Chapter 10

When I get home, I go up to my room and throw my bookbag into a corner, then go into my bathroom and start the shower. I feel better after I’ve washed the sweat from P.E. off of me. I wrap a towel around my body and go into my room and to my closet. I get out a pair of black shorts and a red t-shirt that clings to my body. I glance at the clock and see I have an hour left before Colton gets here. I hear the front door shut and keys being thrown on a table.

“Natalie, I’m home!”

I sigh and start to go downstairs and meet her at the kitchen counter. My dark brown hair is still damp and hanging down my back, but I did refresh my makeup to look a little presentable and put together.

“I’m having a few people over for dinner to discuss some business-” she starts, but I cut her off.

“What? No, mom. Not tonight. Please, not tonight,” I beg.

“It’s not an option, Natalie. I have to. What’s the problem?” she asks, frowning at me.

“Colton’s coming over,” I murmur almost imperceptibly.

She stiffens as she focuses her eyes on me. “Why? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s not an option,” I say, repeating what she had just told me. “We have to work on a project.”

She sighs and rubs her temples. “Well, as much as I hate to say this, you’ll have to work on it in your room.”

“You used to not mind that,” I note.

“I used to not mind him,” she quickly retorts.

“Yeah,” I say, studying the countertop and tracing it with my fingertip.

Her phone starts ringing and she looks at the screen. “I have to take this,” she tells me apologetically. She starts to answer her phone and walk off but stops and turns back to me. “Natalie, just be careful when he gets here,” she tells me, concern covering every inch of her face.

She walks out of the kitchen and I hear her start talking on the phone. I sigh and go up to my room. I look at my clock and see I only have thirty minutes left before my impending doom becomes reality. My heart starts pounding a little faster. I get the sheet out and start looking over it. First situation: pick a house. Second situation: pick a car. Third situation: will be provided for you tomorrow.

I look further down the sheet. Journal: Keep a journal every day and write about your experience and how everything is going. The journal will NOT be shared with your spouse. Be completely honest in your journal entries so that we can get the best conclusions possible. I hear footsteps behind me and turn around expecting my mom. It’s Colton and he’s just hovering in the doorway.

“Your mom let me in. Gotta admit, it was pretty awkward,” he tells me, his lips in a tight line.

“No doubt,” I answer emotionlessly.

He looks down at the floor and rubs the back of his neck. He then looks and frowns at my dresser with all of the pictures face down. My heart drops when I see him noticing them. He goes and picks up a random one. It’s the picture of us where his arm is on my shoulders and mine are around his waist. We both have huge smiles and bright eyes. The crack that runs ironically between us catches the light.

“I’m guessing it didn’t fall,” he says quietly while sitting it back down gently, standing it back upright.

“It didn’t,” I say, focusing on our happy smiles. It feels like it was so long ago. “I threw it,” I add, feeling the need to let him know, maybe get a reaction out of him.

He nods, his mouth forming an even thinner line. He continues looking around the room like he’s trying to convince himself he’s in the same room that he used to know as well as his own.

“Lots of black now,” he states, glancing at my eyes.

“I thought it would be fitting due to the circumstances. What color do you think represents abandonment, heartbreak, and the feeling of being lost?” I ask him coldly, tapping my chin with a finger while scrunching my forehead and looking up at the ceiling as if in thought. So much for getting through this project pretending nothing ever happened. Thank you, Natalie, for having a bitchy attitude and mouth. It really helps you out a lot in life, doesn’t it?

He clears his throat and closes his eyes. He shakes his head and meets my eyes again. “Natalie-”

“We should get started,” I interrupt him. “I was just looking over the paper. It’s not much. It shouldn’t take long at all. We probably could have actually finished it at lunch had we paid more attention to it.”

He sighs and nods. He pulls his paper out of his back pocket and looks at it.

“You brought the list of cars, right?” I ask him.

He nods and hands it to me. I look over them and point at the one that looks like the best choice. He nods in agreement and circles it.

“So, now all we have left is the journal, right?” he asks me, his voice wound tight.

I nod. “I think so. Unless there is something else that I’m not reading, understanding, or seeing. But, from what I read, we don’t need each other for the journal entry.”

He stands there for an awkward minute without saying anything. I watch him, curiosity feeling like it was going to bubble and burst out of me, along with sheer terror and pain. He sighs and runs his hand on the back of his neck. One of his nervous ticks. But what does he have to be nervous or scared of?

“Can we talk?” he finally asks, his voice coming out low and almost gravelly.

A knot forms in my stomach. “About what?”

“Us,” he answers simply.

“There’s nothing left to talk about. There is no us, remember?” I force out so coldly that my voice could have been ice or even cut someone.

“I have plenty to talk about,” he shoots back, a flash of hurt shooting through his eyes.

“Yeah, well, you kind of ruined that, didn’t you? And you had your time to say everything you had or needed to say,” I spat at him, crossing my arms over my chest and raising an eyebrow at him.

“I was hoping not. Look, Natalie-”

“Don’t. Don’t even start,” I strangle out, doing my best to hold down the pain and tears. I do not need or want this wound to reopen again when I’m finally getting somewhere with myself.

He looks down at the floor and sighs again like he’s tired. He turns around and goes to the door but, when his hand rests on the doorknob, he stops. I watch him, my heart pounding in my chest and throat, wondering what’s going through his mind and what he’s doing. He abruptly turns around and strides back to me, putting his hands on either side of my face.

Before I can even process what he’s doing, he brings his lips to mine, making me gasp into his mouth. It feels so normal that I kiss him back after I get over the initial shock. It feels so normal that I forget it’s not supposed to be normal anymore. But then I remember. I remember how he pretty much dumped me. I remember how he’s acted like I’m not even alive until recently. As I remember all of this, I push at his chest and push him off of me, still gasping and trying to catch my breath.

“You can’t just do that!” I yell at him as he rubs his mouth and looks me in the eyes. “You can’t just kiss me like nothing ever happened! You can’t just come in and out of my life as you please! It doesn’t work like that!” I continue yelling, still gasping because I can’t seem to get enough air.

He looks at me calmly, which only frustrates me even more. “I know that,” he says, then pauses, gasping for air as well and wildness in his blue eyes. “I know that, okay? I'm sorry. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past few days. I’m sorry. I know how I handled things was wrong and shitty. But you have to know I had my reasons. I did what I felt that I needed to do.”

“Oh, you had reasons? Do tell. Please, I would love to know them,” I sarcastically reply.

He looks away for the first time since I pushed him off of me. “I...I can’t tell you that.”

“That’s pretty sad because you used to tell me everything,” I snapped, narrowing my eyes into a glare at him.

“Things change,” he answers, his voice steel now.

“Oh, how well do I know that,” I sneer back at him, my heart aching all the while.

He starts gathering his stuff up. “All we have left for the day is the journal. You said yourself that we don’t need each other for that. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says in a clipped, steely voice.

Frustration wells up inside of me, ready to boil over. He walks out of my room and shuts the door behind him with an almost quiet slam. It was like he had tried to stop himself from actually slamming it. I storm over to my dresser and pick up the picture he had set back up. I throw it at the wall the same way I did months ago. I hope the damn thing shattered.

AN: Thank you for the support so far. If you are enjoying the story and characters then please vote and review the chapters/stories. It would be greatly appreciated. I love you guys and have a beautiful day/night.

XOXO

BlueEyedMisfit