Drake's P.O.V
I frowned. This is getting stupid, I thought. She was home at 8pm every night at the very latest. But hey, she thought I didn't know what was going on. I knew exactly why she had to so urgently go "home" that early.
I had been forced to watch Josh's crappy Oprah shows so many times, and I had watched one about how this girl had this dead nasty boyfriend who didn't like her being out too late becouse he was paranoid. He also he beat her up. Now I thought about it, Morrocia did have marks on her arm, and I had spotted a red mark on her usually pale cheek, under the layer of powder she had used to try and hide it.
But now I was sick of her games. She was so obviously playing for another guy. If this was an ordinary girl, I would not give a damn. I can just break up with her. Her loss.
But Morrocia was no ordinary girl. Not one little bit. She was different. She understood me. She didn't go out with me because she liked the way I looked or I'm a good kisser. I was her boyfriend because she liked me. She liked who I am underneath.
And the Truth, I had loved her much more than any other girl. She was beautiful. Funny. Lively. Understanding. Wonderful.
I was not going to let her go. I was going to catch her out. Tomorrow, when she comes over, I will follow her "home".
Watch out Morrocia, I thought, here I come.
