Bad Boy Central, Good Girl Kennedy

Rule #9 - EDITED

"How was your day?" Eric asks.

"Fine," I mutter indifferently. He knows exactly how my day went seeing as how Blake sent him to walk me to each class because he was afraid I'd try to bail on them before the end of the day. Ditching them was not my original plan, but it sounded like a plausible idea when Eric told me.

Time passes in the den of Blake's house while we wait for the other two to come from whatever they're doing.

My eyes drift away and land on a glass case filled with trophies.

, NFL, FIFA, NASCAR...

NASCAR? This family is loaded.

The sound of a chair being pulled back breaks my thoughts. Eric stands up and moves closer to me. He sits down in a chair next to me and grabs my hands in his. His grey eyes pierce mine, and the usual gruff voice he possesses comes out smooth and assuring.  

"You know you don't have to be afraid of me?"

I'm not afraid; I just don't know how to speak to boys. You can tell by looking at me.

"Or any of us for that matter," he says, smiling at me. When I don't speak, he continues.

"I just want to help you, Cupcake." Cupcake. The word sounded foreign on his lips. Different than it should have sounded when Blake said it.

"Calm down, alright? Relax," he suggests.

"Sorry... It's just..."

He stays quiet, urging me to continue. Crimson floods my cheeks and I Unconsciously touch them, rubbing circles into my flesh. He doesn't break his gaze like I assumed he would;If anything he looks even more intently at me. I fiddle with the corners of my thick brimmed glasses, and push them up to the brim of My nose.

"I've never really held a conversation with a boy..." I rush. He stays silent for a while, making me embarrassed to have confessed to him. He rubs his face with his hands and kneads his temples. Finally, he looks at me and pulls my hands.

"Does that mean you've never kissed a guy before? I-I mean like, never. If you want, I could teach you."

Teach me what? How to kiss or how to talk to boys? God, Eric, you're killing me. I'll just go with kissing. One of the most attractive male specimens is inferring that he wants to be my first kiss. Cue sensory overload. I manage to nod, but not swallow. There's a boulder in my breathing passage.

He makes circles on my hands and smiles up at me. I tug my lips upward with my fingertips, ignoring the seizure my heart is having. A laugh echoes in his throat and rumbles down his chest. He stops, reads my face anf leans in towards me with lips puckered. What's wrong with his lips? Why are his eyes closed like that. Is he trying to kiss me? I just met him...Before he lands on my lips, I turn my head and he meets my cheek. He draws back with a confused look on his face. Then, he chuckles.

I watch his muscles flex through his thin black shirt and stare intently. I'd never touched a real muscle before. Not even my own, non-exsistent ones. Only my little brother Jackson's-- if you could even call those muscles.

"You can touch mine."

I said that out loud?

"Yeah Cupcake." He lifts his shirt off his head, and beckons me closer. When I hesitate, his warm hands encase mine and lift them to his stomach. He releases them, allowing me to feel the hardened, abdominals. His skin is smooth beneath my shaky fingers. I trace the lines carved into his belly, like a game. And scoop down to his innie belly button poking it quickly.

He moans. Long and drawn out.

My cheeks flood crimson and I attempt to sit back down in my seat. Only, the seat is about three inches away from me. Air flies past my ears and I brace myself for the impact. That never comes. Eric reaches out to me, and intercepts my body.

In a flash I'm on top him straddling his lower body. He looks up at me and smiles, "Kennedy, I had no idea you were so aggressive."

The nerve.

I'm about to get up when a creaking sound echoes through the mansion. I whip my head around and gasp when my eyes meet Blake's. A decreasing smile lines his teeth.

Monroe breaks the silence. Leave it to rude boy to make things more awkward, "Well you two have a lot of explaining to do."

Blake joins the conversation, broken out of his trance. His eyes are cold and hard. The boyish sparkle that glazed them when he entered vanished like it was never there.

He holds up a piece of paper previously laced through his fingers and reads: "Rule #9: Kennedy Davis is not to have any relationships with any of the pupils she will be tutoring."

I open my mouth to explain when I catch his glare. My blood runs cold. I was possibly the most lame girl in school, but I've never gotten a glare so fierce. He smirks at my appearance as I push myself up and off of Eric.

"Is that clear?"

I gulp, and nod. There's no need to explain myself to someone who won't listen. My messy bangs scatter across my forehead, and my shaking fingers push them back.

"Yes," I whisper. Eric stays silent, looking down. He hasn't spoken a word since the boys entered the room. He hasn't made an effort to put his shirt back on, making the situation even more uncomfortable than it already is-

"What was that? I couldn't hear," Blake says, cuffing his hand to his ear. I want to climb on the table and scream, "I'm not death!" But I don't. No one expects that of good girl kennedy.

I don't look at Eric or Monroe. I don't even look at Blake when I stutter my answer.

"C-clear. C-crystal clear.."

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