7 | I'm going to wait

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7 | I'm going to wait

you want to be with me too

you want to be with me too

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I can hardly sleep. The couch is more uncomfortable than ever and I'm worrying about Axel, where he is, and what he's doing. It's been at least an hour since he stormed out of the house and left in his car. I don't know if I should tell someone, but I really don't want to, because then they'll know how mean I am. And I might tell them Dylan and I broke up. I'm not ready for that yet either. 

I climb the stairs and go to Mom's room, and since Dad only gets back tomorrow morning, she lets me crawl into bed and sleep with her. She's gone to work when I awake, and when I get out of bed and tiptoe to my room, I see that no one has stayed in it all night. 

I curse to myself and check downstairs. I look out the window, and Axel's car is still gone. 

I'll tell Will if he's not back in an hour or two, or, knowing me because I worry to much, once I finish my morning tea. 

It's only brewing when I hear a car pull into the driveway. I don't check to see who it is. Dad could be getting home now too. 

I take a seat at the island, smoothing down my straightened hair, pretending I don't care who's coming and going, and start reading my book. I get a little aggravated when no one comes in, because I swear I hear a car stop outside, and I almost go to check just before I finally hear the door. 

I gulp and sip at my tea. 

"Oh, hey," a voice says, and I glance up to see Axel back up to the kitchen entrance. "You been sitting there all night?" he teases, his face bright and happy, not like last night. 

I scoff, "of course not," but he can notice the worry in my voice. 

He sighs, and when he scratches the back of his head, his shirt rides up his stomach and I don't stop myself from looking. He doesn't notice thankfully, or if he does, he doesn't show it. He just enters the kitchen and leans on the end of the island beside me, glancing down at my book. 

"What're you reading?" he asks, flipping over the book, his fingers nudging mine. 

I pretend his touch, especially a touch so small, doesn't affect me, and turn to the front cover. "It's called 'The Nightingale'," I say, my voice groggy, and laugh hoarsely, "It's my third time reading it. I like it a lot. It's an historical fiction." 

Axel nods. "Cool," he smiles, glancing up at me. He grins wider, amusement behind his eyes, "remember when I stole, what was it, 'All The Light We Cannot See'?" 

I gasp. "So you admit you did steal it!"

He groans. "Borrowed it!" 

I laugh. "I was pretty unsuccessful at getting it back too." 

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