Cigarettes, Rebels And Me, #1 ✔

Chapter 10 [Colton's POV] - Insomniac

.Chapter 10 [Colton's POV] - Insomniac.

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Colton's POV

My breaths come out in short pants as I exhale, and I try to breathe in deeper, but it feels like my chest is aflame with that teensy little effort. With a thin coat of sweat on my forehead, I constantly keep turning in bed, restless and fidgety like almost every other night.

My doctor has given me a chart which tells how insomniacs should think positively and how negative thinking affects you and all that shit, but I hardly follow it.

But you can't blame me.

Having improper sleep at night is probably the worst thing one would want to face, finding it fucking hard to even breathe sometimes while sleeping...

I fucking hate insomnia from the bottom of my heart.

I throw the covers off me and saunter down to the kitchen to get a glass of water to ease my parched throat. As I pass my brother's room, I can't help but subtly extend my middle finger to the door, and at that exact moment, it opens quickly, and a girl walks out, hair slightly messy and wearing nothing but Ethan's t-shirt.

"Wow," she says, unimpressed, as she glances at the still raised finger, and kisses it slightly, coming closer to me, a seductive smile on her lips.

"Macy, I've told you so many times, I don't have time to do this," I hiss, pushing her away as she kisses me directly on the lips without warning.

"But why?" she complains, and drags her finger down my bare chest. "I could do so much better than your brother. He's an ass."

"Yes he is, I can't deny that," I smirk slightly, and as she gives me a coy grin, I slip away from there and into the kitchen.

Macy is the definition of desperate, but I don't care how hot she is or how her ass moves while she walked. I care about the personality.

And people may find it totally uncharacteristic, because I'm a 'bad boy', but that's bullshit.

If I wasn't so sidelined by my family, I never would have resorted to these ways of seeking attention: vandalising, drinking, smoking and acting so reckless.

As I fill a glass with water, I hear footsteps from behind me, and I sigh. I'm in no mood to talk to anyone, but I am left with no choice.

"Why are you playing me?" Macy's voice reprimands, and I grit my teeth, rubbing my temple.

"I did not play you. You came on me that night, remember?" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air, and her eyes glint in guilt.

"I was drunk," she defends, and I scowl, the pain in my head increasing.

"So was I," I retort, and she sighs.

"Whatever it was, I know it wasn't a mistake, Colton. I know you don't regret it."

"Do you?" I question, and motion her to follow me to my room; and she obliges.

"Of course, not! I'm dying to have more of you."