Chapter 14

Someone faintly knocks on the door, which has me rolling over in my bed to look at my clock. It reads 8:32. AM. Who the hell thinks they have the right to wake me up at 8:32 on a weekend? The knock comes again, and instead of answering it, I groan loudly and chuck a pillow at the door. I hear the door click open and decide to pull the covers over my head and stay completely still, all tucked in and cozy, hoping they will go away. I hear the blinds spread open and I groan and shy away from the noise, knowing what's coming next: my covers. I roll around, trying to wrap the blankets around me like spaghetti to a fork. An airy snicker came from the intruder. I would drop kick them to Jupiter if I wasn't wearing just a sports bra and spandex. I was out of clean pajamas and I don't like wearing clothes to sleep, okay? Don't judge me. The ends of the sheets gently tug away from me. Not a chance.

"I swear, whoever you are, if you take my blankets, I take your life," I try to shoot daggers with my speech but I don't know if they cut through the comforter.

"You don't scare me, golden girl." Goddammit. I should have known it would be Adrian. Then, all at once, the cocoon I had made leaves me and I grab my pillow to shield my eyes from the light streaming through my window. Why do I always end up naked with him? The side of the bed sags with his newly added weight and the pillow is gingerly being tugged down.

"You thought wrong. You took my blankets, so you basically sold your soul to me. I own you. Now I command you to not take my fucking pillow, because if you do, I will strangle you with your small intestine." The tugging stops. Haha that one always works. At least I thought it had, until hands are around my midsection and I am flung over his shoulder. "You stupid whore! All I wanted to do was fucking sleep and you ruined it. You had one job, and you suck at it!" He gently sets me on the floor and I sag against the wall with a pout on my face and he sits next to me. I want to smack that look right off of his face. He looks as if this is the funniest thing in the world. "You asshole. I'm up, are you happy? Is your life long goal finally accomplished? You woke me up, would you like an award?" I can't even stop the forgiveness and playfulness leaking onto my face. And that's what bothers me the most.

"No award necessary. But I do have something in mind." He never breaks eye contact, even as he's moving in centimeter by centimeter. Nope. Nope nope nope I am not kissing him without brushing my teeth. I pull myself up on him until I am straddling him and I wrap my arms around his neck. He places his hands on the bare curve of my waist and I run my hands down his shirt so I can feel his abs underneath, and when I reach the hem, I grab a fist full of fabric at the top of his V-neck and yank him away from the wall so our foreheads are touching and we are staring into eachother's eyes, his chartreuse ones to my odd meadow green and gold. His eyes have that vulnerability in them again, the same that I have but do not show: he doesn't care what happens right now, he doesn't care about anything but what is about to happen. Or what he thinks is about to happen. I have him right where I want him. My hands go to the sides of his head, thumbs making tiny strokes along his jaw and I pull him closer, an inch.

"You wish." I smile devilishly and quickly get up and walk to the dresser to get some clothes before I go take a shower, leaving him dumbfounded. I walk back in a couple minutes and notice he's in the same position as before: slumped against a wall, jaw dropped to the floor. I crack up then and there, falling to the floor, dying of laughter.

"You think this is funny?" He asks, exasperated but amused. I just laugh harder for an answer. "You were never going to kiss me, were you?" There's a note in his tone that makes my laughter die down. I gather my clothes and walk towards the door. His eyes follow me the whole way, still waiting for my answer. I open the door but don't walk out.

I suck in a breath. "Once I get out of the shower, you can tell me why you woke me up. And, not this time." I give a shy smile and shut the door behind me.

"What was so important you had to wake me up?" Adrian and I stand square across from each other, arms folded.

"This was the only time I could get an opening in my aunt's schedule. I came here early only because I knew you would take a while to get up. And I was right, it's been 45 minutes since I came here. Why do girls take so long to get ready?" Oh hell no.

"Excuse me, I spent a good 15 minutes in here bantering with you. I only took 30 minutes in the shower AND getting ready AND putting makeup. You're lucky I didn't blow-dry my hair." His eyes glance over my hair and they widen.

"Wait, did you dye it?"

"No, why would you think that?"

"Then why is it so dark?"

"Holy shit, have you never seen blonde hair when it gets wet?" He shakes his head no. "It turns a few shades darker, but dries blonde. Have you been living under a rock or something? There are literally so many blondes here and in the media now that, like, I don't know what you're doing with your life." He just laughs. I can't help but smile.

"Cmon, lets go meet the queen." My smile fades and nerves replace it. Why should I be nervous?

Hello everyone! I am back. School has started, that's why I'm not updating too often. I happen to be taking all AP's/honors so I'm loaded with homework. And my birthday was the 26th so I didn't write then. However, I will try to be updating as soon as possible. Anyways, why is Reilly nervous? Could it be she wants to make a good impression on the queen, Adrian's most favored relative, hmmmmmm? Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review and follow and shtuff.

~Steph