Little Miss Babysitter

-- 20 -- (Nate's P.O.V)

To go to my school.

God, I can't even get rid of her. No matter what I do, I can't. I can't get her out of my house, can't get her out of my business, away from my brothers...

Off my mind...

No. She will never come to know what I am. I don't want her to think that lowly of me, just yet. She's still got some innocence left in her, and I plan to keep it that way.

No matter what type of fucking painful jabs my chest knots into every time I think of me without her.

I don't like thinking about it. It's a weird topic, and personally, it gives me all these weird, sappy moments of movies in my mind. I don't know why, and I don't want to know why. Exploring my conscience-slash-feelings is not a good thing for guys, because most of the time, they don't know what they're feeling, nor do they know how to form words when it comes to such topics.

I happily fall under this stereotype.

I took a deep breath, and unlocked my phone, ready to feed her my bullshit.

Be @ ur house in 10. be ready angel. ;) read the screen in front of me. It seemed sufficient enough. Not that I should care. I pressed send anyway.

Minutes later, my phone buzzed in my hand, and I instantly flicked it on to see what she wrote back.

how do you know where i live?! did i ask you to pick me up?! um, no! just leave me alone!

I physically, cannot get enough of her. She's so funny, in the way that she runs herself.

To be quite honest, the girls that fawn over me and practically fall at my feet are good game. I'm not going to lie. They're the easiest to get with, and nine times out of ten, they let me feel them up on the first date.

But there's something different about the ones that give you a challenge. That make you want to fight for it, to taste to forbidden fruit. Ones like Ela.

I smiled while typing my comeback.

Woah! someone woke up on the rong side of the bed today. no worries. ill make it 15, then. just for you :*

I chuckled, sending her the text, and starting up my car. I pulled out of the grungy looking parking lot of Charlie's Repair Shop, and entered the intersection, stopping at the red light.

i hate you so so so so so so so much. do i really have to go? read my screen, making my mouth drop.

She.. She doesn't want to come.

Okay. I can deal with her hating me, some of the time, but this would be unacceptable.

First, she gave me her word. God knows I don't like bitches that go back on their word.

Second, I had this annoying feeling that we were going to lose if she wasn't watching. I needed her there, putting pressure on my shoulders to make me do good. If I knew she was watching, we were sure to win. I just knew it.

... You don't want to come? I replied, a frown making it's way on my face. I drove smoothly down the street, finding another jam packed red light, and groaning at my misfortune.

no. read her text, and I grunted at her stubborness.

She was a piece of work.

2 bad. see u in 15. I wrote back, eager to hear her response. I know she would be pissed, knowing I wasn't taking her feelings or whatnot into account.

Truth be told, that was the only thing I ever thought of. But, then again, I'll be damned if I ever admit that to her face. Who am I to tell that to some girl?