Tell Me You Love Me: A Stand-alone | Young Adult MM Romance

Chapter 1

• Photo above is how I picture Kai •

A/N: So, I'm going to be changing the name for my character "Ashly" due to unforeseen circumstances and I don't want to be associated with that name, so please comment below and help me pick a new name for her. She's bright (as in her personality, she's not that smart) and bubbly and needs a name to fit her.

THANK YOU. Now enjoy the chapter. :P

Chapter 1

[Kai Peterson's POV:]

The sounds coming from my bathroom currently are noises that no other human should have to endure. My best friend, Ash, was officially blowing up my toilet after deciding that it was a good idea to order six of the Chicken Quesadilla's from Taco Bell, or should I refer it as Taco Hell.

"Ash, that's gross!" I yell from on my bed. I was trying to concentrate on the sexy that is indeed Ryan Reynolds in his new movie, The Adam Project, but I almost felt the need to grab my cell phone and dial 9-1-1 for my best friend.

Imagine someone pooping into a squirt gun and sloshing it onto everything, along with the smell radiating from under my bathroom door, to go with it. That was what it was like.

She was torturing me. But I loved her, anyway.

"Do you have a problem with the chocolate river, Kai?!" I hear her say from the other side of the door.

I shiver, grossed out, "that is by far the most disgusting thing you've ever said," I reply, rolling over on my bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to block out the sounds of my toilet being butchered.

I turned over on my side as a sudden realization hit me like a ton of bricks, "you better not expect me to plunge that shit either!"

A few minutes later, my bathroom door opens as my best friend walks the walk-of-shame into my bedroom. "No, no," I say, getting up off the bed, "you better close that door behind you and you better have sprayed something!" I say with a grimace on my face.

Pulling my shirt over my nose to try and block-out the smell of my best friends dirty ass, I make my way into the Danger Zone, now known as my bathroom, or what happens to be left of it.

I don't even dare look at my poor toilet, so instead I pop open the medicine cabinet and grab a can of Lysol and start spraying it everywhere. Apparently, I spray too much, because my eyes begin to burn from the amount of Bleach circulating in the small area.

I put the spray can away and make my way back into my bedroom, where my best friend is occupying my bed, flipping through Netflix as if she just didn't create a nuclear bomb in my childhood home.

"What?" She looks at me, nonchalantly, her dark brown curls resting on my pillow as my eyebrows push in on each other. "Are you seriously sitting there as if you just didn't just send me into a War Zone?" I ask, being my dramatic self, even though she could've actually killed me and was showing no remorse for basically Attempted Murder.

"Love you?" She replies, but it comes out more like a question, before she drops the remote and breaks out in a fit of laughter, twisting herself around on my bed, as if she knows she's guilty.

I climb on-top of her, pinning her down by her arms. I quickly see an open opportunity as her ribs are exposed. My hands drift down to her sides as she lets out a bloodcurdling scream as I begin my assault in her second most sensitive areas.