Love is a Fight

Chapter 39

~ ryder ~

Nothing could ruin my mood. I was sure of it.

I laid in my bed, still on a high from going on that date with Grayson. Was it a date? Did he consider it a date?

I can't believe I actually told Nick that I liked Grayson. I actually fucking admitted it. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to go through my Senior year fighting people and cursing them off, not having a stupid crush on a stupid boy.

There's so much more to Grayson than what meets the surface. Initially, I saw him as a motorcycle riding dumbass who loves pissing people off. Though I still think that description fits him, I now see a different side of him.

He's sweet, though I would never admit that to him. The way he cares about Veronica like sister, Nick like a brother, me like a — anyway. Sure, he can be a a gigantic dickhead but I know he genuinely cares.

He hides from people just like I do. His home life is something he doesn't share with anyone so the fact that he's told me about it, and shown me, means a lot.

I picked up my phone to look at our latest text thread. I smiled at the messages but pouted slightly at the lack of response. Maybe he's sleeping. Or maybe he's having second thoughts? What if he heard me tell Nick that I like him and now he's freaked out?

Before I could overthink any longer my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door. Though I was in my room the loud slam of it resonated throughout the entire house.

My dad was home.

Do I get up and greet him or do I keep myself locked away in my room where I know I'm safe? Is he drunk or sober? Is he a changed man or is he ready to beat me once again?

Heavy footsteps were heard as they got louder and louder signaling he was coming towards my room. As I sat up in bed, with my back now resting against the headboard, I tensed slightly.

The door swung open and in front of me stood blood shot eyes, a stumbling stature and bloodied hands holding a bottle of whiskey.

He was drunk.

With a clenched jaw I looked at him with disgust, "I thought you were getting sober?"

"Who the fuck said I'm drunk?" he gripped onto the door frame for stability. "I only had one beer."

My eyes flickered down the whiskey bottle in his hand as I scoffed.

"Right."

"Give me fucking attitude again and see what happens" he pointed a finger towards me.

I felt my eyes well up with tears.

Not out of sadness. But out of anger towards the man standing in front of me, out of fatigue of dealing with this all the fucking time, out of fear of feeling like I deserved all this.

"Fuck. You." I spat.

The bottle hit my head before I could really process what was going on.

I instantly fell to the side of my bed but he was quick to lift me back up by my shirt.

"You got anything else to say?" he growled in my face.

"Bitch." I was met with a hard punch to the face. The force sent me to the ground and I felt blood start to fill my mouth. My hand reached up to cup my face as I blinked up at the pathetic excuse of a father standing above me.

"You told me you were going to get sober" I shook my head almost in disbelief. "You fucking liar."

He stumbled slightly but regained his footing as he bent down sneer in my face.