The Original Wattpad international sensation.
The story is simple.
Depressed boy meets crazy, possibly legally insane, girl at therapy and their whirlwind adventure begins.
Korin and Micha had only one thing in common: they had each discovered the...
Deze afbeelding leeft onze inhoudsrichtlijnen niet na. Verwijder de afbeelding of upload een andere om verder te gaan met publiceren.
Asinine-
Anger management when you're already in therapy
Restraining orders
Bright lights at the end of the tunnel
Twizzlers: they don't make mouths happy
My mouth, hands, and head were killing me. The ice pack against my split lip wasn't helping at all, my mouth was still bleeding, and I was spitting out more blood than one would think possible from a simple split lip. I might have broken a bone in my hand as well...
Hardheaded bitch.
Where I look as if I fell riding a bike—a couple of cuts and abrasions—Paris looked as if she went ten rounds with Tyson. Lucky for her, John pulled me off before I could bite her ear off.
"How's your mouth?" John asked, slightly amused now that the fight was over.
I shrugged. "I've had worse, I'm sure. Didn't think Barbie over there was that fast. Oh well, live and learn, right?"
"You broke my nose you bitch!" Paris shrieked from the chair across from us in the waiting room in front of Erik's office. "Why in the hell did you attack me?"
Korin laughed. "You can't be serious," he scoffed.
Before she could say anything, Erik's office door opened and Paris' father and Erik walked out.
"I am so very sorry, Miss Deaton," Paris' father said to me before he turned his attention to his daughter. "What in the hell were you thinking? This is not how I raised you, young lady."
"But-" Paris stammered.
"But nothing!" he snapped at her. "You dressed up as her dead mother just to torment her? There is seriously something wrong with you, something that I'm sure public school will be able to help you with. Get your ass in the car."
Whoa, that was unexpected.
"Micha," Erik said, motioning towards his office, closing the door behind us.
Once I was comfortable in one of the chairs across from his desk, he took the chair next to me.
"Are you okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned.
"Mouth hurts, hand hurts, head hurts... S.S.D.D.."
His brow furrowed. "S.S.D.D.?" he reluctantly asked.
I smirked. "Same Shit Different Day."
"Of course," he groaned. "First, I'm very disappointed in you. Fighting, really? I understand where it was coming from, but you antagonized her."
"She threw the first punch, so it was self-defense," I pointed out.
Erik glared at me. "Yes, I know. Your mind is always calculating, which is admirable and yet frustrating. You made sure Paris hit you first so they couldn't press charges, and now the Academy lost one of its best neoclassical principles, and John lost his partner for the semester."
