist in white lined patterns that only a blind man wouldn't be able to see.

"Ashton." I whisper.