The One That Got Away {Promise: Book One}

1. Promise

1 | Wren Miller

"Never in my 20 years of teaching have I met a class so disrespectful!" Mr. Kennedy shouted, pointing across the room to different students. I'd never liked him, or any teacher for that matter, but I wasn't the type of student to shout out my rude opinions in the middle of class, like others were. A lot of the students in this science class are cunts. A select few, spread out to make all of us look bad. Luckily, I'm known for being the good kid - I mean, the worst thing I've done is read under the table when I wasn't supposed to - so atleast I don't get punished for the mishaps of others.

The main offender of all the havoc? Billie Joe. The asshole who will do everything in his power to ruin anyone's day, often as a 'joke'. Never funny, of course.

"You know what? I can't have you sitting with Mike anymore, 'cause all you do is chatter!" As Mr. Kennedy's voice increases in volume, I hear his accent protrude more, Australian, proud of it too. He'd often bring in pictures of him holding massive snakes along with other giant critters. "Billie, move next to Wren!"

Fuck. Me.

As if this school year wasn't bad enough.

I wake up to the smell of cinnamon wrapped around me, along with a strong warmth, which nearly knocks me back to sleep. I don't want to wake up this morning, as my bed has never been this comfortable to sleep in, but - obviously - I must. I snuggle into the source of the warmth, feeling a smile crease my lips. Realizing my hands are wrapped around something, my eyebrows furrow with confusion. Its hard, with a fabric-like feel to it.

I enjoyed this secure feeling too much, I felt myself slip into thoughts of relaxation, well, I had nothing else to do today. I gripped onto whatever I was holding, squeezing it to figure out whatever it was, instead of just opening my eyes. For opening my eyes would ruin the pure comfort.

"Stop touching my dick, unless you plan on doing something with it."

That voice.

That. Fucking. Voice.

The one which caused me pain all throughout my high-school career. I wonder if my brain gave me that dream as a warning, a cryptic warning that the darkness was forcing his way back into my life.

I should move away, but fear clings to my skin, paralyzing me. My skin crawls in the same way it would those years ago. I feel myself begin to shake, and my vision blurs in a way which makes me nauseous, although, I can find lots of reasons to be nauseous right now.  

The biggest reason?

I'm touching Billie Joe's dick.

Billie's
hard
dick.

My eyes, the only thing which can move, shoot open. Under me, is Billie's bare chest. As I look down, I breathe a sigh of relief. Billie's bottom half is encased by sweats, still, I'm touching his dick either way, but atleast I'm not touching him while he's exposed. Although, I'm not sure if thats any better.

I shake myself free from the paralyzing trance, pulling myself away and sitting up on the bed.

I'm in my room, thank god. But as I come to that realization, I also realize that Billie is my bedroom too. In my bed.

One thing about Billie is, In high-school, he had no consciousness of his body odor. Instead of simply showering, he'd bathe in deodorant. However, from what I can smell, he's discovered what body wash is. Thank god. Atleast I wont have to plug my nose as I shoo him from my home.

"Did we-" I'm instantly cut off by Billie, which is no suprise to me at all. "Yeah. We had sex." His face doesn't remain straight for long, as a laugh cascades from his throat, his head tipping back as it strengthens.