This Bad Boy I'm With

[12]: Arguing Is Our Specialty

People like us we've gotta stick together

Keep your head up, nothing lasts forever

~Kelly Clarkson | People Like Us

[12]: Arguing Is Our Specialty

LAST TIME I CHECKED, SETH'S chest wasn't soft.

And what I hit was indeed soft.

"AAOOOWW!" Seth howled in pain.

I didin't have the nerve to open my eyes. Instead, I squeezed it close.

"Thea, open your eyes!" He barked.

"No." I stubbornly said, covering my eyes with my both hands.

"Open them!" He exclaimed.

"Noooooo." I said, streching the word.

"Damn it, Thea." He muttured.

I felt him near me and tried to pry my hands away from my face.

Oh God, his hands are so soft and warm!

I opened my eyes.

"I told you not to punch me in the face!" He said.

"I wasn't aiming for your face, I was aiming for your chest!" I reasoned.

"I don't care where you were aiming! You're still weak." He said.

"Weak? If you just heard yourself... You were actually howling like you've been shot!"

"That's because you hit me in the face!" He argued.

"And you call yourself a fighter. Tell me, what kind of 'fighter' will make a special request like not hitting their faces?"

"A handsome fighter who would save his gorgeous face does that so he can see how girls drool over them like you do." He proudly replied, a perpetually sardonic smirk plastered on his face.

Egotistical loser.

I rolled my eyes. "Jerk."

"I've been called worse."

"That is something I can believe. So, if you won't mind, I'm getting back to work."

"Of course, your highness."

Then there goes another roll of my eyes.

"Hey Thea? Before I forget, you have a usable fist there." Seth said.

I raised my eyebrows.

"I can teach you how to punch properly."

"Oh really? Why?"

"So you can protect yourself if there's any danger."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Afraid of what?"

"I might punch you again after you teach me."

"I'm Seth Deavon, Princess. I can hadle any punch."

"Come with me to where I practice tomorrow." He said.

"No thank you. I have ballet." I replied.

"Then what time is you "ballet"?" He asked, saying the word ballet in an over exaggerated voice.

"8 am," I replied, dusting the stereo.

"Great, then, Ms. Ballerina. My training starts at 6 pm."

"Get back to work, Seth."

************

"Thea!" Someone called behind me as I walk under the light drizzle with my umbrella, looking if a bus was still here.