Living With Boys

Chapter Sixty-Six: I Lost My Nipples Walking Down The Driveway

Chapter Sixty-Six: "I Lost My Nipples Walking Down The Driveway."

I WOKE UP crying in the middle of the night.

Not because I had to leave, but because I had another night terror.

I didn't want to leave, but I knew I needed to and I needed a break from California no matter how bad I wanted to stay. I need time to recover from Taylor, recover from Landon, and recover in general.

Of course, I would have chosen a place where neither of them are, but I'm very limited on where I can go for the next seven months. After I return to California at the end of the school year, I'll be on probation for another year after that. As for Canada, I just need to remain out of trouble.

Though trouble isn't going to stop me from getting revenge on Annabelle and Stacy. Annabelle will be getting the same punishment when I'm in town, and though Stacy got her ass kicked, that's not going to stop me from getting payback on her as well. It will take a while to get my revenge on both parties, but it's guaranteed both will face consequences–especially since one left me with shitty vision.

I'm not playing games.

Yawning, I stretch out and glance down to see my bags packed and stored near my door. I frown.

I'm not going to be here for another half year, and I'm already missing it.

Shaking my head, I get out of bed, throw my hair in the messiest bun in existence, throw my glasses on, and get dressed. I throw on a black camisole with white sweats and a grey sweater. I'm exhausted from my zero hours of sleep last night, and I couldn't care less how I looked when I return. Honestly, I'm going to sleep the day away–even though I'll be back around six in the afternoon, it's not like I'm going straight back to school.

Making sure everything is turned off and not going to start a fire, after an hour I have everything of mine at the door and ready to go. Now all I have to do is wait for the cab I called not too long ago.

A knock on my door has me jumping up, grabbing my luggage and yanking it to the foyer. I furrow my eyebrows because most cabbies honk the horn, but ignore it because I really don't care. Plus, mine came early, which is surprising in this area.

My eyes widen.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in shock.

Taylor, out of breath, is stood at my door panting like a damn dog in the desert. He's in sweats and a muscle shirt, clearly woken up not too long ago or has just been out running. "I. . . I. . ." He breathe heavily.

"Breathe before you pass out." I tell him.

He takes a few moments to compose himself. "I came here to see you."

"Picked a bad time." I say in annoyance. "I'm on a schedule."

"I need to apologize." He frowns. "I shouldn't have flipped out on you at the diner, and I shouldn't have let you walk out. I let that happen once and–are you wearing glasses?" He questions in confusion, cutting his rant short.

I roll my eyes. "Yes."

"Why?" He frowns.

"I had chemicals blow up in my face. I'm partially sighted." I explain. "What were you saying?"

He stares at me for a while, especially my eyes because I've been frameless all my visit. "Why haven't I noticed before?"

"I wore my contacts."

More staring until he finally blinks and continues his rant. "Anyway, I let that happen once and I hated myself for it and I promise I won't let that happen again–I refuse."