Twenty-One

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Two weeks

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Two weeks.

Kaycee Rice had gone through hell and back since she was a child - abused by her father, abandoned repeatedly by her mother and became a parent to her younger brothers while juggling four jobs and school. And yet, for the life of her, she couldn't explain why the absence of a certain, brown-eyed, dimpled guy left a hollow inside of her.

She rarely (mostly, doesn't) lets people through her walls and see what's inside. Ken was an exception, his quiet presence a comfort because he doesn't push her to talk about anything and dig everything she buried. Then came Bailey, Taylor, and Josh whom she never expected to grow fond of. The thrill of running away, solving a mystery together and their emotional heart-to-hearts created and deepened a bond she never dreamed of having.

Then there's Sean.

She frequently wondered how they came from being in each other's throats to whatever they are right now. She wondered high and low of what Sean saw in her; if everything he told her were true, and if he is indeed genuine with his so-called feelings for her. Because she knew, no one in their sane mind would fall in love with her.

They say that you have to love yourself first before you could love others; Kaycee could only agree to that to a certain degree. Yes, she has lots of insecurities, has incredibly low self-esteen, and thought herself unlovable, but she knew that when she loves, she loves much. So she is done fighting, wrestling and lying to herself that she's not falling for him, because the more she denied it, the more it became real. And the last two weeks were a testament to that.

She was utterly helpless, restless and distracted for the past two weeks, occupying herself with school work and her jobs to avoid thinking of him. But thoughts constantly flooded the back of her mind. Is he eating well? Was he punished for that Sunday night when he escaped the house? Is he safe? Is he still coming back? Will she ever see him again?

Is he thinking of her the way she does? Because the more she tried to not think of him, the more she pictured his eyes. The more she relived the tingles she felt when she had his lips on hers, the warmth of his hug, his annoying retorts and the way he cared.

Fuck, he really cared about her. He said he likes her even though she still couldn't find the courage to say anything back. She feared she may never say it to him, but now she has a chance.

And so here she is staring at him from a distance, breaths labored from her sprint and from the way her anxiety is eating her. She took in his tall, lean, figure (he even had a haircut) and watched how his brows furrowed as he talked to the girl. She couldn't hear what they are talking about, but it seemed serious with the way he held her arm. It is like he is pleading to her - arguing with her.

He found someone else he could argue with. Her stomach dropped as insecurities swarmed her thoughts, her fears resurfacing.

But is she going to let those insecurities cloud her mind when all she wants to do is run in his arms? No. And so reluctantly, she approached them, waiting for him to take notice of her presence.

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