Bad Boy Chemistry

39. Seventeen

Charlie's POV

My face tingled.

I caressed the point of impact as Ella put her hand on my shoulder. "Holy shit! Are you okay?" She asked.

I let out a slight chuckle. "I think so."

I'm not going to lie, it stung a lot. It was like getting smacked in the face by a massive rubber band.

"What the fuck, Ace?" Ella spat.

He had jogged to the foot of the bleachers, alongside Tom, Ryan and other members of the football team.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to kick it at you."

"Why did you even kick it at all?" Ella asked, deadpanned.

"I wanted to see how far I could kick it."

"Are you okay?" Ryan asked, climbing the bleachers to sit beside me, resting his hand on my arm.

I laughed. "I'm fine."

"Why are you laughing?" Ella snapped at me.

Honestly, I don't know why I was laughing.

"You might have a concussion, we should take you to the nurses office." Ryan suggested.

"Yeah, that's a good idea." Ella chimed in.

"I said I'm fine!" I snapped, standing up abruptly. "Stop treating me like a child!"

I was taken back my own outburst. "Sorry, I must be tired or something."

"I still think you should go to the nurses office." Ella said.

I've been hit in the face plenty of times, and this time was no different. I didn't need to go to the nurses office, all I needed was an ice pack, and maybe a painkiller, cause my head was aching like crazy.

I nodded my head and proceeded to walk down from the bleachers and towards the main building.

~

"Happy birthday!" Nora barged into my bedroom a few days later and woke me up an hour before my alarm was set to go off.

"Ugh!" I groaned, attempting to fall back to sleep.

"Wake up!" She nudged me.

"Go away! It's my birthday, let me sleep!"

"Mom's making birthday pancakes, so get your ass up!" Nora shoved me again.

I rolled my eyes awake. "I miss when you were at college."

"No you don't." She poked me.

Older siblings truly are irritating.

"Now get up!" She shook me before leaving the room.

I threw my blanket off of me and dragged my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet hit the ground as I sat up, rubbing my eyes awake.

"Happy birthday to me." I groaned silently.

I was slow to walk downstairs, the scent of freshly cooked pancakes entered my nostrils, getting stronger with every descent.

It was a Harrington family tradition, birthday pancakes. A smooth batch of all-purpose flour, baking powder, sugar, salt, milk, butter, eggs and chocolate chips.

To sweeten the deal, my mother always added sliced strawberries, a handful of blueberries and a drizzle of chocolate syrup, topped with whipped cream.

I entered the dining area to find my mother lighting the candles on my birthday pancakes.