The Persistent Alpha, & Resistant Luna

5. And There Goes The Mood Killer .

I cracked open the bathroom door, peering around the room to see if exotic eyes was anywhere in sight.

Noting he was gone and the door was closed, I quickly made my way over to the bed, picking up the clothes I assumed were the ones he set out for me.

"Of course." I scoffed, picking up a shirt, and holding it to my body. "His clothes."

I threw the shirt back on the bed and picked up another clothing piece. "Aaand his boxers, great." I threw those too.

"Stupid pervert." I sat on his plush bed, looking around the room.

I need to get home, I know dad's beyond worried.

I looked over at the shirt and slid it over my body.

"I was generous, it's been more than two-"

"Get the hell out!" I stood, fumbling with the boxers he'd given me, trying to get them on and managing to fall over, surely giving him a nice flash of my ass.

He whistled. Fucker.

When I managed to get them on, I quickly stood, holding down the hem of my shirt, trying to cover as much of my legs as possible.

"You've got a nice little frame there pet, you work out?"

"I mind my own business and keep my eyes to myself." I snapped.

"You lie." He said, obviously mimicking it the same way I'd said it to him earlier.

"What?"

"Your eyes tend to wander." He smiled, tilting his head, "They've already sized me up."

I knew my face reddened. "I don't know what you're talking about." I looked away.

"Sure you don't." He chuckled, walking over to sit on his couch. "Take the bed."

"What?" I looked at him, then at the bed and back.

"Not unless you'd like for me to join you."

"Not a chance." I copied his words from earlier as well.

He smiled, like.. genuinely smiled and it made my heart hammer in my chest.

"I, um.. I'm tired." I said, crawling into his bed quickly and tucking his golden comforter around my body.

"Before you sleep.." He said, leaning over to pick something up off the floor and then walking over to me with it.

"What is that? A box of your killing instruments? Keep it away from me."

He stopped, shook his head and chuckled, then took a seat close by me on the bed.

"Or it's a first aid kit."

"..Oh." I smiled sheepishly.

I watched him open the box and tear open a medical wipe to dab across my head.

"Ow, ow." Without thinking, I grabbed his hand. He stiffened and didn't continue to press on it anymore. "Sorry," I said quickly letting go of his hand.

"It's fine." He tossed the wipe into a small trash bin that was next to his nightstand. Then I watched him pull out a roll of white tape that looked like a line of hashtags.

"This is like a medicinal bandaid." He said, his voice low and informative, "You keep it on there and it will eventually dissolve itself, it has medicine that will help heal this quicker."