Rich Kid in Disguise

Disguise 18.5: The Agreement

Rich Kid in Disguise

The Agreement

Disguise 18.5

-Penelope's POV-

"Are you scared?"

His question held mockery, something I really wanted to wipe off of him. The certain arrogance that makes me want to punch him.

But I don't. I couldn't.

If only he wasn't this near.

I made my move to push him, my hand laying on his chest. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed both and held them above my head. I gasped at the suddenness.

I'm helpless.

His lips curled up in a smirk, his face inching closer to mine. I closed my eyes shut, afraid to see what was going to happen. I felt him shift closer, his breath fanning over my earlobe. I felt my own breath hitch at his actions.

"Can I ask you a favor?" He whispered to me, an unintentional shiver running down my spine.

Damn.

"That depends," I said after what seemed like forever, my voice shaky and hoarse. Jeremy's shoulders were shaking from laughter. It didn't take logic to know that, his body is practically glued to me. "That depends if you detach yourself from my petite body and that depends if the favor is something doable or not."

Pretty soon enough, Jeremy obliged with a wide boyish smile. I felt all my hair stand up, making me extra sensitive to the surroundings. Even though I was wearing a sweater, I hugged myself and let out a chilly breath. He kept his smile, my eyes narrowing. I scowled and slapped his mouth.

"Stop that."

"Let me guess," He paused, pretending to think. "My charms are too much for you."

I scoffed. "Would you get over yourself, principe?" I told him, the Spanish word drenched with sarcasm.

"No can do, princesa." He replied, shaking his head. I prevented the urge to roll my eyes.

What an effin' jerk.

"Are you sure you're not drunk?"

"Why? Are you planning to do something to me?" I retorted with annoyance. He shrugged.

"How many cups of beer did you drink?"

"Five cups of cheap crap," I answered, snorting. "I'd call sixteen before I get heavily drunk. I'm not that lightheaded as you stereotype me, Ford."

"I wasn't." He replied quickly. I gave him a long look.

"You were."

"Maybe. Maybe not," He evaded as I groaned in exasperation. "Now, about my favor."

"I say no if you want me to make out with a statue," I pointed out. "I'm not that drunk to be that stupid."

"Then you'll know if my favor would be doable or not."

"It doesn't sound legit to me," I argued. "But then nothing legit comes out of your mouth."

"Ouch," He responded sarcastically, pointing his heart for dramatic effect. I flipped him off. "It's official. You're tipsy."

"Not denying that," I agreed, fainting a smile. "But can't we do your favor tomorrow?"

"You'd be sober enough to insult me all kinds of things."