Bad Boys Do Cry

66: I Will Hurt You

He's like a fucking cockroach. Undying.

"No, get the fuck out."

"Hazel, I just wanna,"

"No," I interrupt him for what feels like the millionth time.

My father decided to show up again this morning. He must be the one that hit his head because I swear I've told him to get lost. I don't know what convinced him to come back or believe we would even want him back. He destroyed our family and I resent having to carry his last name. If only the twins were girls so the Kindler last name could die off forever. Nobody deserves this fucked up bloodline.

My father is standing in the same suit as every other day, expectant that today will be the day he steps into this house and rejoins the family. Not likely, Tim. This little every day stunt he's pulling is starting to ruin my mood.

And I should be happy, I can barely walk.

"I'm gonna tell you one more time," I warn, "You have no right to show up here. You left. You walked away. You are no father to me or the twins. You can't just walk in here and think we're going to become some happy family. We're already happy, without you," I'm about to slam the door and then I remember, "Oh, and Oliver didn't push me, asshole, I remember."

I slam the door in his face. An overwhelming wave of relief and satisfaction flows through me. I did it, I blew up at my father. I finally told him to fuck off like I should of that first day he decided to show up.

I lean against the door and listen as the footsteps of my father fade away, never to be heard again. I exhale deeply, sliding down the door until I'm sitting down. Unexpectedly, I see a droplet hit the tile. I furrow my eyebrows at the water on the floor. It's raining? Wait, no, it's my own hot tears falling.

I laugh a little at my own stupidity. I'm crying over my father whom I hate. I should be rejoicing that I finally got rid of him, hopefully for good. What's wrong with me?

"Haze?" I hear Oliver, "Haze, are you crying?"

I look up to him, not even answering the question. That immediately answers his question and he crouches down in front of me.

"I heard what you said," He begins, "It was kinda badass."

"Just kinda?"

Oliver sits down beside me and give me a hug. His strong arms wrap around me, shielding me from any harm. He sits there calmly and quietly waiting for me to speak up. I sit there for a while letting his safety envelop me.

"I don't even know why I'm crying, I hate his guts."

"He's still your dad."

"Parents are overrated."

Oliver hugs me tighter and laughs lightly, "I know."

We sit there, on the floor by my front door for what seems like hours but is only about five minutes. Neither of us say anything else and since the twins were still at their sleepover, the house was completely silent. It'd been ages since the house had been this quiet. But I, for once, wasn't scared of it, the stillness. I actually felt comforted by it.

"I can't believe you made it to the door," Oliver says with a smirk on his face, cutting through the silence.

I roll my eyes and slap his arm lightly, "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not, just surprised."

There's a small smile on his face. It seems unconscious to him that he's even doing it. Although bruised, he still looks happier than he ever has. There's a sparkle in his eyes that masks the discoloration of the bruise around it, which was almost gone by now.

After a couple of seconds of silence, Oliver stands up and extends a hand out to me, asking if I'm ready for breakfast. I look to him, then the hand, down to where I'm sitting on the floor, and finally back up to him. Yeah, there's no way I'm getting up gracefully any time soon.

I give him a smile and pleading eyes, ignoring the fact that what I'm about to say completely contradicts my earlier statement, "Will you carry me?"

He smirks, "I knew I was good."

Although he's cocky, Oliver picks me up with ease bridal style from the floor. I wrap an arm around his neck for some extra support but I know he doesn't need it.

"I will hurt you," I threaten him.

He looks down to wink at me, "I did it first."

I can tell we're joking, but talking about my state reminds me about his own. I'm nervous to ask. What if I was terrible? What if he wants out now that he got his bang? Oliver Grey is a man of experience and I had zero to give him. He meant a lot to me, but I didn't see myself as a girl that actually brought something to the bed. How good could it have been for him?

"Um, Oliver?" I start, already regretting speaking up.

He's already set me down on my bed and was making his way back out to make some breakfast for us. Thankfully, my father came by early so I didn't have to deal with him when the twins were here. Unfortunately, I had to deal with him with no caffeine in my system. Oliver turns around, stopping in his tracks. He stays silent, eyebrows raised, waiting for me to continue.

"How was it? For you, I mean."

There's a second of silence and I take it as another opportunity to talk, "It's just, I've never done something like that before. I mean, the farthest I'd gotten was kissing John in first grade when we got married on the playground. You just, you're the Oliver Grey, and I'm just Hazel, and I don't know."

Thankfully, Oliver cuts off my rambling. He's somehow made it to the bed again and sits facing me. There's a playful smirk on his face but his eyes are sincere. He grabs my hand, making them let go from the locket I was tightly grabbing.

"Haze, first off, it was the greatest experience of my life. Second, I've only ever done it with two other girls. Once, drunk at a party, which I still regret, and my first time in freshman year when I was dating that one chick," He tries to think of her name but doesn't seem to be able to do so, so he just brushes it off.

It shocked me to hear that Oliver had only ever been with two other girls. It didn't add up with the stories and rumors that spread through the school. But then again, those were all about making out with the whole cheer team or getting caught skipping. I'd made up my own idea of who Oliver Grey was, and slowly, he showed me I was completely, absolutely, one hundred percent wrong. Oliver Grey is not some bad boy riding the coattails of his rich father. He's broken in his own way, perfectly.

"Greatest experience?"

"It meant something. And, you're pretty good in bed if I do say so."

"You too," I smile, still looking down at my hands that are being help by Oliver's, "I was nervous that my lack of experience was a turnoff."

"Hey, look at me," Oliver brings a hand to my chin so that he can guide my eyes to his face, "I love you."

I nod, "I love you."

"Plus, I was cockblocked so many times," He trails off, smirking at me softly.

I roll my eyes but laugh a little, "Please, you love a good tease."

"Only from you."