"Are you a stalker or something?" I ask, looking up at him.
"Tyson was my Godfather," he replied simply. "He taught me how to handle the ladies."
For some reason, I laughed. "He didn't teach you well, did he?"
"Well, maybe it doesn't look like it, but you just said you loved me," he shrugged, sitting beside me. At that, I had no reply. He caught me red-handed and I couldn't do or say anything about it. "And you aren't defending yourself."
"You caught me," I said quietly. "When I was confessing to my parents who probably can't hear me." He sits beside me and stares at the scar on my collarbone. I wanted to pretend I didn't see him staring at it, but I decided to speak. "That was when I was sixteen." I took a breath in and looked over at him. "I thought of suicide because
