Page 32 of Bad Kind of Love

“If you’re still pissed at me.” I lift my head to gauge his reaction. Instead of responding, he drops down beside me. Slouching on the bench, he tilts his head back and peers up into the sky. There’s a small gap between us, our thighs are millimeters away from touching but that seemed to be the least of my worries.

“I’m not pissed at you.” He finally speaks up. “I just don’t get you sometimes.”

I didn’t want people to get me. I wanted them to avoid me.

“Good.” I adjust in my seat, gripping onto the arm rest beside me. “It’s better that way anyway.”

“For who?” He turns his head slightly, reading my eyes like he’s trying to understand.

“For me.” My eyes drop down to his hand that’s resting on his thigh. It appears swollen and bruised, probably sore as hell too. “How’s your hand?” I motion toward the welt.

Raising his hand as if to inspect it, he lets out a forced laugh. “Probably not as bad as my dad’s face.”

I could tell he felt like shit about what he did, even if he didn’t have the best relationship with him.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” I try to somewhat console him in the best way I could. The last thing I wanted was to get in the middle of it, but I think I crossed that line when I physically put myself between the both of them.

“Yah…probably.” He sighs.

Curiosity was getting the best of me. I didn’t plan on asking, but it just came out. “So what's the deal with you and Mr. Fitz anyway? Seems like more than just a bad relationship.”

Thinking he might shut me down, he peers at me questioningly. “You really wanna know?”

Nodding, I brush some blonde strands behind my ear. “Yah, I mean, if you want to tell me you can… but you don’t have too though. I don’t want to be nosy.” I blab on.

“It’s fine.” He sits up straighter. “Well... uh... I didn’t exactly know he existed till I was around ten. My mom decided to drop me off at his house like it was any normal day and that’s when all the problems started happening. I was hurt my mom threw me out like trash, hurt my dad wasn’t around and now I was stuck living with someone I barely knew.” His fists clench at his sides like he’s reliving his painful past. “Now I’m just waiting for graduation so I can get the fuck out of here.”

His words hit me deep because they were the same one’s I swore by. We were both dealt shitty cards in life growing up and now here we are.

“Where’s your mom now?” I peer up at his side profile. His defined jawline was that of a marble statue, sharp and elegant. It was impossible not to admire him. He had a timeless face that any man would be envious of.

“Who the fuck knows?” He chuckles darkly. “I stopped caring after my sixteenth birthday.”

Frowning, I knew exactly how he felt.

“Thirteenth.” I add while staring off into the distance. The moon dances over the small pond that’s a few yards in front of us.

“Huh?” He questions.

“I stopped caring after my thirteenth birthday.” I admit.

His eyes soften when he realizes he isn’t the only one without a mother.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, focusing on the glistening pond. The light of the moon reflected off the water, creating a glittery effect. It was calming, almost sensual in a way as I sat within arm’s length of one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen.

“I’ve managed.” I shrug. A cool breeze suddenly hit me, and I tugged my jacket closer to my skin.

“How’s your dad doing?” He asks, surprising me he even remembered anything about my dad.

“As good as you can be in prison.” I grin, watching out of the corner of my eyes as he smiles.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what did he do?” He sounded hesitant at first, but it was only fair to tell him after he told me his story.

“He was caught in a sting operation six years ago with ten pounds of stolen cocaine.” I wince, noticing how messed up it sounded. “He wasn’t the same after my mom dipped out on us. I guess he thought the only way to keep us afloat was to sell drugs.”

His sorrowful eyes connected with mine, and something unusual passed between us. There weren't sparks flying, but there was an understanding in them that made me feel like I wasn’t the only kid with a fucked up family.

Coughing, he averts his eyes, focusing on the bruise forming on his hand. “Is he getting out soon?”

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