Bad Boy Chemistry

18. Everything

I text again with one too many question marks.

Maybe if I keep spamming her, she'll open her phone and respond.

A familiar sound caused me to look up.

"Need a ride?" Ace asked from his motorcycle. He parked it right in front of where I sat and pulled off his helmet.

"I don't want to end up in hospital, again."

"You'd rather walk home?"

"I'm waiting for my mom." I lied. She still hasn't seen my message.

"Quit being such a wuss and get on." He held his helmet out towards me.

"What about my crutches?"

"Hand them here."

I did as he said, balancing on one leg against a sidewalk post. He pressed the button on each of the crutches and dismantled them, popping them into the pannier. The ends stuck out, but hopefully they won't fall out.

"Now, get on." He urged.

I put on the helmet he handed me and reluctantly did as he said, again.

I awkwardly grabbed to top of his shoulders, my hands grasping against his leather jacket.

"Dude, if we hit a bump, holding onto my shoulders might not be the best idea."

"Huh?"

"Put your hands around my waist."

Uh, I'd rather walk home.

"Don't make it weird." He added.

I rolled my eyes and reluctantly put my hands around his waist, the leather of his jacket cold against my hands.

"Wait, where's your helmet?"

"I don't need one." He said. I didn't need to see his face to know he had that annoying smirk across his face.

He started the motorcycle and revved it a few times before taking off.

"Please, don't murder us." I shouted of the sound of the motorcycle.

"I'll try my best."

To my surprise, he took it easy. I expected him to drive like he was on a racecourse or something.

I couldn't believe i was on a motorcycle with Ace Caldwell.

My arms slightly tightened around his waist, a sense of comfort enveloping me. I leant my head against the back of his left shoulder.

Wait. No.

Snap out of it, Charlie!

I gave myself a mental shake and pulled myself back, loosening my grip around him.

I never should have gotten on this death trap.

After driving across town, we finally made it to my house.

It wasn't as big as the other houses on the block. It had two storeys to it with three bedrooms total. The front lawn had a nice maple tree and a pretty garden that decorated along the bottom of the pale blue picket fence. Mostly Daisies, Peonies and Daffodils, all of my mother's favourite flowers. My father once tried to grow roses as a gift for my mom, but she didn't like them so she snipped them off with gardening shears.

The driveway was vacant, causing me to dramatically roll my eyes.

The motorcycle came to a halt and I was more than eager to get off.

I stood on one leg and hastily reached for my crutches to put them back together.

I felt like I was playing hopscotch.

"I think I deserve a five star rating" Ace said.

I slightly chuckled, finally clicking my crutches into place.

I crutched my way to the front door, hoping that at least one of my parents were home.

"The door's locked." I stated after trying to twist the handle.

"Where's your parents?"

"I don't know." I groaned in annoyance.

"Maybe they've been kidnapped and held hostage?" He suggested.

Idiot.

"You're so weird." I laughed.

"Hey, at least I made you laugh." He leaned against the railing of the porch, brushing a hand delicately through his brown hair. "Don't you have a spare key? Hidden under a rock or something?"

"No."

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yep." I lied.

Honestly, I felt as if I were on the verge of having a mental breakdown.

"I don't mean to overstep, but you don't seem okay."

"What are you? A therapist?" I sat down on the porch steps, setting my crutches beside me.

"No. But I know what it looks like when someone is struggling."

Maybe he's a psychic? Or a mind reader?

I didn't say anything.

"You seem upset. Or, depressed?"

"I can't explain it. I just, I hate it." I blurted out, utterly annoyed at everything.

"Hate what?" He says down beside me, his green eyes curiously looking into mine.

"Everything." I said in low spirits.

Everything.