Chapter Six

Seven hours.

It took a grand total of seven hours for everything to get sorted out and cool down. We had first arrived at the station around midnight and it was now almost seven in the morning, an hour until school started. It was safe to say that I was skipping school that Monday.

Axel got a fine for driving whilst having consumed too much alcohol and points on his license (which I highly doubted he'd pay any attention to). Though Parker was guilty of theft (Twinkies), destruction of property (swing set) and assault (an officer's bloody nose), the police didn't know about the first two. It was a miracle he was let out with only a strong warning to control his temper. The reason he was let off so lightly was because the officers were genuinely nice people and they'd realised what a terrible mistake they'd made. I reckoned they took pity on him, forgetting about his rash reaction and instead feeling guilty about blatantly accusing him of abuse without checking beforehand.

I'd shielded the majority of the truth from the police to protect Parker seeing as he had gotten himself into some serious trouble. I'd blamed myself for the supermarket scene, kept the swing set and Twinkies fiasco on the down low and then roughly (and very hurriedly) explained how I despised people touching me, that it could have been an easy mistake for a passer by to assume the worst.

So four hundred and twenty minutes was all it took for the officers to let all of us go, my mother to freak out completely and dissolve into a puddle of worried tears during the car ride home, to be strictly forbidden to ever see Parker Heywood or Axel Cambridge again, to be grounded for an eternity, to have my mother arrange more therapist sessions instead of going just once a week and to receive a call when she and I returned home, explaining how I had been fired from my Sunday job because my boss couldn't deal with "all of this fuss" in his store.

To say my mother was livid would be an understatement.

I dedicated all of my Monday to sleep and staying snuggled in a cocoon of blankets. When Tuesday came around I was ready to go and had just grabbed my keys when I received an excited call from Skylar.

"Is it true?" She had all but squealed.

"What?"

"Are you and Parker partners in crime or an item?" She had then went on to explain how numerous rumours had gone around school the Monday I was off. Someone had seen me getting into Axel's car with Parker and another had caught sight of me leaving a police car during the early hours of Monday morning. One story that had circulated around the student body said how Parker and I were doing drugs, another described how Parker and I were secretly a part of the mafia and were only posing as students. The last rumour Skylar had told me before I hung up on her was told in graphic detail about how Axel, Parker and I apparently had a threesome in the school's janitorial closet.

What relevance that had to a car or the police, I didn't know, but I didn't go in on Tuesday either. Mum put it down to stress and I was forced to spend half of my day with my therapist who continued insisting on exposure therapy. I sat in silence.

When Wednesday came around, I knew I had to make an appearance or the rumours would no doubt get worse. However, I was feeling sick and though I wasn't superstitious, I took it as an omen that I shouldn't attend that day either. Mum called in to say I was unwell before going off to work.

I was sitting on my sofa watching a cheesy romantic comedy to uplift my spirits when it happened.

The sound of a crash interrupted me mid-laugh which caused the hot chocolate in the mug I held to slosh over the rim in my surprise, scalding my hand. For a reason unknown to me, the first person that sprang to mind was Parker - most probably because he was about as subtle as a gun and it wouldn't be the first time he'd broken into my house. However, when I was showered with glass not even a second after the thought had crossed my mind, I quickly reconsidered. Yes, he'd break into my house. Break a window? That might have been pushing it.

I sat still for a few seconds, letting my brain digest the sudden twist to my non-eventful morning before I put my now half empty mug on the table and peeled myself from my blanket and sofa to investigate.

The window by my sofa had completely shattered, the floor beneath it littered with shards of glass and a rectangular object of some sort. It took my brain a while to piece together what had happened. My window had been smashed. It was a brick lying on my cream carpeted flooring. This had been done on purpose.

I got down on all fours, inspecting the uninvited guest who had made a rather grand - and very rude - entrance. There was a small piece of torn paper taped to the brick - a note.

"What the fuck happened here?" Came a voice from behind me.

I hurriedly sprang to my feet, surprised. When I saw that it was Parker standing by the doorway to my living room with furrowed brows, I tried to shield the scene behind me with my body as my brain struggled to find an excuse. Both of my attempts were failing miserably. Not only was lying not my forte, but the fact that my body was a little on the small side did little to conceal my smashed bay window.

"I- my cat. I was... feeding it. Why are you here? Get the heck out! Who said you could come in?" I sputtered. He stared at me, knowing fine well I didn't have a cat.

In the few weeks I'd come to know him, I had learned that something like my window breaking would not only make Parker angry, but would also make him overreact. God knows why, but my misfortune seemed to get him all riled up. He became enraged at whatever caused it to happen to me.

"Why does your window have a huge hole in it? Let me guess, your cat tried to make a mad dash for freedom?" He had been gradually coming closer as he spoke but now he tried to side step himself around me. I automatically took a step back in my pathetic attempt to shield what had happened from him - and winced.

The sharp pain that shot through my foot was sore, not enough to cry, but enough to bring tears to my eyes. Parker unfortunately noticed.

"What's wrong?" His face had taken on that look of extreme concern. It had been the expression he wore when he'd seen my teary eyes after my therapist appointment and the one that had made a brief appearance at the police station. You'd think after the third time of seeing it that it wouldn't shock me. Alas, it did. Having Parker Heywood apparently concerned for my own wellbeing was an odd thing to come to terms with.

I blinked, gritting my teeth. "Note to self: shards of sharp glass and bare feet are not a great combination."

And that's why if someone had walked into my kitchen five minutes later they would have witnessed me sitting on top of the counter, feet dangling over the edge as Parker stood before me with a first aid box held in his grasp. He was rummaging around its contents in the hope to find something suitable to bandage up my foot with.

"Wash your foot in the sink." He commanded as he looked up, gesturing toward the sink next to me on the kitchen island I sat upon.

"I'm pretty sure that breaks all of the hygiene laws."

"Honey, I think you just made that up. Stick your foot in the sink and clean up the blood unless you want me to do it for you." He raised one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows in a look that told me he was being perfectly serious about touching my foot without my consent if I didn't hurry up with it. I sighed in defeat, grimacing when the force of the running tap water hit my cut.

It was an odd sight, Parker in the middle of my shiny chrome kitchen with his ripped jeans, dark shirt, tousled hair and dirty sneaker clad feet. Not to mention the fact he seemed to be channelling a motherly role. The only people I was used to seeing in my kitchen was my mum and her friends or Skylar when she came around. Certainly not this boy with his cocky smile.

"So are you going to tell me why the window in your living room is smashed now?" He asked after a few more minutes of searching through the first aid box. My eyes were still fixated on rinsing my foot as I opened my mouth to respond when Parker continued as if he'd read my thoughts. "And don't tell me it was your imaginary cat's fault because I'm not buying that."

I pursed my lips and glared at him. "If you must know, someone threw a brick at my window."

"What?" He growled. Before I could say anything more, he stormed back into the living room to no doubt inspect the scene of the crime. He returned a few minutes later with the brick in his hands, staring at it as if it were the most peculiar thing he'd ever seen. I turned off the kitchen tap and cursed when I caught sight of a shard of glass still embedded in my foot. The reason for the continuous throbbing I felt was now obvious. "Did you read this? Some fucker did it on purpose."

"No shit, Sherlock." I rolled my eyes. "I don't think many bricks accidentally propel themselves at house windows."

"So you read this?" He placed the brick on the countertop before thrusting the note to me, face like thunder.

Beloved Frigid Flora,

They say bad things come in threes, right? Slashed tires, broken window... I wonder what's next?

I stared at the scrawled handwriting figuring that perhaps the more I analysed it, the higher the chance I'd recognise the writer. The theory didn't work.

A part of me felt guilty for so easily blaming Parker for slashing my tires when it had been someone else entirely. Another part of me felt worried as to who this person was. However, I didn't handle worry very well. Sarcasm however...

"Cute," I remarked. "Looks like I've got myself another little hater."

"This is serious." Parker snatched the note from my hand and scowled at it.

"Sorry, you're right. I must alert the towns folk at once. A bully has infiltrated Oakton, light your pitchforks and make haste!" I deadpanned. He mumbled something unintelligible before crushing the note into a ball and hurling it at the wall. "I don't know why you're getting all frowny with me, it was probably one of your buddies anyway."

"No." He stated surely. He then began throwing the copious amounts of band-aids from the first aid box about the kitchen counter in a rather aggressive manner in search of a bandage. I tried to worry more about the fact this boy with his sudden mood changes was helping me with a cut rather than the fact he was seeing the floral printed band-aids I'd bought about two weeks ago because I thought they were pretty, not childish.

"How do you know?"

"I just do." His tone told me not to question him any further so I kept my mouth shut, watching as his angry scowl began to soften slightly as he found something he deemed suitable.

"You do know that it's illegal to just waltz into someone's house, right? How did you break and enter this time?"

"Back door," He replied absently, not caring in the slightest about his law breaking. He smirked slightly as he looked me up and down. "I forgot to compliment you on your hot pyjamas."

I was suddenly very aware of my rather frazzled looking appearance and lack of clothing. A tidal wave of embarrassment washed over me as I looked down at my pale blue boy shorts and matching tank top with its white cupcake print. It didn't exactly scream mature sixteen year old but then again, I think Parker had talked to me enough (and seen enough of my band-aids) to know that I didn't really qualify for one of those anyway. To top it off, with my bed head I probably resembled a cave woman wearing children's night attire.

"Well I wasn't expecting visitors so-"

"You're doing that cute blushy thing," He groaned as if in pain. Once he realised his slight slip up, he quickly cleared his throat as if to save the last scrap of his badass-detached-from-everything-because-I-don't-care-about-anyone-but-myself façade. "Stop it and let me see your foot."

I ignored the first half of his statement. "No."

"Honey, don't think I can't see the glass stuck in there. If you aren't getting it out then I'm going to have to do it myself."

I thought over my options. Waiting for mum to come home would take too long. The cut would be healing around the glass and my mum would freak out when she saw the window, never mind my foot. Doing it myself would probably end in a disaster of some sort. I really only had one option.

"You don't have some freaky foot fetish, do you?"

He paused, looking at me as if to check I was being serious. I didn't blame him. "No?"

"And you'll do it as quickly and with as little touching as possible?"

"I'll do my best."

"And you can't feel up my foot or ankle or whatever, okay?"

"No promises there," He replied with a chuckle. When he caught the look I sent him he quickly sobered up. "Right, fine. I promise I won't feel you up."

"Okay," I breathed out, gripping onto the edge of the counter until my knuckles turned an ashy white. "Just hurry up and do it."

True to his word (surprisingly), Parker worked with remarkable speed. His fingers deftly freed the shard and with minimal touching. I only felt a slight sting of pain and a little discomfort from the brushing of our skin. Within the space of about twenty seconds, I was glass-free with a bandage wrapped securely around my foot. I let out a breath that I wasn't aware I was holding.

"See," A satisfied smile tugged his lips up at the corners and his hazel eyes shone with what I could only describe as triumph. "Not so bad after all."

"That's debatable." I lied, hopping to the floor. The last thing I wanted was for him to get too eager.

"Oh come on," He huffed. "I was careful and you didn't mind. Just admit it."

"I'm not frickle frackling with you, you know." I told him as I plopped myself down on my sofa, staring pointedly at the film still playing. I put the blanket back over my lap, concealing my legs that had been on display for far longer than I wished they had been. Parker sat himself down next to me.

"Honey, I never asked you to have sex with me," He chuckled before hurriedly adding, "Though that offer stands if you want it of course."

"I don't understand what you're doing here. Why do you keep pestering me? Why don't you just go and annoy some other girl? I'm sure Stacy Jackson who lives down the street would be more than happy to satisfy your- your needs. I know what guys like you want and I can tell you right now I'm not like that in the slightest. Did you know I got fired from my job because of you? And that I'm failing math worse than I was before? I can't even go to the toilet without being paranoid you're waiting on me outside the fucking cubicle!"

It was at that very moment that I realised I was mad at Parker. In fact, I had quite a lot of pent up emotions locked inside of me that were suddenly trying to burst out and free themselves, but anger just so happened to be the most prominent and I was certainly furious at him. So much so, that I grabbed the cushion that lay next to me and began to repeatedly whack him across the head.

"You can't," Hit. "Just expect me," Hit. "To tolerate you," Hit, hit. "Lingering about my life like a bad smell," Hit. "Because you think that I'll eventually let you touch me." I gave him one last whack before he plucked the cushion from my grasp. I collapsed back into the sofa, glaring at him as he smirked at me.

"You think that's why I'm hanging around you?" He asked curiously, his hair looking a little messier than normal after my cushion tantrum but somehow still perfect.

"Is there another reason?"

"Well today it's to see where the fuck you've been. This is the third day you've been off and school is boring without you. I actually have to listen to teachers because I've sat next to you in almost every class."

"Oh the humanity," I clutched a hand to my heart dramatically. "Are you actually having to learn things instead of pissing me off? How hard that must be for you."

"Actually it is hard. Sucks the fun right out of everything," He paused. "Are you seriously paranoid about me coming into the girls bathrooms and waiting outside your cubicle?"

"That's what you picked up from what I said?" I exclaimed. He shrugged.

"Well you made me sound creepy."

"You are creepy!"

He frowned at that, biting the skin of his knuckle looking genuinely irritated. "I'm not creepy."

"Oh really?" An unfamiliar voice snorted from the left of us. "I beg to differ. Remember when you had a crush on Gwen back in freshman year? You wrote her creepy little love letters and shoved them into her locker everyday. Not to mention you're stalking this beautiful girl."

I hurriedly spun my body around, accidentally hitting my foot against the ground and wincing at the sudden shift in weight being put onto it. The blanket fell from my legs and Parker grasped my wrist as if to make sure I was alright. As always, I shook him off and elbowed him hard in the stomach. He groaned.

A boy with a thick head of chocolate brown hair stood slouched by the broken window, boot clad feet crushing shards of glass into the carpet as he dusted the invisible dirt from his jeans. He was undoubtedly one of the - if not the - most attractive guys I had ever set my sight upon. His grey-blue eyes flickered between Parker and I before settling on my legs with a lazy smile. Parker grumbled something, snatching the blanket from the ground and throwing it over my lap.

"What do you want, Topher?" Parker asked irritably.

The boy, Topher apparently, rolled his eyes and shoved his hands deep into his hoodie pockets. For a moment I could only marvel at how his hooded top both clung to his figure and made the colour of his eyes pop. However, reality hit me like a boulder and I realised that just as Parker tended to do, this boy had just let himself into my home uninvited. I snapped myself out of my daze and glared at him.

"How did you get in?" I demanded. "I swear to god if you're like Parker and think trespassing is acceptable-"

"You're quite rude," Topher sent me a megawatt smile. I noticed there was a tiny chip to one of his front teeth, a barely noticeable imperfection. Somehow it only seemed to make him more perfect and quite frankly, it irritated the hell out of me. He was like Parker. "I like it. Axel told me you had a mouth on you but I didn't expect this. I had to come see for myself after what he said about you and I am certainly not disappointed."

"I'm not allowed to welcome my intruder without manners? I'm sorry, I was unaware of that. Let me start again," I cleared my throat before putting on my best posh voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He laughed whereas Parker groaned and repeated his question, this time in a tone that was a little more snappish, "What do you want? And what the fuck has Axel been saying about her?"