Love and Other Chemistry ♡ Trevor Zegras

18 | Milly

Part Eighteen:
A Little Love Bite

All I can say is: thank God for scarfs.

It's currently eight in the morning on Monday and the four bruises that littered the surface of my neck have yet to die down. I thought, for sure, by this morning that they would be cleared up and last weeks news, but as it turns out--my luck is beyond terrible.

I grimaced at the sight of my skin in the bathroom mirror, my lips pursed into a thin line as I thought of all the ways I could hide these at school without rummaging through my mothers makeup. Since the beginning of time, Id never felt the need to wear makeup. I'd been blessed with nice skin, thank you mother, and so, I never really got around to buying it. But now, Monday morning as I stare at the harsh hues of purple on my neck, I was starting to regret that decision.

I couldn't help but want to put the entirety of the blame onto Trevor. He had been the one to gift me with four very painfully obvious hickeys in the first place.

Wait, no, sorry.

My mistake.

Love bites. He had insisted on Saturday morning during our study session--which quickly turned into an excuse to binge cartoons--that I call them love bites.

By Saturday afternoon, around lunch time when I was just about to re-wrap the scarf around my neck and head back across the drive way, Trevor had taken it upon himself to make sure that said love bites didn't go away. He pulled me in towards him by my waist before pressing me once again to the wall, only this time, it was his bedroom wall. A much more intimate setting to resume our . . . well, whatever it was that happened in the change room at the mall. He didn't say a word, not a single thing as he used his fingertips to guide my chin to the left, his lips pressing gently to the same sensitive spots he'd created the day before.

Then, with a blissful sigh that Trevor must have taken as permission, he dug his teeth in and pulled amazingly on my tender skin with his lips. I'd almost moaned loud enough to alert his parents downstairs, but he clamped a hand over my mouth, chuckling gently as his breath left goose bumps over the area he'd attacked.

I shook the thought from my memory, not wanting to go through googling more porn that Trevor had introduced me to. I didn't want to admit it, but I had woken up on Sunday morning with the urge to literally jump his bones--and after an entire hour of sweating profusely and shaking at the thought of him, the only cure seemed to be doing something myself, which I'd actively been avoiding since the beginning of puberty in fear of being caught by my mother.

Needless to say, I was not caught, and I'd sighed Trevor's name several times that day.

A loud knock to the other side of the bathroom door pulled me from my daydreams. I scrambled to wrap the thick, baby pink scarf around my neck before gathering my phone from the counter and yanking the door open with a much-too-enthusiastic grin.

My mother wasn't having a bar of it.

"What are you up to?" she squinted, her tone showing definite signs of suspicion.

My eyes widened slightly as I leaned against the doorframe, my left arm holding me up while my right landed on my hip. "Pshh, nothing."

"Right," she drawled, before plastering a sickly sweet smirk on her lips. Oh no. "Trevor's here."

"Oh!" I grinned, chuckling as awkward as humanly possible. "Great!"