p o e t i c a l l y  s h a t t e r e d
CONRAD'S POV:

"Are you ready for midterms?" I ask Covey on our way out of the elevator of the apartment suites.

She tugs on the straps to her backpack and gives me a puffy-cheeked, fish face. "It's about poetry, right?"

"Yes."

"So it should be easy, right?"

"I can't name any specifics for you, nor can I say anything more than that," I say, reaching down to put her hand in mine. "That would be cheating and unfair to the other students."

"Since when did you care about that?" she snorts as she tugs me towards Troy who's working the counter in the foyer.

I shrug, letting out a grunt. "Midterms are different than... you know."

"Than having a lovey-dovey relationship with me?" she says, giving me a teasing smile. I roll my eyes, but she kisses my cheek anyways. "Yeah, okay Coco Puff."

Troy waves at Covey when she gives him a salute. "Hey T," she chirps, letting go of my hand. Little fucker. 

"Hey! How's my favorite couple doing today?" He runs a hand through his hair before opening the drawer to get out a pair of car keys. "I have a surprise for you."

Covey drops her jaw to the ground, recognizing the set of keys and which car they belong to. "Oh my holy dino chicken nuggets, I freaking love you!" she says dramatically, going behind the counter to hug him.

I glare at her. "Covey."

"What? This is my husband we're talking about," she says, taking the keys from Troy and hugging him longer than I'm comfortable with. Husband? "The car, idiot. Your car is my husband and he's been in the hospital for the last couple weeks."

I put a fist to my mouth and my index finger points at her. "Can you give Troy a little bit of breathing room, Cove?"

Noticing I'm affected by their close proximity, she smiles innocently. Then, to piss me off even more, she grabs his left cheek and plants a tender kiss on his right. "Thank you for reuniting me with my baby."

"My pleasure," he laughs, shaking his head.

I pinch my nose bridge and clench my jaw. When I hear Covey's footsteps retreating, I look to the door where she's walking out to meet my car in the valet area. Consequently, I give Troy a death glare. "Don't ever let her fucking kiss you again, bro. She's off limits. Obviously."

"Yes, sir." He offers me a funny look. "I can't believe you're so fucking obsessed with her."

My jaw pulls itself so it's even tighter. "Good, I'm glad that's obvious too."

He gives me a nod and raises his hands in surrender, and I start walking to meet Covey outside. She's bent over, looking at the rear bumper that got fixed. So, without caring who's watching, and without warning, I go right up to her figure and smack her ass as hard as I can. She lets out a loud gasp and her hands fall on the trunk of my car.

I bend over her body. My chest is pressed to her back and my hips are flush with hers as my lips brush against her ear. "Do you really think it's funny to play games like that, my love?" 

Covey's breathing goes ragged, and I feel her lungs fill with oxygen before she responds, "Yes, Sir. I think it's quite entertaining."

"Well," I say, my voice darkly smooth, "I find your little acts of mischief to be very condescending." I hum lowly, trailing my hands over her curves. "And I don't appreciate it."

"But," she whispers, her tone quiet. "Your car... it's fixed."

"And your lips... they touched Troy's cheek," I murmur back. "I would like an explanation."

"I wanted you to get jealous, duh-h," she says in her Covey kind of way, laughing in a shaky voice. "Now turn me around and kiss me like you mean it."

As she says those words, I pull away from her and press my mouth into a fine line. "No. Get in the car."

"What—"

"Just get in the car," I repeat, walking to the driver side. Fucking tease. Well, I can tease you right back. I watch her sit down in the seat before she begins fiddling with her fingers, and I slowly step into the car. "You look ravishing, I don't think I told you that today.."

"Oh, don't even start with that," she says shyly, averting her gaze out the window. "By the way, Troy's cheek is really soft. You know, he doesn't have a bunch of stubble like you—"

"Covey, can you please stop fucking with me right now?" I deadpan, rolling my eyes. "I don't wanna know about Troy's stupid ass cheek. You flippin' know you like my stubble."

She laughs again. "Okay, Mr. Grumpy Grinch. It's just... your car... and then he handed me the keys... and you already know I love your Mustang. So, I thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. It's just what I did and I thought to do it because for one, he needs a little love, and two, it was funny and you already hated the fact that I hugged him. Plus, you're hilarious when you get jealous, Coco Puff. I mean, have you seen yourself—"

"Okay," I say, cutting her off and waving my hand. "I get it. You wanted me to punish you and spank your ass like I did out there, hmm?"

She lifts her hands to her cheeks. "Of course," her voice is sarcastic, "way to jump to conclusions, buddy."

"Ah, you did, didn't you?"

Her cheeks paint over with a small blush. "Shut up."

I smirk, raising an eyebrow at her. "So you did?"

"Conrad."

I put my hand on her upper thigh as my pinky finger rubs the hem of her denim shorts. "You're such a naughty girl. Oh, what am I going to do with you?"

"Kiss me like you mean it," she says again, pressing her case.

"Nope," I reply, starting the car. "Not after your lips touched my friend's. Kisses only belong to good girls."

Covey crosses her arms over her chest. "Since when?"

"Since now."

"Touché, brontolo," she grumbles. "Tou-freaking-ché."

I take in a deep breath and put my seatbelt on before pulling out of the driveway to turn onto the street. And the car ride is silent for a couple minutes, a comfortable kind of silence, before Covey reaches over to rest her hand on my knee. And I swear to freaking god I had to grip the steering wheel tighter.

She slowly trails her hand up my leg and I know she's staring at me to gag my reaction, so all I do is clench my jaw and keep my eyes on the road.

"If you're so paranoid about deaths on the road, you really shouldn't distract your driver," I inform her, switching on the blinker to change lanes.

She hovers her fingers over the fly to my dress trousers. "So pull over."

"I have to be at school earlier today to prep for midterms—"

"Pull over," she says again in a whisper. She unbuttons the top of my pants and I turn at the stoplight to park the car in the nearby shopping center. Her hands work fast and I'm barely turning the car off when I feel her small hand wrap around me. 

"Fuck," I grit out, relaxing in my seat. "Fucking hell."

A soft moan erupts from her mouth and she looks at me innocently. "If you would have just kissed me—"

"Don't even smart me right now," I say, looking down at my hardening erection in her hands. Shit. This is when my plan to not give her a single kiss backfires? Well, screw me. 

Covey moves her hand up and down my length a few more times until I'm completely hard. And she kisses my lips once before she bends down to take me in her mouth. I grab her hair as I let out a loud groan, and I hold it in a ponytail so I can watch her beautiful face. God. What the hell. 

Shutting my eyes, my mouth goes slack and the only sound that comes out of it are harsh breaths and hisses. Her fingers wrap around my base as she sucks off my tip, and I feel my throat get caught while my Adam's apple bobs up and down in attempts to free it.

After a couple minutes of the both of us fighting to breathe, Covey lifts her head and tries to fill her lungs back up with oxygen. 

I gulp and gaze at her with hooded eyes, shaking my head. "I'm gonna fuck you so good when we get home tonight," I tell her slowly, my jaw clenched. 

I flinch just the slightest when she pumps me faster. "You say that like it's a threat."

"Oh, it is." A moan escapes from my lips and I curse under my breath. "A very—shit—big fucking threat—fuck. Baby, I—"

Yet, almost as if she knows, Covey opens her mouth again and wraps her lips around me. She takes me deep so I hit the back of her throat, and I let out a deep, growling, and strangled kind of moan.

Her tongue runs over my sensitive tip over and over again, and both her hands follow her mouth's lead as she goes up and down, round and round, back and forth, in and out. Faster and harder and even more torturous. 

I screw my eyes shut and grab the back of her hair even tighter as if it'd help with the tension that's building up within my stomach. My heartbeat quickening, I feel my high coming on.

"Covey," I mumble breathlessly. "Fuck, I'm coming—"

And then she deepthroats me, tipping me over the edge so I can let out a much needed release.

"Fuck, Cove." I slide down in my seat a bit and attempt to catch my breath. Tracing my hand down her figure, I rest it on her ass as I grip the fabric of her black leggings. "Holy fucking shit, baby."

"Mhmm," she hums softly, licking me clean before looking in the glove box for a napkin. When she's done cleaning the both of us up, she buttons my pants and fastens my belt as if she didn't just go down on me. "Look, and nobody has to know I just gave you head," she explains, reaching down to cover the small bulge in my pants.

"Keep touching me like that and I'll make you take it again," I say, sitting up and fixing my tie.

"Always so serious, Coco," she laughs, playfully rolling her eyes. "'I'll make you take it again. Don't fucking say bad words—'"

"Covey."

She continues talking in a deep voice using air-quotes. "'Get up or else we'll be late. Did you use the bathroom? I don't want you to getting a UTI. Are you hungry? Did you eat? You didn't eat enough. We need to go to the gym. You can't wear that around college guys. No fucking dino chicken nuggets—"

"That's enough." I grab her face and kiss her lips softly. "You make me sound like a controlling boyfriend."

Giggling a little, she bites on my lower lip. "You kinda are in some aspects of my life, but you're the only exception."

"Tell me what to change and I'll change it," I say, brushing my nose against hers. "I don't want you to think that about me."

I feel her shrug under my arms. "I love you just the way you are and I think you're fan-dino-tastic."

I give her one of my genuine smiles and close my eyes in contentment. "I think you are fan-dino-tastic too, mi amore. Like holy dinos fan-fucking-tastic."

She laughs again, and then says, "Wait, I just noticed something. Isn't it supposed to be amore mio if you're trying to speak Italian?"

I open my eyes again, giving her a quizzled expression. "Way to kill the mood, smartass. I blend Italian and Spanish sometimes. I'm Puerto Rican too. Remember, amore mio?"

"Sí, pero no lo entiendo." Beaming at me with a smile. "Bro, I just mixed Spanish and Italian too—"

"Don't call me bro," I deadpan, narrowing my eyes to slits.

"Babe, sheesh." She flips her hair and scoffs. "I was just tryna be as cool as you." Then putting her deep voice back on, she says, "'Way to kill the mood.'"

"Alright," I take a deep breath and turn the car back on. "We need to get to school."

She crosses her arms with an attitude, but I see the smile on her lips from the corner of my eyes. "Whatever, Mr. Grumpy Grinch."

Just as I am about to turn out of the parking lot, my phone rings and judging by the contact name, I answer.

"What?" I ask in a clipped voice. 

"Hello to you too," Matteo says over the line.

Turning my blinker on, I get back onto the main road. "Did you talk to Dad?" As the words fall off my tongue, I notice Covey tense.

Matteo clears his throat. "That is not important right now."

Clenching my jaw and tightening the grip I have on the phone, I say, "It's the most important thing right now, bro. So did you talk to him or not?"

"I didn't call about that," he answers.

"Then what's so important? Why did you call?" I glance over at Covey who's biting her lip.

He doesn't respond right away and the car is nearing the park I normally drop Covey off at. Matteo sighs. "Alright, I did call about that—I called about two things actually—but that's last."

"What's the first then?"

He hesitates, saying, "Veronica is pregnant."

I almost drop my phone. Holy fucking dino chicken nuggets. Covey must notice the change in my demeanor because she reaches over to put a hand on my thigh.

I bite the inside of my cheek. "And?" How the fuck did that happen?

"I'm the fa—"

"I figured," I deadpan, cutting him off. "I'm not stupid. I can put two and two together."

As much as I can try to act unaffected, I know it's impossible. 

"Damn bro, no need to get defensive," he says, his tone a bit mocking.

I chuckle, almost evilly. "I don't need to know about Veronica, I don't want to know about Veronica, and I can't believe my dick went in the same girl who is—"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." There's a threat in his voice.

Covey quickly tries to reach for the phone but I shrug it away from her. "Conrad!" she whisper-shouts.

"Not the time, love." I wave her off and pull up to the park.

Matteo curses under his breath, saying, "She's carrying my kid and I happen to be damn delighted. In fact, I even proposed to her. That's reason number one for why I called—"

"You what?" I scoff.

"We're getting married next month," he says, and I can hear the edge in his voice. "But that's besides the point."

"No." I shut the car off and adjust in my seat, loosening my tie. "I won't ever be able to look you in the eyes again if you get married to her."

He laughs. "Well that's your issue to work out. She's not carrying your baby."

"You know what Veronica is to me," I say lowly, completely forgetting Covey is right next to me in the car. Shit. Fuck. Double fucking shit.

Matteo clicks his teeth. "Just because she took your virginity—"

"Don't. Go. There." I hiss, hitting the steering wheel harshly causing Covey to flinch. "Don't fucking go there."

"The truth hurts, little bro."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shake my head defeatedly. "Good for you." That's all I have left to say about this. "Now tell me about—"

"Dad," he finishes. "Right, well, he doesn't want to rewrite his terms. It's either you give Stefan your rights of second-in-command and let Covey work at in clubs, or you become a part of the family business."

So Covey has no way out? "It's not a family business if it's what tore our family apart," I explain, sinking deeper into my seat.

And I would never—never in a million years ever—force her or sign her life over to a club. But if I agree to this lifestyle, her life will, in one way or another, change forever. And she might even leave me—no.

"You would only need to be a small percentage of the company," he says nonchalantly, trying to convince me.

"How much?" I question, rubbing the small stubble on my shin.

"Not even five percent," Matteo informs me. "You have an offer of just keeping inventory. You would have to move here to LA, but Dad says he'll start you off with a guaranteed fifty million. And no one has to know—"

"Nobody?"

"Covey will be safe, you will be safe. Dad literally just wants the satisfaction of—"

"Him being right," I answer. "I know—fucking shit, god—I know." I've lived with that all my life.

"I've said it before—I think—and if I haven't, I'll say it right now. Covey is a keeper." Matteo sighs over the phone. "And it might hurt your pride—" And break my promise to my mother. "It might hurt your precious fucking pride to accept Dad's requirements, but if you claim she's worth it like you say she is... then this might be worth it. I'm talking a brother on brother heart-to-heart right now."

I inhale deeply, letting out a loud breath. And all I say in response is, "I'll think about it."

"You should." There are a few other voices  that come into the background. "Look, I've gotta go. Remember, I'm being decent for once." Decent.

"Decent besides the fact—"

"Bye." The call ends before I even have a chance to finish my counter argument. Idiot.

I slowly and almost robotically remove the phone from my ear. That's when Covey turns to me nervously, lip between her teeth and questions written in her big, shiney, hazel eyes.

And I put on my façade because of all the questions flipping inside my own mind, telling her; "It's nothing."

******
COVEY'S POV:

The phone call finally ends and I feel like I can actually breathe again. I don't know how much anxiety I can take before my midterms. Only being able to pick out a few sentences here and there, I literally know nothing about what that phone call was about—and I hate it. I hate not being in the loop for the millionth time around.

Conrad takes the phone from his ear and locks it, setting it in the cupholder. I turn to him, biting on my lip. And he gives me a confused facial expression, hurt and mad and fake all at once, before saying, "It's nothing."

I swear to the dino gods. I want to laugh or cry or maybe a lot of both.

"Conrad," I whisper, yet my voice comes out strong. Shutting my eyes, I try to regain my composure. "Conrad Declan Monroe, you do not get to tell me that was nothing."

"It is." He reaches over to unbuckle my seatbelt, saying, "It's absolutely nothing. You don't need to worry, baby."

I shake my head, breathing heavily. Don't cry. "You told me you were going to try. So try."

"Try what?"

"Don't be stupid, Coco. I need you to try for me," I say, shifting myself so my back is against the passenger door and I can look at him fully.

Conrad runs a hand through his gelled hair, messing it up. "This is me trying, Covey. And I don't need to say anything other than I'm fine, that it's okay, and that this is nothing."

I can't even. "Conrad."

"Covey."

"I don't want to fight with you about being open with me again," I say quietly, pouting my lip. "But I want to know what that phone call was about. I have every right as your girlfriend to know."

"Cove, I can't—"

I feel my throat close up and tears start to prick my eyes. "You can, but you're choosing not to." I sigh, watching my thumb go over my knuckles impatiently. "Why? Why are you so closed off?"

"Covey."

"Conrad, please, I need you to open up to me. It can't be that bad," I plead, reaching over the center console to squeeze his hands. "Please."

"Baby—"

"Don't call me baby if you won't tell me and explain to me what that call was about," I say, tears escaping my waterline as I press my hands into his. "Who is Veronica to you and what don't I know about her?"

He averts his gaze away from mine, his jaw twitching and eyes icing over with a glare, and he rests the back of his head on the headrest of the seat. Conrad responds, "Nothing. She is nothing and was nothing to me."

I dig my fingernails into his palms, my voice cracking as I cry out, "Who is she? What don't I know? Why is it so hard for you to just answer me?"

"I promise," he whispers, pulling his hands from mine as he shifts in his seat to look out the window. "I promise is our always."

I shove him in the shoulder before crossing my arms over my chest. "Then please start acting like you care about our always."

"There's some things you won't understand. She doesn't mean anything to me, at all." There's a choke in Conrad's voice. "But my brother—I guess, well, she only matters when it comes to him."

"So freaking tell me!" I say, my hands shaking. "I need to know about that if I'm supposed to trust you. I need to know about that if you want me to marry you and have your kids. I need to know about the girl your dick went inside before me, Conrad. The Before. I need to know about The Before."

His fist drops onto the steering wheel. "It's not like that, Covey."

"Then what is it like?" I say, wiping my tears. "Tell me. What. Is. It. Like? Huh? Because you're not doing a very good job explaining it to me."

"I can't—"

Grabbing my backpack, I roll my shoulders and open the car door. "I'm leaving."

"No," he says frantically, jumping to reach for me. "Don't go, Covey, don't go."

"There's no use," I cry, pulling away from him. "We keep running around in circles. I want to know what and why and who and when and how, but you won't tell me. So when you want to talk for real, then, I guess I'll be around."

"Covey," he whispers, his eyes pleading with mine. No. "Just give me a couple minutes. You know I want to try, and I've told you I want to try. It's just—hard." Snizzle crackers.

"I gave you the chance already," I frown, putting my face in my hands. "When you work your shit out, let me know. For now, I'm gonna go."

"Don't leave," he refuses. He is desperate and persistent. "Don't leave me."

"I'm not, I'm just giving you space to figure yourself out," I advise, putting my big girl pants on and strapping my backpack over my shoulders. "See you in class." Turning around, I feel my world collapse in front of me in tears and it's hard to see straight.

I walk the same path I do every day I have classes, only this time it feels different. I feel lost amidst my familiar surroundings. I look back, wiping my eyes, and see Conrad's head rested on the steering wheel in front of him. So he's not fighting me on this? He's not gonna chase after me? Alright then. I hope he gets himself together.

Taking my phone from my pocket, I call the one person who I know will just listen to me. Lizzie. After the first few rings, she finally answers the FaceTime call with a fry in her mouth. "Lizzie—"

"Woah, hermosa, what's wrong?" she asks, getting up from her seat to go to a more secluded and quiet area.

"He still won't talk to me," I mumble, my hands shaking. I sit down at a nearby bench and look through the camera. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Explain the details," she says, frowning.

I nod. "I don't really know. This weekend, as you know, has been very emotional between the two of us. There were some things he knew that I didn't, and he apologized saying he would try to let me in more, but he's still doing the same thing. I can't keep doing this with him, we're getting nowhere." I feel like I'm rambling, and the fact that I'm crying doesn't help either.

"Maybe you just need some space," she whispers. "Like to realize how important you are to each other."

"He doesn't want space," I explain, "but he's not learning anything even with me next to him." Sighing, I say, "Oh, I don't know what to do anymore, Liz."

She purses her lips together. "You can come to Maryland next week for Spring Break?" she suggests. "Just a girl trip?"

"Really?" I ask, slightly smiling as I wipe my puffy eyes again.

She smiles sympathetically. "Yeah."

"Okay, I think that'd be nice." I bite the inside of my cheek. "I can see if I can get a flight for Friday?"

She nods, her eyes smiling as wide as her teeth. "Yay! Keep me posted."

"Thank you," I whisper, wiggling my fingers at the screen. It's our secret handshake.

She wiggles her fingers back at me. "Love you, hermosa."

"Love you too." I wave goodbye and end the call, sitting up from the bench and walking towards the campus. Since when did things get so complicated?

******

I walk into class a minute before class starts, finding a seat in the top last row closest to the back. Putting Conrad's hoodie over my head, I try to hide myself as I watch the clock until it hits ten on the dot.

Conrad, as always, walks into the class with a grim expression set on his features, only this time it's even more hard set and distraught. He shuts the lecture hall door and stands at the front of the room before speaking; "I have emailed everyone's poetry prompt to their student emails. Each prompt is different, so it is almost impossible for you to cheat on your paper. Any questions before you begin?"

No one raises their hand.

"Good," he says curtly, looking over the auditorium of students until he lands on me. There's a flinch in his eyes and he shakes his head at himself as he glances away. "Well, open your email and begin the test. You have until the end of the class period to complete it."

I grab my laptop out of my backpack and set it on the lap desk in front of me. I watch Conrad take a seat at the desk in the front of the lecture hall before I decide to read my prompt.

I click on his email.

From: Professor Monroe
[email protected]
To: Covey Jensen
[email protected]
Subject: Midterm Prompt

Covey Jensen,

Please write a poem describing a situation in your life you wish you could control.

Oh, that should be easy. I stop reading the prompt and turn my attention back to Conrad who is discreetly looking up at me. Shaking my head, I read more of the prompt. 

It can be a relationship between you and another person, you and an object, you and an event. Whatever it is, you are to not use any similes. Only metaphors. Your poem should have a minimum of three stanzas and four lines for each stanza. If you have any questions, ask me via the email above. When you have completed the assignment, please attach a word doc of your poem to this email.

Best,
Professor Monroe

I get right to work and open up a blank Google Document, trying to search my brain of inspiration. A situation I wish I could control... well, there are many—

Tilting my head to the side, I watch the rest of the class begin typing their fingers to death and I feel trapped. And then, my eyes—once again—land on Conrad's lean physique and cool-gray glare. Bingo. He gives me a small and sad smile before looking at the computer on his desk to occupy himself.

I begin writing; Under the Duvet.

Under the Duvet.

He read between the lines
of the words I wrote on paper.

Taking a deep breath, I bite on my thumbnail as my knee bounces up and down.

Took me to cloud nine,
and then became my anchor.

It takes me a solid five minutes to get the first stanza done, but as soon as I complete it the sparks of inspiration and ideas come at me like lightning.

He was my kryptonite,
but I couldn't stay away.
Temptation leaves you blind,
and expectations bring you pain.

When seeing him's forbidden,
desire's set ablaze.
Secrets intertwined the walls,
and the sheets of the duvet.

They say great teachers leave a mark.
I guess pretty students leave a stain.

I read over my work again and again and again. My heart shatters and it breaks and is asking to be mended, yet nothing happens. I get no help. And stuck between the send and delete button with five minutes until the class period ends, I don't know what to do—again.

He'll know what I mean by this. Right? It's risky, but it's the truth.

If I could control how he makes me feel and how I make him feel and how we feel together—things would be so much easier. If we just worked things out. If he let me in...

I can only hope he doesn't kill me for writing about this as my midterm assignment.

Shakily, my index finger hits send and I quickly shut my computer screen in hopes it'd make my email go away. Holy dino nuggies. I may have just made things worse.

"It is eleven," Conrad says, standing up from his chair. "Please turn in your assignment if you have not already. I will grade whatever you were able to complete. Thank you and have a nice remainder of your day."

I slide my computer back into my backpack and start my way down the aisle. And ducking my head from his view behind one of the taller students exiting the class, I successfully walk out of the lecture hall. But of course, I bump into Venice on my way out.

"We're always running into each other," he laughs, giving me a grin. "Hey, how'd your midterm go?"

"It was fine," I say, looking over my shoulder where Conrad exits the hall to his office. We make eye contact and I glance right back at Venice. "Yours?"

"Absolute trash," he says, snorting. "I might be an English major, but I don't do poetry."

"Hmm," I hum, keeping Conrad in my peripheral. He slowly turns the knob to his office door to seem occupied, but I know he's watching me. "Wanna grab a coffee?" I ask Venice, giving him a fake smile. "I could really use the pick me up right now."

He nods his head and bends down before putting me over his shoulder. Oh. "It's on me, babe," he chuckles, walking towards the food court.

Kicking my feet, I shriek, "Wait, put me down! Everything is backwards and upside down."

Venice obliges and I turn my eyes straight towards Conrad. He gives me a nod that says, 'I see how it is,' and I gulp. Yeah, coffee sounds like a wonderful idea.

"Venny," I say, catching up to his long, masculine strides. "Do you think it's unreasonable to tell someone to work their shit out before they try to start something with you?"

He stops in his tracks, widening his eyes. "What literally happened to Covey?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows together. "And to answer your question, I believe voicing your opinions is completely valid. People should definitely try to avoid pulling you into their drama unless they give you a reason or explanation." We turn the corner and it's silent as I process his words. Then he asks, "Why?"

So I say the same thing Conrad told me earlier, "It's nothing."

******
AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Word Count: 5320 (aka the longest and saddest and idek what, chapter of the book)

I'm so sorry it took me forever to update. I wanted to give you guys everyday updates again but it just didn't happen. My apologies. I have a jam-packed schedule coming up, but I can assure you that I will be working my butt off to get this story finished for you. Now that the hard chapter is done, well, hopefully the rest will come to me easier.

PLEASE DON'T SEND ME DEATH THREATS HAHAHA :'(

Vote and comment, it means a lot to me and motivates me to continue writing! <3