Page 13 of Ride or Die
“Hey kids,” she calls out as she eyes up Colton seductively. Her expression makes me feel sick. I don't like the way she's looking at him. Especially since she’s straddling another guy.
“Hey Simone,” we both say and avert our eyes.
Simone is interesting, to say the least. She is the complete opposite of me. Sometimes I wonder if we have different parents.
“We’re just going up to study,” I explain as I pass the living room with Colton on my heels.
“Sure you are,” she teases.
I ignore her and head to the stairs. I walk ahead of Colton on the way up, and I swear I hear a little groan escape him as he watches me climb, my ass directly in his face.
He’s probably disgusted.
“Wear protection!” she yells after us, a hint of jealousy in her tone.
“Take your own advice!” I yell back.
Once we reach the upper floor, we walk down the hallway to my bedroom and I close the door behind us, locking it so Simone doesn’t burst in. I scurry around to pick up my clothes off the floor and make space for him at the desk. He sits down in my desk chair, and I take a spot on the bed.
“So, which subject do you want to review?” I ask.
"Uh, let’s go over accounting. It’s the most information heavy,” he suggests.
We spend the next hour going over our notes and setting up a plan of attack based on the outline to help with the course load. We have some fun and good laughs coming up with acronyms for some of the terminology.
Yes, these things are fun to people who like studying.
Our focus moves from our studies to discussing other things like old friends. Surprisingly, Colt and I have a lot in common. Absent parents for one, and we each worked hard for our grades.We both love to cook, read, and do photography. We also love playing video games, sadly I don’t have a console anymore, but he invited me over to play, which brought back those butterflies in my stomach back with a vengeance.
I bite my lip, trying to contain my excitement. I can’t believe I am so at ease with the bad boy.
As the evening progresses, we move closer and closer to one another, getting more comfortable, feeling a true friendship beginning. Even though we haven't been directly in each other's lives, there's a history here that's making it easier to connect, I think.
Sitting on my bed together, we talk about some of the stupid shit that happened at school back in the day. He's currently laughing about our grade nine math teacher, recalling when she was upset at a student who kept getting alerts to his phone throughout the class and wouldn’t turn it off. In her attempt to storm over to him, she slipped on the floor and sent her coffee splattering all over the place. The poor woman never lived it down.
“Hilarious for you! I was in the front row and got coffee all over me!” I slap his arm as he's laughing. I can't help but giggle, though. His laugh is so damn endearing, it’s doing things to me.
He chokes some air into his lungs through his laughs as he starts to calm down. “I know, I’m sorry. That part wasn't funny, just her slipping and the expression on her face. I do remember you being so upset that your notes and white shirt were ruined.”
I look at him with surprise. “You remember that?”
“Yeah, you squealed and yelled ‘my shirt!’ before storming off to the bathroom. When you got back, I could tell you had been crying. Your shirt was stained and wet from trying to clean it. I remember wanting to give you my gym shirt, but it was smelly, so I couldn’t.”
His eyes widen when he realizes what he just told me. I’m shocked that he remembers that incident with so much detail. I didn't think people noticed me.
He clears his throat, focusing back on the books in front of us. “So, can you explain the math for depreciation?” he asks as he looks back up at me.
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
I go on to explain the accounting he’s been having trouble understanding. Or at least that he claims to not understand. He listens intently, seeming to grasp the concept.
“Thank you. That makes way more sense than Professor Robertson’s explanation. You’re brilliant, you know that?” His eyes soften as he smiles down at me, making me blush. “Andso incredibly beautifulas well.” He tucks some hair behind my ear, his eyes flitting between mine as his hand lingers, cupping my cheek.
My breath catches in my throat and I stand up immediately. It’s a nervous reflex, my body’s way of creating space between us because of how he’s making me feel. The sexual tension is thick, and I’m totally uncomfortable with the contact, knowing I’d be just another notch on his bedpost.
It’s Colton Hawthorne, for God sakes. I’m probably just some girl he has on some list titled ‘Bitches To Fuck’.
“You want something to drink?” I ask, ignoring the comment and intimate touch.
