The Bad Boy of Mine

Chapter 25 ll Either it can chisel granite, or cut off my limbs.

Zoey's POV

I munch on the brownies happily as I scribble down the last sentence to my essay.

The essay I've been working my butt off for, is finally done. It's a research paper that requires us to find out more about the different, contemporary Sociological Theories.

I love writing. Even though I prefer writing narratives over research and exposition papers, I do enjoy writing the latter to a certain extent.

I love the sense of achievement and happiness whenever I can apply a new writing technique or some new phrases into my own essays. It makes me extremely proud of myself and my work. And I guess my ardor for reading amd writing kind of just stemmed from there.

Also, I find myself feeling very comfortable whenever I write. The process of thinking about which words to be put together to create a more stirring, impactive story, makes me feel cognitive, introspective even. And that feeling is like another dimension, that makes you think of abstracts, instead of the often morally bankrupted cosmos.

I am extremely happy with this particular research that I have done. I chose to focus and elaborate more on Phenomenological Sociology instead of Feminism and Dramaturgy that most people in my class have chose to work on. I guess the topic of social relations interest me more.

I stretch out my stiff limbs, begging for them to wake up from their sleeping state. I strut lazily to my refrigerator for my fruit juice.

My mind drifts. It has been two days since the date with Chris and I haven't seen him anywhere yet. My body instantly wakes from its tiredness. Oh did something happened again? The last time he went missing for quite a while, Emma was in the hospital.

A soft smile reaches my face. I miss Emma. She's too adorable, just like her brother.

With a glass of beetroot juice in my hand, I make my way to my bed to call on Chris. As I dial his number, I peek through the window.

The lights in his room are out. Wait, actually, all the lights are out. Shit, did something really happened?

The moon glimmers innocently in the sky while darkness surrounds his house. A chill runs down my back.

"Martinez. Just leave your message. I'll deal with it later."

Once again, I'm greeted by his deep voice through his voicemail. Deciding that it will be just a waste of time after all to continue to try calling him, I resort to texting him. At least I can get a message across to him.

*Chris? Did something happen? Are you okay?*

Then I wait. 15 minutes. Then 30 minutes. Then, on the 57th minute mark, my phone buzzes.

*Fuck off. Stop calling.*

Ouch?

-

I can't sleep.

Chris' dashing face keeps on popping into my mind.

I must say, the text that he sent was pretty hurtful, especially after the damn fabulous date that we went on. If it was during the first few days that we met that I texted him, it's understandable if he replied me this way, but no, it's been almost half a year since we knew each other. Does that mean something? Is he trying to tell me something?

Or maybe the person that sent that message wasn't him! Maybe he's being kidnapped. Maybe he dropped his phone and someone else is using it. There's many possibilities to the text, I shouldn't jump to conclusions.

-

I wake up the next day, almost late for school. I was too restless to concentrate in lessons. The more I have Chris and his text message appearing on my mind, the more I find the text message out of Chris' character. He wouldn't be that mean. This makes my curiosity pique.