New Girl ➼ (Nate Archibald) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 7 // "I love being cautious."

Chapter Seven: "I love being cautious."
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"You may be the new girl but your clean reputation ruins it."

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, when I came back home I had to finish writing an article for journalism and then fell asleep after. Now it was 3AM on a Saturday morning after Chuck's chilling voice woke me up from my slumber.

After school yesterday, the bastard warned me to keep my place in their mess and threatened to expose the past to both Serena and Nate–why? I don't know. He's an asshole.

My eyes started to tear up– I just wanted to start over and get away from who I was before, now there was a person who was using that for leverage.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I turned over in my bed to check on my phone; as usual, no text messages, but I brought the device up to my ear as I called a certain someone.

"Hey, didn't think you were awake."

"I didn't think you were either– what are you doing up?"

"I cant sleep," I confessed, "and we're not all that close, but it would help if you could stay on the line or do something to help me."

He sighed and shuffled around the room from what I could hear, "there's nothing else I was suppose to do so yeah I guess."

I laughed into the phone and brought my knees up into my chest to curl up into a small ball, "what were you doing anyways?"

"I was writing some of my book and–"

"A book!" I exclaimed into the phone mic, "you're writing a book?"

There was a slight laugh, "no– yes, I am. I'm not going to publish it though. It's still in the works."

"That's actually really amazing. An actual book that you'd want to print on paper?"

"An actual book, yes," he confirmed, "you're into writing too, aren't you?"

"Not writing my own book," I defended myself and stretched out my legs, "writing blog posts and short stories– unprofessional stuff."

"That could still be professional, if you work for a company or something."

"Or something," I mumbled, "anyways, Chuck came up to me today. Told me somebody about staying out of their business."

"Their? And who's their?"

"You and your friends," I rolled my eyes, "don't know what the hell he was even going on about."

"He's–" He paused for a few seconds, "–eccentric."

I laughed at his choice words, there wasn't much to go on about Chuck because I've only see his face from across the campus; our hour long conversation that made up of ranting about the poor and rich class, I finally felt myself sinking back to slumber at 5am.