Fuckboy // m.c

/// Chapter Three ///

Rinai POV

"Get out of my apartment before I call the police." I threaten, as he goes to move towards me. His green eyes flick to baseball bat still gripped tightly in my hands. Knowing he was looking at it, I lift it slightly, showing him that I wasn't afraid to use it.

He looks up at me, his sly grin still in place, but I could see the sudden hesitance hiding behind the mask of arrogance. He had no idea that I had little upper-body strength, that I couldn't possibly hit someone with a solid metal baseball bat.

He shrugs his shoulders at my frown, and moves past me. His shoulder brushes mine as he passes and I sharply inhale in shock. What a mistake that was. He smelled amazing.

Despite the undercurrent of alcohol seeping out of his pores, the overwhelming smell of cologne, warm spice, and hot and heavy musk was incredible. It was a scent built on desire, and for some reason I couldn't get enough of it.

But he moved to quickly for me to get anymore than a quick draught of his scent, leaving me wondering what it would be like to smell him closely. God damn, that sounds weird.

"This is a nice place you got here." He calls back to me, still sauntering towards the couches. I glare at his back, feeling frustration and (annoyingly) attraction towards his cocky and yet mysterious behaviour.

"Yeah it's my best friends and I's." I say back, gripping the baseball bat tighter, "Who just conveniently is coming back from a club right now."

He looks back at me, his dark eyebrow lifting in an arrogant manner. "Is that so, Princess?"

"Yeah, so you might want to get out of here." I hint, removing one of my hands from the baseball bat to point towards the front door. "And stop calling me that." I reprimand.

His plump lips quirk up in a smirk, and I finally catch onto how naturally red they look, almost a perfect match with his hair.

"For some reason I don't believe you, Princess." He replies coolly. He flops down into the black leather couch, kicking his feet comfortably onto the coffee table in front of him.

"Oh really? And why is that?"

"Because if you knew she was coming home you would have had your phone in your hand, and I know for a fact that your phone is currently playing music in your room." He points towards the open door of my bedroom where music is indeed still playing from when I was studying.

"Okay, look here creep, I don't know who you are, and I certainly don't want you in my home." I growl, attempting to seem slightly intimidating to the man-giant in my apartment.

He lets out a light laugh, seemingly finding my aggressive tactics amusing. "Oh Princess, I like you. You got spunk."

"I don't have 'spunk' or whatever, I have a baseball bat that is about to meet your skull if you don't move your ass out of here." I threaten, brandishing the metal bat again.

"Why are you so desperate to get me out of here? I am not doing anything to hurt you, I just want to sit here and talk with you." He says, gesturing to the couch he is sitting on.

"Because you're a stranger and I don't know you at all!" I yell, getting frustrated at his drunk manner.

"My name is Michael Clifford and I am 21 years old. I had toast with Vegemite on it for breakfast this morning, I went out to a bar with friends this afternoon to get wasted and fuck a chick. I have a poodle named Federer and he has three teeth. There, now you know me." He cheekily says, tousling his already crazy hair.

"Excuse me, saying all of that does not mean I know you at all. You could be an axe-wielding murderer for all I know." I boast.

"Babe, I'm not the one waving a fucking metal baseball bat around the room like a club. Seems to me like your more likely to be a murderous psycho than me." He whispers the last part to me in fake concern. My mouth falls on shock and I feel myself lifting my chin indignantly.

"I am not a psycho, thank you very much."

"Good to know. Now that we've cleared that up, come join me on the couch." He lazily says, patting the spot next to him.

I slowly walk over to the small chair across from the couch, the furthest place from where he as sitting. I place the baseball bat down next to me with a clang, still wary of the man sitting across from me.

He rolls his green eyes at my wariness, but doesn't try to get me to move any closer to him. He suddenly leans forward to look closely at me. His eyes meet mine and I can't blink, mesmerized by them.

Seconds later I feel them start to burn, and I see the red-haired boys mouth twitch up, clearly knowing he was about to win the unofficial staring contest. Finally I can't handle it any longer and I blink, breaking the connection instantly.

Suddenly becoming very interested in my hands, I nervously say "So... what do you want?"

"Well right now I want to talk to the hot girl in front of me who has legs that go for miles."

"I'm not hot." I reply crossing my legs, suddenly very aware of the fact that I am indeed wearing very small denim shorts. "And my legs don't go for miles; they are a very average length, thank you very much."

"Princess, I hate to break it to you, but you're smoking hot and I would love to one day see how long those legs really do go for. I'd also love to see them wrapped around my head." He says audaciously. My mouth drops open again, shocked at his brashness.

"Now tell me, what's your name, age and virginity status."

///

Lol that was really fun to write because I feel like some of those lines Michael would actually use. jk he isn't a douche. except for the time he used that titanic line, that was fricking hilarious

I've made the boys' ages slightly older because it fits in with the story better, but other than that I think the boys will stay relatively the same

Big love xx

Morgan