The Bad Boy Thinks I'm Cute

Second Thoughts

I've been updating rapidly because I have nothing else to do. It's my gift to you. Thank you for all of the support on this book! You guys vote and comment and I really appreciate it! Thanks soooo much. *sends virtual thank you cookies* it means a lot.

Parker's POV

What have I done? I'm starting to have second thoughts about telling Aubrey to distance herself from me. I miss sneaking over to her house right around this time. Every night at midnight she would tell me to sneak over to her house and knock on the window. We'd always worry that her nosy neighbors would tell her mom. Should I go over there tonight? Uninvited? Patch things up?

I think I should give it time to heal. Besides, we're still together I just think she needs times away from me. That way when she somehow figures out what I've done, which I'm hoping she doesn't, it won't hurt as bad. You can't take the broken bone out of the cast too early, am I right?

Great, now I'm thinking of my girlfriend as a broken bone. I'm so great. I'd actually define myself right now as a complete deuchebag right now. I saw the hurt in her eyes. It hurts her to stay away from me, but it hurts me more to tell her to do so and on top of that try to avoid her. I'm not even being a boyfriend right now. I'm acting like someone who doesn't want to be her boyfriend.

I love her. I really do. I honestly don't know why I told her that. Actually I do. I just wish I didn't. Now she will be twice as hurt when she finds out. A sudden rush of anger pushes through me and I walk over to my door. My mom has told me hundreds of times to stop taking out my anger on everything, but right now I don't give a shit. I hate what I've done. And it isn't like she or my dad are here to stop me. They're probably out getting drunk at a party, not even thinking about leaving me with the maids.

I let out a frustrated shout and slam my fist against the door, powder and sheetrock from inside the wall floating around everywhere. The broken pieces lay on the floor. I pick one up and throw it as hard as I can against the wall. It leaves a huge brown smear. I don't care about that, either. My parents are rich enough to replace my whole room if I needed them to, and by the time I'm through with everything tonight, they might have to.

I just pushed away the one thing that keeps me calm. The one thing that keeps me level on the ground. I pushed her away without even thinking it through and now I'm stuck with all of the second thoughts.

The aftertaste. The aftertaste of my own recipe. My terrible, terrible recipe.

I can't go over right now. Not when I just messed up things only hours before. That would be moving too fast and it will be a sign of weakness. But my baby knows my weakness. It's her. And going over there would only probe that. Do I want to look weak and go running back to her, begging forgiveness? Or do I stay here and wait it out? I decide to go with the second option. I don't want to push Aubrey around.

I imagine her crying like I saw her doing when I gave her that kiss. It hurts to know she was crying because of me. Because of my wrongdoing. Because I messed up. This is all my fault. If I had never mentioned that I made a mistake she wouldn't be trying to figure it out right now and she wouldn't be trying to get herself back together because of me.

She would be planting sweet kisses on my cheeks, not daring to kiss me on the lips before I kissed her that way first. We would be trying to keep quiet under her blankets even though it's hard as hell not to be loud. But now we aren't. Because I told her to stay away.

I need to fix my mistake, but I'm my going to put her in discomfort by showing my face at her window. So I rely on hiding my face behind a glowing screen, the main problem with our generation as adults put it. They just remember that they are the ones who raised this generation.

First I text.

Me: I'm sorry about earlier. I take it back. I can't have you away from me anymore. Forgive me?

I wait for ten minutes and I know that she has probably read it by now. She always has her phone on when we aren't in school and she always has it with her. Which means she is ignoring my texts. What if I literally messed up everything and she wants to break up with me? The thought brings out more anger and I have to restrain myself from punching the wall. My knuckles already have aching bruises forming on my hand in purple, green, and blue colors.

I decide to call her. Aubrey doesn't answer and I'm left with her voicemail five times in a row:

Voicemail: Hey, it's Aubrey. I'm not available right now, but-Parker, shut up, I'm making a voicemail-call me later. Thanks!

I smile at the part where she was trying to get me to be quiet before speaking after the beep.

"Hey, princess. " I whisper and take a shaky breath. "I'm really sorry. Please forgive me. I love you so much and I really do mean it. I regret what I said earlier, baby, I really do. I miss you already. Just...please call me back soon when you're ready. "

That's all I can get out the last time I try calling. The four times before, after listening to her voicemail, I said a whole bunch of words to try and see if she would pick up and she never did. I swear the only time I will be hearing her voice from now on is when I listen to her voice on the voicemail.

That thought is even worse. But instead of it making me angry, I feel something else. Sorrow. Sadness. I don't know what it is. All I know is it doesn't feel good. My heart feels slow and my stomach doesn't feel right. I can't feel my arms and I feel this restlessness inside of me that I can't do anything about. I feel like this is a dream.

I just know all too well that it isn't.