I'm glad you guys are liking this book, but please could you recommend it to people? :) tysm and enjoyyy
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Two weeks pass of the usual activities: going to school, sitting on the roof. But every day I sit on the same bench on the same roof with the same book, always waiting for the same person to show.
But he never does.
Brad hasn't been around town for two weeks, straight, and for some reason, I'm slightly worried. I don't know why though, I don't even like him that much, it's just the way he looks at me makes me feel guilt if I didn't look at him the same way.
The next time I see him is at school and I'm unpacking my things into my locker. People scurry past and someone knocks past me, pushing me to bang against the cold metal. I swivel around and am about to get angry at whoever, when I notice who it is. Under a black hoodie is Brad. His face is covered by his curls, which don't look like they're in the best condition, but I can see how pale his skin is, how dark his eyes are. He squints when he sees me and turns to walk away, but I grab his arm and pull him back around.
"Where were you?" I ask, frowning at his sketchiness. He shrugs and puts his hands into his pocket, bending his back a little.
"Why would you care?" He shakes his shoulders a little and sniffs. Somehow it seems spiteful. I'm taken aback at his rudeness.
"Well sorry, I'm a good person." I say. Brad doesn't even give me another look as he hurries away, leaving me to feel like I've been punched in the stomach.
Knock.
Someone hits my window, jolting me awake. I slowly sit up, rubbing my head and squinting in the dark. Nobody is at the door or my window.
Knock.
Something hits my window again. I slip my legs off the bed and stumble over to my bay window. I place my hands on either side of the glass and then press my forehead against it to look down. I can't really see too well, so maybe who I'm imagining must be a mistake, my mind playing tricks. But whoever it is throwing rocks at my window, it's not Bradley Simpson.
I pull on the bottom of the frame and push it up, then lean out and look down.
Holy shit.
"Brad? I groan and hear a chuckle.
"You look hot." A sarcastic ass replies. Yeah, it's Brad.
"Well, what do you expect, you woke me up. It's like one in the morning, you dumb ass. What do you want?" I ask, rubbing my eyes.
"Are your parents in?" He shouts up. I squint at the plural usage of 'parent', then shake my head. "I'm coming up."
"No, you're not!" I say, but it's too late. Brad runs at the pipe that connects onto my house and hoists his feet to grip onto the wall. I jump back as he hops into my room, breathing heavily. "Get out!" I snap, making sure I'm not too loud as to wake my dad. Brad just stands there, smirks, and crosses his arms.
"Na," he says, cocky as usual. He seems better than when he was at school. He strolls around my room and past me, looking at my photos on my wall. "Don't you want to know how I found your house?"
"Not really."
"I'm going to tell you anyways." He spins and turns to me. "Your sister is very gullible and clingy. It's easy for me to convince her to do anything."
I shut my mouth, noticing I'm gaping. "So she told you my address?"
"Yep. Don't you wanna know why I'm here?" He asks smugly, that annoying ass smirk plastered onto his skin, like a permanent tattoo.
"Again, not really." I say, crossing my arms, but staying put. Brad takes a few steps forwards and pats my arm.
"You're coming with me."