Dirty Little Secret

one | foolish, naive, stupid

December

Riley

You know when you're in high school, and you promised your parents you'd tell them if you were ever in any trouble of any kind, and they'd help?

Doesn't matter if it's a flat tire, or you're drunk with no ride home, or it turns out your sweet boyfriend isn't as sweet as he seems.

Well, I can't tell my parents.

I'd promised my dad—an ex-cop—that if I ever ended up in this kind of situation, I'd tell him.

But I can't tell him. I really can't.

I met Gabriel Weston my freshman year of college. We clicked instantly. He had this boyish smile that had me swooning.

Me, the young eighteen-year-old, foolish, naive girl gave her virginity up to this sweet, charming blondie.

He's not sweet. He's not charming. I'm not even sure if he's a real blonde.

Mama Weston is a beautiful ginger. And Papa Weston has dark brown hair.

Gabe's older brothers? Both have chestnut hair. So where did the blonde come from? Chemicals. It had to have come from chemicals and a hairstylist. But he'd never admit it.

Now, you can call me foolish all you want, but you have to know the full story first.

I was eighteen. I'd hardly had a boyfriend. I was in a new state, with zero friends or family around.

I got into St.Timothy's Ivy League school on a full-ride scholarship.

I'm from South Bend, Indiana. Where my dad was a cop for seventeen years, and my mom ran my grandma's diner. But, Gram passed and Mom had to sell the place. Now, my dad has left the force and is helping my mom live out her dream of owning a food truck—selling mini donuts. It's quite the hit, surprisingly.

So, my parents sell donuts, my little sister is graduating from high school come May, and our youngest sister is only a freshman.

The first semester of my junior year of college is done, and I'm just counting down the days until I get to hug my family again.

But I got distracted, so back to the not-so-sweet boyfriend.

He started out perfect. Too perfect, obviously.

It wasn't until I was in too deep that I started noticing the changes.

He'd asked me to move in with him for sophomore year. But I don't have the money to rent an apartment—even half—and I knew I'd feel guilty about letting him pay. Even if he is crazy rich.

Gabriel Weston; star quarterback; hasn't worked an ounce of his life. He's seriously had everything handed to him on a silver platter.

I'd hurt his feelings when I told him I wanted to stay in the dorms. But in all honesty, we'd been together less than a year, I wasn't ready to move in with him anyways.

But he didn't like that. No, he didn't like that at all.

That was when things first shifted.

First, he started getting nosy. He wanted to know what I was doing, who I was with, and where I was at.

Then he started getting possessive. If there were other guys around, I wasn't allowed to leave his side without permission anymore.

After that came the verbal abuse. He started pointing out all of my flaws. He'd knock me down and then continue to kick me.