How Boys Think

Lesson #3: Guys Don't Hold Grudges

The ride home was a silent one. 

That is, it was until I broke the silence with my aforementioned big mouth. "I am such an epic failure at life."

Caiden didn't reply, just kept his eyes on the dark road ahead of us. 

"Let me come with you."

"No, Mina," He sounded tired and he probably was. This wasn't the first time I'd asked him to let me go down to the station with him. 

"Well, why not?" I demanded, frustrated. "I have to! This is all my fault. I can't just go home like nothing happened! I have to do something!"

"Amina. Listen to me." His rare use of my full name caught my attention. "There is nothing you can do. You can apologize for forever, despite the fact that none of this is your fault, you can go down there and demand that they let him off with a warning, you can even show them the video footage, but none of that will make any difference. I've said it once, and I'll say it again: This is not your fault."

I opened my mouth to argue again and then thought better of it. He was right. There was nothing I could do. I sighed in defeat. "Fine. Tell him to call me when he gets home, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

And we lapsed back into silence until he pulled in front of my house. I unstrapped my seatbelt, avoiding his eyes as I grabbed my bag as well. "Thanks," I said quietly. I opened my door to get out.  

"Mina." I paused, but didn't turn to look back at him. He shifted and then his warm fingers were underneath my chin, turning my face to his. I looked at him in surprise. His brows were lowered into a scowl and he seemed to be studying the side of my face. He turned my head this way and that as he examined me. "Looks like you're bruising." He released my chin and ran his fingers lightly over my cheekbone, his touch surprisingly gentle. Still, I couldn't help but wince slightly. "Does that hurt?" He asked me.

"Yes," I managed. My voice came out slightly strained and hoarse and Caiden's gaze shifted from my cheek to my eyes and he leaned almost imperceptibly closer as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest for some strange reason, before he seemed to realize what he was doing and sat back. 

He cleared his throat. "You should put some ice on that,"

I nodded again as I stepped out of his car, letting out a breath I'd only just realized I'd been holding. "Night Caiden,"

"Night Mini."

He watched me make my way up the front porch and unlock my door and get inside before honking twice and driving off as I stuck a hand through a crack in the door and waved.

This had been the weirdest, most messed up of nights. First I have to suffer through one hellish drag of a practice, then I pick a fight with a guy I couldn't possible hope to defeat while simultaneously managing to get my crush practically suspended indefinitely and hauled off to jail, before finally spending the car ride home begging, crying and being pathetic in front of said crush's twin brother, who, for some strange reason, made my heart beat faster than normal and whose touch I enjoyed, despite the fact that my aforementioned heart supposedly belongs to said twin brother's brother.

Why me? 

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My phone beeped at exactly three a.m. I know because I opened my eyes blearily and checked the time, cursing whoever dared text me at this profane hour, before actually reading the text. Once I saw who it was from, however, I took back all my vengeful words of hate and became instantly alert. Only one guy could do that.