I look in the mirror to figure out who I am.

Chapter Ten

So my story is writing itself in my head, so it is a bit differant that the description. But not by much.   They are going to be working on the project soon (Though it will be awkward for both of them xD) Thank you to all the people who still read this. Victoria, you are the most amazing person in the world. I love you my twin. You've got that One Thing :P MJTWE3 you are amazing chick. Thank you for continuing to read and leaving me awesome comments. You and Victoria are the reason I starting writing again. Thank you both.  <3

*Drew’s POV*

I never thought I would see the day that Wesley Stromberg would be within fifteen feet or me willingly and with no intentions of beating my face in. This is an interesting turn of events.

I don’t see why he is acting like he actually cares about my health. I helped him defend Keaton, and I get that he is grateful, but that doesn’t explain why he is doing this. I am not the only one that would have helped him.

The only good thing is that it is him doing this, so he won’t ask too many questions. He doesn’t truly care so he won’t want to know what happened and how I got these wounds.

At least I think he won’t.  He seems too want to really get my shirt off so that he can see my sides. He won’t ask. If he does I can always lie. I can’t leave my dad. He needs me. Maybe if I do something to make him so mad that he leaves? What would do that though?

Maybe if I pretend to flirt with him?

“Now babe, if you wanted to see me shirtless that bad all you had to do was ask.” I send him my best smirk and wink that makes the ladies swoon.

I think my plan backfired. He blushed and started stuttering. Crap, what do I do if he actually thinks I am serious? I mean yeah, he is very good looking for a guy, but I am not gay. I like women.

I am overthinking this. He gets my shirt off and I hear him gasp above me. Well, that didn’t sound sexual at all. I wonder how he would sound with my dick up his a-

What the crap? Where on earth did that come from? Damn it. I need to get laid. I respect women and I hate one night stands, but I am a guy with needs.

I wince as he jabs his finger into my side. How is this helping exactly?

“Where do you keep your medial kit?” Maybe if I let him do this he will leave. Then he won’t ask too many questions and I can stop imagining what his face would look like when he cums.

I am just delirious right now. That is the only explanation that I can give for this. I motion to the down stairs bathroom. “In there under the sink.”

He makes a quick run to the bathroom and starts stitching me up. We sit in silence for a bit before he starts talking.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” I look at him like he has lost him mind. Maybe that is why he is here. He has lost his mind and forgot that he hates my guts.

“Why should I?” He stops what he is doing and looks like he is contemplating the exact same question. What reason has he given me to trust him? How do I know that he won’t hold this information over my head or torture me with it?

“I. Look I don’t like you and I know you don’t like me either, but you helped Keaton today. You did something for me that no one else would have done, and I am very grateful. I just want to help. That’s all. But if you still want to be an ass and keep it to yourself then go for it.”

I wince again as he pulls the stitches way too tight to emphasize that he is not amused.

“I still don’t see why you expect me to tell you. Not like it is anything big. But you have given me no reason to trust you. You just stated that you still don’t like me. So you know what? You have done enough. Get out.” I shove him off and move to go upstairs.