From The Start (1st Draft)

Chapter 17

"How?" I frowned shyly, wanting to pull away my hand.

"Because you're exactly right," he admitted.

I was about to smile until I held it back. "I am?"

He nodded quickly, playing with my fingers and then leaning back from me, putting up another wall. "Yup," he mumbled, gazing off towards the trees again.

"Want to tell me what's bothering you?"

"Nope," he said, almost looking scared of something.

"Alright," I whispered, crossing my arms and staring down at my legs.

A few long, desperate minutes passed by, and I was starting to get a little worried.

"This isn't fair," I complained, him shooting a stare at me.

"What isn't?"

"How you take me out on this boat and you completely tune me out and don't even have the decency to tell me what I did to make you this mad," I scowled.

"What you did?" he frowned, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

"Yeah. I obviously screwed something up, and you should at least tell me what it is," I ordered.

"Why are you always picking on yourself? You make it seem like every single thing you do is wrong, when you're just not making any sense," he argued. "Leave yourself alone for once."

"Oh really? Then why are you so angry with me right now?"

"With you? This has nothing to do with you at all," he told me, leaning forward again, but this time his hands were on his head and his elbows on his knees.

"If it has nothing to do with me then why can't you just tell me what's hurting you so much?"

He cautiously looked up at me and suddenly looked confused. "Hurting me?"

"Yeah, hurting you."

He laughed out of aggravation, making me want to hit him. "I'm fine Rosie, just stop bugging me about it."

"Why won't you tell me? Maybe I can help," I offered.

"No. This is my shit, and I can deal with it on my own," he snarled.

"But you help me with my problems," I said quietly. "Why can't I ever help you?"

"Because I'm not like you, I don't have a billion problems."

Immediately my heart sank, and my face dropped. That hurt more then anything else in the world. "I see," I whispered.

"No, wait," he frowned, balling his hands into fists. "I didn't mean it like that, Rosalie. It came out wrong," he told me.

"Whatever," I groaned, glancing out at the flowing water and concentrating on the sounds of the wind.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I am, really sorry."

"It's alright."

"No it isn't, I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

"Sure, yeah," I mumbled.

"I'm just, so pissed off," he exhaled sharply, slamming his fist onto the ledge of his seat.

I stared at him with kindness. "It's okay, seriously. I know you didn't mean it," I smiled.

He didn't. "I have so much going on in my life right now," he whispered painfully.

"Like what? Open up to me," I begged him. "Please?"