Chapter Six

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Cracker was a name for a cliff on the outskirts of our small town of Haywood. 

It was usually deserted, owing to the fact that it was considered somewhat dangerous. Only people seeking adventure, thrill and trouble were the ones loitering around there. Which of course, made it a perfect destination for Ace. 

After classes got over, I deliberately stayed in the school building for fifteen extra minutes. Playing hard to get and hopefully making Ace think that I had better things to do. I slowly strolled over to the parking lot afterwards, my heart hammering and expecting him to be gone already. However, I sighed softly in relief when I saw his car parked in its usual spot and Ace sitting inside it, staring at something on his phone. 

A tiny surge of warmth spread in my chest which immediately made me feel ashamed. It was strange how I never really expected anyone to wait for me. I was terrified to make anyone wait for me, lest I was unworthy. It was fucked up when I thought about it considering I could wait forever when it came to Ace. 

I made my way over to him and silently slid into the passenger seat. He didn't say anything, slipping his phone into his pocket and starting the car instead. 

Silence prevailed for an awkwardly long period of time. The buildings disappeared as we moved further away from the heart of the town. Finally, I cleared my throat and spoke, "What happened? How come you were so late today?"

"That's none of your business," he answered shortly and unexpectedly, his jaw clenched. 

I stared at him, my heart breaking a little at his sudden demeanour. I knew Ace wasn't the most polite person on the earth and perhaps under usual circumstances, his bitter words wouldn't have hurt so much. But the way he talked to me reminded me of how he was laughing and smiling with the girl from before. 

"You c-can't talk to me like that," I said, clenching my fists and glaring at him. I hated when my nervous stutter returned any time there was an altercation or argument. Any violence or loud sounds would easily make me physically nauseous. I rarely ever got into arguments, considering how vulnerable and scared they would make me feel even though my ashamed self struggled to mask that fear. 

He didn't say anything, his eyes fixed straight ahead. 

"Archer," I said, "You can't talk to me like that." I enunciated each word for his benefit, and he scoffed finally. 

"I was just stating facts."

Maybe the reason why he was so different with me than with others was because he knew I would never leave. Was it my fault then? For caring for him way too much and being so fucking weak for it?

"Stop the car. I wanna get out," I said with as much firmness as I could muster. 

He remained quiet for a while before he answered in a low voice, "No."

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