Chapter 6

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     Thankful that Bryce drove me home, I now have to come to terms with the fact that my brother may possibly be awake and pissed off. 

     I tighten my grip around the door handle, silently letting go and stepping inside. My footsteps are as inaudible as my breathing as I slowly inch closer to the stairs. No creaks, slips or bangs are anywhere in my near future but somehow Blake still finds me. 

    The living room light flickers on and I lose my balance. Turning around to find my brother in a pair of ratty old pajama pants. A stern line on his lips.    "Where were you?" He asks. 

     "I was out with my friends." I lie. 

     "Oh really? Because you reek of alcohol." He scoffs.

     "Oops?" I shrug. 

     "Just go upstairs. I don't want to hear anything else from you." He demands. 

     "Yes, father." I salute, darting up the stairs and into my bedroom. I try to remain focused on the moonbeams spread across my floor other than the familiarity of what Cooper said to me tonight. 

"Whore" that one solitary word rings in my head, up until my eyes close and I fall asleep. 

• • •

     Morning wakes me with a slight pounding in my head. Already as I stumble out of bed, tripping over my shoes that I never took off last night, along with my clothes that still smell of vodka. I know this is one of those days that won't treat me kind.

     There's a knock at my door and with a quiet "come in" I brace myself for the rest of Blake's lecture that he never finished last night. Except it's not Blake. 

  "I heard you came home late last night." Grandma studies my weak state as I now shuffle towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and fix the mess that is my hair.

    "Yes I did." I answer, finishing in the bathroom moments later I search for an outfit that isn't. . .this one. 

     "Do you want to tell me why?" She asks. 

     "I came home late because I just wanted to go out and have fun with my friends. Is that okay?" I sigh 

     "That's fine honey," she says. "When you come downstairs I'll give you some aspirin for that headache you must have." She smiles, exposing her wrinkles at the crease of her eye. 

     "Thank you grandma." The words reach her eventually and with a nod she leaves me to myself.

     I make my way down the stairs, avoiding the creaks and cracks, I can practically hear Blake brooding at the breakfast table meanwhile grandma sets out her famous banana pancakes.

      Once I make it to the kitchen, there he is, my brother. He's towering over his empty plate, reaching for the pancakes. I take the long way around the table and take a seat, glaring at the boy before me. Sometimes it's as if I'm staring at the male version of myself, we look so much alike. 

     At my mere appearance at the table, Blake scoffs. I think about yelling or defending myself but I end up ignoring him instead. 

     "Is there a reason as to why you two are not speaking?" Grandma asks, setting out a plate of food for me as well. 

      "She has no respect for anyone, coming home late. Drunk." My brother scoffs. Finishing his plate of pancakes. 

     "I do have respect for others, Blake. You just wouldn't know that, seeing as you only see the bad in situations. Maybe that's why you have no friends." I take the aspirin from my grandmother's outstretched hands and hop out of the chair and walk backwards towards the door. 

      "I do have friends!!" He yells but I'm out of the house soon after. Riley is waiting for me in her usual spot, a forlorn expression plays at her lips. 

     If I am being honest Blake has more than plenty friends, he is the type of guy who befriends everyone. 

     He's the linebacker on his football team, straight A's, loyal and generous. You name it. He is the guy that most girls need. . .except most girls these days seem to be looking for the bad boy. These girls think that they can change a bad boys ways, make him see things he hasn't seen before. Make him love. 

     Little do they know that it is all just a myth. Once a bad boy always a bad boy there is no changing them. 

     Especially not Cooper Rhodes.

     "What's wrong?" I ask, shaking her awake from her deep thoughts and with that she's jolting upright. Hands tightening around the steering wheel. "Oh, erm. . ." 

      "Riley." I plead and with a defeated sigh she says. "It's Dawson. He's back." 

      My ex is back. The only man I've ever feared. He's back. "H-how?! Why?!" He shouldn't be here. He should be expelled. In prison. Dead! 

      "It's okay. It's okay, breathe. Kyla, breathe." Riley hushes me, but through the entire ride to school all I can think is. 

     I'm so dead.