The Good Boy Stopped Us From Falling Apart

Chapter 23- The Truth About Hayden

Flynn P.O.V:

      Oliver sat on my bed tapping his heel on the floor. "So, you're telling me that that 'figure' you've been seeing all day was that idiot, Hayden?"

I nodded, folding my arms. "I don't know what to do about it myself-"

"Maybe he's the one who's obsessed with you- We should go talk to him," Oliver stood up, his vein popping out of his temple.

"No," I stood in front of him. "You need to calm down-

"I just wanna talk to him." He walked past me.

I sighed and followed him.

He opened the door and we started walking down the hallway.

Oliver stared at his phone then he froze. "He's with Toby and the others. They're at the frat house."

"Alright," I shrugged. "Guess we can't go-"

"Where are your keys?"

"We're not going over there-"

"Why not?" He shouted at me.

I flinched then I furrowed my brows at him. I had never seen him so angry. He wasn't the fighting type. Not before December.

He looked at my hip then he stuffed his hand into my pocket.

I quickly pushed him off of me but he already had the keys. "What is wrong with you?"

He ignored me and started walking down the hallway.

I followed him beginning to realize who I had become. In highschool, I was the 'jock', the kid who teachers hated and girls liked and guys wanted to be. I wasn't hot. My face wasn't perfect. But I worked out and played sports and I had so much confidence that only Harley could withstand my charm.

But now...I had become any other kid. I had switched places with Oliver, becoming the boy vulnerable enough to think he was in love with his best friend; vulnerable enough to be pushed around by that friend who would've been to afraid to touch me last September. That was why Rachel could call me cute. Because I had become just that. I was skinny and quiet and a good listener. I didn't have my charm with girls, not that that was good, but I lacked confidence. I didn't see myself as worth something anymore.

I got into the car with Oliver afraid to tell him that we should turn back. I wanted to demand that we get out of the car but I was afraid he would push me like he had pushed me off of his bed. I was afraid that I would feel a numbing pain in my arms like I did when I had hit the floor. I was afraid of the marks that would come up on my arm if he had grabbed me again. The burning from the squeeze.

We drove to the frat house and Oliver parked the car.

He got out and walked over to my trunk. Then he popped it open and grabbed my bat.

That was when I decided to speak up. "Oliver," I grabbed the bat," this is a very bad idea. We should go-"

He looked at me. "Are you seriously going to tell me that you're okay with that English prick following us like he did?"

I furrowed my brows. "That was really disrespectful-"

"He called you a queer." He shook his head and yanked the bat out of my hand, hurting my wrist.

"Ouch," I hissed and held it in shock. The pain was excruciating. "Oliver, wait," I shouted, unable to move my wrist. I quickly ran after him.

We walked into the house and made out way into the kitchen where they all sat playing cards.