I'm not broken

Chapter 16

I was standing outside of the entrance leading into the airport, my suitcase right next to me, and my purse stuffed with my passport along with gum packets. I felt satisfied with my clothing choice, which was a white tank-top , a blue scarf, a navy blue cardigan, and orange leggings. I was wearing some brown ankle boots and my hair was up in a ponytail.

"Are you sure you have everything?" Ashton asked me, setting down my last suitcase next to me and wiping his brow. I nodded, and he glanced at my face.

"You sure? Passport? ID? Ticket? Tampons?" I nodded, then laughed at his face expression.

"I promise, I have everything. Thank you for driving me out here." he shrugged.

"You didn't really have a choice." I bit my lip.

When I had came home from the hospital, Ray was basically going hysterical, asking me if I felt fine, or if nothing hurt, or if I had to go to the bathroom, since I was in a wheelchair. And that very day Donald had came over and personally given me the ticket, and I basically flooded the whole place with my tears, and Ray had to go through another rage, and I fell asleep with my bra on, so it my boobs felt weird the next day.

The plane left in two days, so I had plenty of time to pack all my stuff and day-dream about what was about to come once I was in New York.

The next day I had ditched my wheelchair and gone over to see how Carter was doing, since he had suffered more injuries than me. His car had served in the last minute just when he was about to hit the wall, and half of the car hit a tree and the other half hit the edge of the car. Mine?

My car had folded up like an accordion.

I knocked on his door.

"Oh, hey, you must be Natalie!" Carter's sister asked, or, at least, I thought it was his sister, since they had the same electric blue eyes and blond hair, the same nose and high cheekbones. I smiled at her.

"Yeah. Is Carter here?" she nodded, then escorted me in. I noticed Carter's house was much more nicer than mine, with a big living room and an amazing kitchen.

Carter was sitting on the black leather couch watching a show, his blond hair messy and his face hotter than ever. I noticed he had a small scar near the bottom of his neck, but I looked straight at his blue eyes as I approached him.

"Hey." I said, and Carter looked up at my face. For a while, he didn't say anything as he stared at me, and I had a second of panic:

What if he hated me for beating him at the joust?

I stared right at him, careful not to make any sudden movements. Carters sister leaned in and whispered,

"He had some head trauma. He might not remember some stuff." I nodded, then sat down next to him. Carter's eyes were glued to my face.

"Hey Carter." I said gently, taking hold of his hand. His eyes flickered down at our hands and back to my face.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, so I wanted to say goodbye before I left." at this he clenched his incredible jaw and squeezed my hand.

"Don't leave me." he said, voice full of longing. I looked at my feet.

Did he not know I hated Brook, and that I was jumping on that plane as fast as I could?

I didn't mention any of this to him, only gave him a dry smile.

"Are you well enough for a movie?" I asked him. Carter's lips twitched with a smile. I looked up at Carter's sister.

"Uh, I think so. Just, don't do anything crazy, okay?" I laughed, because she reminded me of myself with Ray. Always looking of for him.

So I spent the rest of the day with Carter, watching a movie then walking around the mall, hand to hand and laughing together. Once it was 7:56, and I had dropped Carter off, but not before getting of the car and whispering in his ear,

"I had a good time today." and then I got on my tip-toes and kissed his cheek. He smiled at me, and I turned around to get back in my car when he took my arm and spun me around, then kissed me on the lips. I don't think I will ever remember feeling in love with Carter Bloom, but I do remember feeling something for him.

And that was worth something.

So I got back in my car and drove down the road, my lips still tingling at the memory of my first kiss.