Chapter - 5

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My lips were pressed into a fine line as I looked up at the glistening stars for a minute. Every single fiber of my being was telling me not to take his deal. It was absolutely absurd and very … shady, for lack of a better term. I mean, there has to be more to this! He is willing to cough up fifty-thousand dollars, so long as I marry him and let him talk to my father.

Thinking about my father for a second longer, I wondered if I would even be able to arrange a meeting for Bryson. My father and I weren’t on speaking terms as of this very moment. Hence, why he called the house phone and not my cell phone in order to say that he was sorry he couldn’t make it today for my graduation, which was a load of bull. He decided not to come, all because I wasn’t following in our families footsteps. Honestly, I believe he is acting beyond immature about this whole ordeal. Disowning me – or at least acting like he is going to - all because I will not go to Vanderbilt University.

Sitting there, bathing in the silence for a minute, I wondered how I would arrange a meeting between Bryson and my dad – if I was going to accept Bryson’s offer. I knew then and there that I would have to call him and try to ease over the rough patch we were going through. Cringing, I thought about all the things my father would say to me the second I called him. Yet, all the words he could ever throw at me seemed so minor to the idea of having a free ride to college. “Fine, you have your dim-witted deal, Stupid,” I told him with a hard glare in his direction.

Bryson gave me a wide smile and then stood up from the curb. Out reaching his hand, he offered to me help up. It took me all of three second to swat his hand away and give him an even harder glare, if that was possible. “Don’t be like that, Mrs. Wyatt,” he joked for the second time, as if we were already married.

I crossed my hands over my chest, in a pouting manner. “I hope you burn in Hell one day.”

Placing his hand over his heart he acted like my words wounded him. “Ouch, that was mean, especially coming from such a vulgar woman like you.”

It would be a crime if I didn't admit that his words 'a vulgar woman like you' didn't make me a little bit angry. However, I suppressed my anger as much as I could, which wasn't much. “That was nothing. Wait till my kick you square in the shin.” With that said, I got up off the side of the street. I literally bit down on my tongue as I tried not to weep in pain from my knee.

“That looks bad,” Bryson bluntly stated as he stared down at my leg.

“Oh, really?” I sarcastically added as I gave a roll of my eyes. I looked down at the scrap to see that it didn’t look like a scrap, more like a gash. Leaning down, I noted that I probably didn’t need to go to the hospital for it wasn’t that bad, but it was bad enough that it hurt like hell and was still slightly bleeding.

“I have a first aid kit in my car,” Bryson said as he walked back over to his car. Opening the driver’s door he leaned down and pulled a lever on the driver’s floorboard. The trunk popped open and Bryson walked over to it. After shuffling around some things in his truck, he pulled out a small white box. After pressing on the lid of the container it popped open. “Here,” he said as he handed me an alcohol pad and a small pack of butterfly stitches. "That should do the trick.”

I tore open the alcohol pad package and gave a deep frown. I knew the second it came into contact with my scrap it would sting. Sure enough I couldn't help but flinch as the wet pad touched the open wound. The burning pain forced me to look away and allow a tear to escape one of my eyes. “Ugh,” I muttered under my breath before removing the pad.

“I didn’t take you as someone with a low tolerance to pain, Ebony.” Bryson remarked at the worst possible time.

My mind begged for me not to reply, just too simply ignore him. Yet, my mouth was open and spewing words before I could even blink. “I didn’t take you as being a dick ... wait that is a lie, knew it all along,” I spoke as I applied the butterfly stitches.

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