puck off ☆ c. sturniolo

08 Estella

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Waking up with a pounding headache with the sun beaming down on you has got to be one of the worst feelings in the world. Of course that's exactly how I wake up, twisted within Chris' sheets, alone. I rub the sleep from my eyes before I glance around the room, instantly spotting my tights ripped to shreds at the end of the bed.

"Damn." I mutter to myself before I shuffle to the edge of the bed, seeing the rest of my clothes scattered around. Wincing as I stood up, doing my best to quickly redress myself. Leaving Chris' room with my phone in my hand, I make my way up the stairs that lead into the kitchen. It's 9 am on a Saturday, I'll be able to make a clean escape as long as Chris isn't up here.

Rounding the corner of the staircase, I'm shocked to see Matt and Nate standing by the fridge. They both turn to face me as my heels click against the tile flooring, Matt instantly giving me a look of doubt.

"And where do you think you're going?" Matt asks me, folding his arms across his chest, much like a disappointed father would.

I eye him suspiciously, "I'm going home." You speak slowly, inching towards the front door. That's when Nate steps in, coming to stand beside me and rest a hand on my shoulder.

"Unfortunately, we can't let you leave." Nate speaks unenthusiastically, gently pushing my shoulder towards the dining table, wanting me to sit. I make no effort to move, watching the way they glance at each other.

"Why can't I leave?" I ask, sassily jutting my hip out and resting my hand on it.

Matt lets out a deep sigh, "Chris gave us strict instructions on not letting you leave until he got back." I scoff immediately, Chris can't just demand for me to sit here and wait for his return. We are not a married couple in the 1950's last I checked.

"And you're listening to him, why?" I ask, making Nate chuckle.

"He's the captain of the hockey team, I'm trying to have a good week." Nate answered, making Matt raise his hands and do the motion of plucking the words right out of his mouth. I bite my lip to suppress the chuckle I wanted to let out, I wasn't giving them any sign of following Chris' orders.

"Sorry boys, I'm out." I tell them, before turning on my heel and making my way down the stairs towards the front door. Before I can reach it, the door comes swinging open revealing Chris, carrying multiple McDonald's bags. His eyes instantly meet mine, and rack down my body, his lips turning downwards at the sight of me dressed.

"Go back to my room." He speaks lowly to me, as he tries to herd me back up the stairs.

"Chris I just want to go ho-"

"I'm not done with you yet, Stella. Go back in my fucking room." He darkly whispers to me, as he successfully gets me to the top of the stairs. I stare at him shocked, making a cocky smirk spread across his lips. "Now please." He speaks normally, placing a light kiss on my lips as he rounds me to set the bags of food on the kitchen table.

Fuck.

I huff as I walk past him, making my way back downstairs to his room. Quickly stripping, I enter his closet and pick out a white shirt that had Betty Boop on it, and a pair of black boxers before I make my way into his bathroom. He wants me to stay here? Fine, but I'm making myself at home.