chapter eighteen.

70 2 3
                                        

"Let's hear it

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

"Let's hear it." I spoke, getting some new set of clothes.

Alsace sat on the bed. "Well, since we're already pretending. Why not do more."

"What does that mean?" I said.

"Kiss more, hold more, I don't fucking know. You're the detective." he frowned.

"You suggested it! Of course I'm going to ask you what it means!" I strolled up to him, arms crossed. He looked up to my height. He sat down, which made him a little shorter than me.

"I already told you: kiss more, hold more." 

I raised a brow, both of my hands mid-air. What the fuck did he mean by kiss more, hold more. When he understood that I wasn't following, he stood up. 

"We should be, I don't know, touchy with each other?" he said.

"Please, for the love of God. Elaborate." I said, groaning. He wasn't making any sense, and I wasn't up on figuring out his own fucking idea when he should already know. 

He gave me an exasperated sigh, rubbing his face with his hands. Then, he stood up, face to face with me. His eyes greeted mine with annoyance.

Then, his lips touched mine.

Just for a quick hot minute.

I stumbled back.

"What the fuck was that for?!" I asked, covering my mouth.

"That's what I'm trying to say, Alisha!" he said.

Words formed inside my brain, but none came out of my mouth. I stuttered my way through, not understanding a word that came out of my fucking mouth. My heart hammered inside my chest like a running horse. I tried, for the life of me, to calm it down.

"If we want them to believe this little scheme, then we have to try harder, do we?" he asked, raising a brow. "You won't let me kiss you in public, honey. What happened to me being your boyfriend?" 

He was still the fake boyfriend, just minus the hand touching, kissing, and whatever the fuck couples do.

I shrugged. "They know we're dating," 

He groaned loudly. "But they don't see it! Have you never tried doing PDA with your past partners?" 

Now, it was my turn to raise a brow.

What the fuck was a PDA? Honestly, who has the time to even try finding out what the fuck that meant? For all I know, that's just some bullshit people made. 

Alsace looked straight at me, his eyes clouded with disbelief. "Good God, don't tell me you've never been with someone." 

Another shrug coming from me. "What's a PDA, if I may ask." 

His disapproval look has gotten my palms to sweat, and my mouth to dry. What the fuck was so important about this PDA thing, anyways?

"Really? You have no fucking idea what it is? You, a detective, has no fucking clue what PDA means?"

AVOIDING HIM. ongoing.Where stories live. Discover now