If We're Fucked Up, You're To Blame

But this isn't normal

Skylar's POV:

"Hey," I whispered, looking up at Alex's smirking face. I felt his warm lips kiss my jawline. More kisses, more kisses slowly getting closer and closer to my mouth. After few short minutes, we were practically making out. I'd moved my position so I was on top of him. I felt his hands around my thighs and wrapped my legs around his waist. His kiss became more rough and soon he was sucking and biting my neck. I moaned, feeling his hands inside of my shirt. Once both of our shirts were out of the way, I felt his hands glide across the top of my black skinny jeans. I gasped and his smirked, moving my hands to the lining of his pants.

***

"wha," I violently whispered, flickering my eyes open. I felt the weight of an arm around my shoulder and looked up to see Alex. What the fuck kind of dream was that?

"Sky?" I flinched at the found of his voice.

"Yeah," I spit out nervously, my voice slightly cracking. I cleared my throat. "Sleep well?"

"Um, yeah.... How about you you?" He bit his lip awkwardly.

"Yeah I slept great."

"...really?"

"Yep," I nodded.

"Any dreams?" I froze up. Did I talk in my sleep? Or make noises? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Um, no. Not that I can recall."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He just nodded and awkwardly shifted away.

"Um, I'm going to go get dressed." I looked up at his alarm clock and my eyes widened. It said 8-o-clock. "Fuck!"

I jumped up from his bed and ran to my room, rushing to get ready.