Finding The Badboy's Diary [#ONC2022]

Chapter 21: The Wounds

Chelsea's POV

Mid-semester tests are over and our tutoring sessions are paying off as Terry gets a C in 70% of the courses and scaled a BC in a few others. It's not much but it's showing great progress and Terry is so happy that I feel satisfied for following my intuition.

Even the teachers are surprised by Terry's scores and there have been a few speculations by the students and teachers that he may be cheating.

As for our relationship, it has been going well ever since he confessed he likes me. We've been discreetly dating for a while with only our friends knowing about it, rather it hasn't been made official to the whole school which is partly my doing hence as you all know, I like my life private.

It's another Saturday and feeling a bit bored at home which seems to now be a problem, I decide to take a walk to Terry's house thus it's now clear to me his parents are never around.

It makes my mind wander on how lonely it was for him growing up as a child with parents who aren't there to kiss his wounds and sing him lullabies.

The soles of my sneaker-clad feet meet with the concrete walkway as I'm presently a few meters away from the mansion. Music blasts through the AirPods as I pull up the strap of the yellow blouse I'm wearing that's tucked into a pair of black sweatpants.

I'm two blocks away from his home when I notice a familiar figure leaning on the wall close to the gigantic gates. I disconnect the Bluetooth connection, my pace picking up as I practically run to the person, and I'm not all that stunned as I see Terry.

His face is scrunched up in what appears to be pain, his eyes clamped shut as he cradles what I discern to be a bleeding fist to his chest that stains the blue shirt he's sporting. He doesn't notice me as I approach, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his other hand wraps around his stomach.

"Terry, what happened?" I quiz, my voice carrying enough emotion that causes his lids to flash open in shock and recognition. "Why are you even out here? We should go inside, you don't look good."

"Chelsea? How did you get here?" He interrogates in confusion and I shake my head at him, gradually tugging the arm around his stomach and urging him forward.

"It doesn't matter how I got here what matters is what I can do now I'm here," I assert and nod at him encouragingly towards the gates. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

This time he shows no resistance and rather strides beside me silently as I closely observe his movements for any sign of internal injuries apart from the outer ones.

He comes off as walking straight apart from a hiss the moment I mistakenly press his stomach. We waddle past the gate into the premises, the gateman offering me a sympathetic look. It makes me wonder how many times such a thing has happened.

"How did you get your injuries?" I'm not able to contain myself from asking as we arrive at the entrance door and I push it open.

"Tony," he responds and I inhale remembering what he said last time about their previous encounter. "He said something like "how does it feel for me to get his leftovers?"

"Tell me you put him into a coma," I growl, my reaction surprising the both of us as he stops to stare at me for a second before breaking out in a grin.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," he chuckles and I snort motioning him to the stairs.

"Is that the only reason?" I dig, brows raised in scrutiny as I help him ascend.

"Do you want a list? Because I can go on and on," he blurts in a husky tone that nearly incites me to miss a step if I didn't catch up on time.

"I still ponder on how you have the energy to flirt with your bruises," I tease as we attain the first floor. "Where's Rose anyway?"

"Girl, with you I'm always in the mood to flirt." He winks and I fight against the instinct to jab him in the ribs as I recall his condition. "Also Rose went out with a guy."

I make a mental note to interrogate my friend later as he opens the door of his room. Striding behind him, I close it and see him sit carefully on the bed letting out another wince. "Now lift your shirt."

"Baby if you wanted to see me naked you should have simply said so, I'll oblige you." He smirks and I'm just about to give him a piece of my mind when he swiftly discards the shirt with his good hand which is his left, smearing more blood from his right fingers on the blue material.

The words seize in my throat and I squeeze my palms in a fist to help me control my hormones. He licks his lips at the desire I'm sure he notices in my eyes, his gaze turning intense. It takes all power in me not to crash on him and instead ask "Where's your first aid box?"

"Right there." He indicates blindly to a cupboard, not shifting his gaze from me.

"Thanks." I swallow, and disconnect our stare. I don't allow my eyes to linger on his eight-pack or the v line that disappears into his jeans or the tight biceps, and most of all the significant chest decorated by his manly nipples.

I quickly rush to the place he gestures and tug the cupboard to spot a neat first aid box. I snatch it up and bang the wood in its place before going to rest the box beside him on the bed.

"Do you have some aspirin?" I ask and he nods. "Good because you'll need it."

Freshy❤️