✎ 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

-LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE

I woke up, realizing it was Thanksgiving break starting today. The smell of pancakes made my body get up, following the smell automatically.

Malcolm looked in a rush as he practically bounced around the kitchen. I shook my head, laughing, and grabbed the syrup.

"Looking for this?" I made myself known, scaring him. "Oh! You're awake! That's uhm... good." He looked a little disappointed, biting his lip. I lifted an eyebrow, wondering what had him all worked up.

Suddenly, he grabbed the syrup out of my hands and pushed me out of the kitchen. "You, here, no moving." I looked like a gaping fish, letting my hand fall that had the sauce in it.

A few seconds later, Malcolm walked in with a tray full of food. Pancakes and waffles were together, with lots of syrup covering it. Bananas slices and blueberries added a nice coat, oatmeal on the side. Apple juice as the drink.

"For me?" I asked, shocked. He looked a bit embarrassed, scratching his arm. "Well, yeah. A fatass gots to eat." I scoffed. "I am NOT a fatass. You're the fatass." I rolled my eyes. "Okay, crybaby." He smirked.

He grabbed a table and put the food on there.

"Eat quick, dummy. I don't have all day for you to just eat slowly like you have all the time in the world." I glared at him. "Now since you said that, I'll eat slower than how slow your daddy made your mommy cum." His jaw hung open.

"Oh, no you did not." I grinned. "I did." I said, cutting up the food and eating it.

"Taste like shit. The same as the person who made it." This had to be the best food that's ever touched my tongue. "Liar." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever lies you want to feed yourself." I shrugged.

I continued to eat the food, the two of us in silence.
"Can you not stare at me?" I asked, finishing the meal and taking it to the kitchen. Sitting it in the sink, I turned around to see a chest. I looked up, laughing. "You don't scare me." I walked past him, but he grabbed my wrist in a tight grip.

"When you first saw me, I did." He laughed, an evil glint in his eyes. "I'm past that." I said in one deep breath. Just when I started to like him, he pulled this kind of shit.

"Sure?" He chuckled darkly. "Like hell I am,"

I closed my eyes, inhaling a deep breath as memories came back to me.

"What did you think of me when you first saw me?" Malcolm asked me, his fingers playing with my hair from behind me. I was sitting in between his legs, mine crisscrossed apple sauce watching a movie.

"Well, Malcow." He laughed at the nickname. "I thought you were... interesting." I told him the truth. "Anything else?" I nodded. "A little scared." I admitted. "I thought you were this innocent flower. You proved me wrong in so many ways."

I opened my eyes, glaring at Malcolm, letting go of that breath. I did hate him, and no one could make me change my mind.

"Let go of me." I tried to snatch my wrist back from him, yet he pushed my body flush against his body instead. "Last night..." he started. "You think I wouldn't notice that one fake smile?" He chuckled. "You didn't notice-" I cut myself off before I started to say something I would regret.

"Was it real? Was everything we shared fucking real? I don't want to be played by some girl who can't even get herself together." Anger flared alive in me. "Tell me the goddamn truth." I didn't speak. "Stella, I am talking to you." he yelled.

"Shut the fuck up and let go of me, you sick bastard!" I shouted, using all my strength to free myself from him. A tear fell from my eye from the growing, throbbing bruise on my wrist.