10 Things: A Cody Simpson Fan Fiction

Fifteen

Cody:

          Needless to say, it’s been two days, four hours, thirty-one minutes and fifty seconds since Merinda and I had last spoken. You must be wondering why I’m insane enough, or strange enough to count the period, but it’s only because it was killing me.

          I don’t know if it was killing her just as much as it was to me, but one thing I know is that not being able to hear her voice speaking to me was hurting me very badly.

          I don’t know why I even stopped talking to her in the first place. Truth is, sometimes I can be dumb, and caught up in the moment in the most negative way possible, and I’m irrational, as surreal as it may seem. Sometimes I don’t think before I speak, which would be one of the incoherent traits about me, too.

          I hate it when I become impulsive.

          Especially towards my girlfriend―that’s just unacceptable. I can’t not do anything about my pathetic behavior. I can’t take it anymore, I have to apologize to her and bring her for dinner. And then to what I’d planned for the both of us weeks ago, right here, in the city of love. I’d planned to bring us to (actually her more, because which girl doesn’t like) the Eiffel tower because I’d arranged for like, half of it to be shut down so the both of us could dine there.

          I know she would love it just as much as I already do.

          Running my fingers through my hair, I allowed a small smile to slip onto my face at my thoughts, before dropping it when Merinda’s face appeared in my head. It isn’t that I didn’t want to smile anymore―it’s because I couldn’t. The guilt would always come back and bite my ass whenever I think of her.

          Damn, I miss her smiling at me. I miss her laughing because of me. I miss her looking at me. Ugh, I just―I miss holding her close to me.

          Who knew guys could have such girly moments, too? Not me, that’s for sure. Nothing can make me feel like what Merinda does, not even all of my previous girlfriends. Yeah, it’s just the kind of effect―only one of many others―that she has on me, without knowing so.

          I don’t know what’s bothering her, though. Each time I would try to reason out with her, she would change the subject; when I would try to talk to her in the nicest way possible, she would push me away; times when I just want to know what’s on her mind, what she’s facing, what’s going on, she’d avoid them skillfully and quickly, and I would always try to play along, as though her distractions were working, just so I wouldn’t flip out.

          I’m sorry if not speaking to her because of this reason is invalid, because as a boyfriend, I truly feel like I have the right to know. If my girl’s hurting, obviously I would want to know, right? Hell, I would need to know just what exactly is going on.

          I gave her everything I had, and all she did was push me away. Trust me when I say I had times where I just wanted to give up on her because of how stubborn she is, but that’s pretty much what makes her special, I guess. She’s intoxicating, bright, prominent―and not to mention strong-minded. She’s a challenge to me, because if you didn’t already know, I’m exactly the same way.

          I’ve tried possibly everything that works on me on her, but so far, it’s to no avail. It’s a disappointment, though, that she doesn’t want to tell me things. Why? That’s the question that has been glued on my mind ever since my first encounter with her.

          When?

          When I wanted to know what’s up with her at the beach. Ever since then, I was already aware of an unknown problem that was disturbing her. She didn’t want to let me know. Month after month, I would still attempt occasionally, but still nothing. To be frank, I’m really growing sick. I’m sick of her hiding me in the dark―is it that big of a deal, you may ask. Well, here’s what I’ll let you know: Yes. It is.