Femme Fatale

4- Hormones Raging

I honestly don't know why you still drag me into this shit," I grumble to Liam.

"I have no idea," he shrugs.

"Let me recap: we're going to sit here in the dark in the living room until Arabella shows up, and then you'll play the responsible and jealous father?" I say, frustrated.

"Basically," he agrees, not giving it much importance. I huff in frustration. I should have done what the other guys did and gone out to fuck someone. Aka Megan.

That's what I thought two hours ago.

It's been two fucking hours that I've been sitting on this damn couch with Liam in this damn silence, waiting for damn Arabella, who hasn't shown up. And it's already three damn o'clock in the morning.

I'm almost falling asleep with my chin in my hand when I finally hear the noise of the door.

A noise of something falling and breaking.

"Oops," Arabella sounds cheerful. A few drunken laughs follow. She's not alone. I hope she didn't bring anyone to fuck wildly in my guest room.

"You're so clumsy, Abby," the slurred voice, which I recognize as Ashton's, elongates the "o". They burst into more giggles. "What's it like living in this fucking place with Liam, the motherfucker?"

Suddenly, the drunken conversation becomes interesting.

"It sucks. Damn, I'm going crazy. Liam is a fucked-up asshole who thinks that after the shit he's done, he has the right to meddle in my life."

"I'm sorry for you, Abby."

"Me too. But they have a fighting room. Yay," her voice becomes cheerful again. Drunkards.

"That's nice, Abby. And the challenge?"

"I'm going to make it. Soon enough, you dumbass."

Drunken laughter and hiccups. Isn't Liam going to turn on the lights?

"I know you will."

"Why are we just sitting in the middle of the living room?"

"Because I'm a plant," more hiccups and drunken laughter. Then, footsteps head towards the stairs. When I hear the bedroom door close, the lights turn on. Liam looks thoughtful and stands up without saying anything.

That ungrateful prick.

But analyzing their conversation, I can tell one thing: Whatever Liam did, it was serious. And it left scars.

Arabella comes downstairs. She's only wearing a men's dress shirt that covers just enough to make me want to take the damn shirt off and fuck her on the table. I'm sitting next to Liam, who has said little more than a "good morning" since yesterday.

Arabella angrily walks past the dining area, where we are, and goes straight to the kitchen. She returns a few seconds later with a small knife in her hand. To my surprise, she walks straight towards us. Her lips tightly pressed into a straight line, and her expression angrier than I've ever seen. She stops in front of us, on the other side of the table, and leans slightly over it, forcefully stabbing the knife into the wood, three centimeters away from my hand and Liam's. I widen my eyes and look at her, completely enraged.

"What the fuck is your problem? Have you gone crazy?" I move my face a little closer to theirs. Maybe, just maybe, I glanced at the spectacular view of her breasts covered by a black lace bra that the open buttons of the dress shirt provided and the fact that she was leaning over the table distracted me.

"Listen well, you two stupid motherfuckers," she starts, ignoring me. Her voice carries so much venom that for a moment, I think I saw a drop of it dripping from the corner of her mouth. "If you dare to eavesdrop on my conversations again, this knife won't miss its fucking target next time," she growls.