The Perfect Pretend

Chapter 2:// Addie

Chapter 2:// Addie

 

 

He finally leaned forward and kissed me fully on the lips. The kiss wasn’t my first, but it feels like it was. The way his lips move was really soothing and so caring. It was gentle enough that I felt the tickling tingles ran down through my spine. The guy with the tousled brown hair handled me like I was a fragile object. I didn’t even remember how we got to this phase where he was kissing, or how his face looks like. Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he looked so sweet because that is what he shows.

My eyes were still closed as he broke the connection of our lips. It still felt hot from the sensation that he gave me. Right now, I can feel his rough fingers on the soft skin of my face. He brushed the strands of my hair that were sticking on my forehead because of my sweat. Though his skin was the opposite of my silky ones, everything seemed so perfect; like it was made for each other. I never felt this complete before.

“Addie,” he whispered. It was actually weird because I feel like I’ve heard his voice before. But I’ve brushed off that thought because I was thinking how he managed to remember my name while I can’t even picture his face.

“I like you so much,” he kissed me once again with the same passion. I didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, because I’m Addison Dawson—no boyfriend since birth. Sure, I’ve dated loads of guys and hook ups but they never made it official. They never even said they like me. I’ve always loathed the phrase ‘official is a big word’. It’s not even big as the Hollywood sign. People are just making a BIG deal about it. Dumb people in this generation only care about intercourse. Poor Addie, I guess. But this guy, I instantly knew he was special. “Do you trust me?” he said between our kisses.

I was really high because of his kisses, so I only achieved to nod my head. Of course, I instantaneously trust for he was the first guy to like me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Without breaking the kiss, I felt him lightly push me in bed. My heart started to pump—almost ripping out of my ribcage. He ran his hand from my neck to my shoulder blades, leaving hot trails on my skin. His hand was about to explore bit further when I heard the stinging sound of the doorbell.

My eyes fluttered open—I knew they were really red, and I glanced on the bedside table. My clock reads 1:49 A.M. Who would dare to interrupt the pretty and rich heir of the Dawson Corporation? Of course I made that up; I haven’t even eaten dinner nor brushed my teeth because I ran out of toothpaste. But many people said that anyone would rather mess with a drunken person, not with a girl who just woke up.

I lazily stood up from my bed. I didn’t even fix myself up; the freaking visitor can suck it up and deal with my appearance. Hair sticking up in every direction, eyes red from the deep slumber, and my oversized shirt were almost crumpled, I knew that the word horrible would be an understatement of the year.

I sleepily walked down the dim stairs, and then the gloomy living room. I was even surprised that I wasn’t caught in an accident by going down the stairs because my vision was haze and everything was twirling. This is worse than being drunk, though I haven’t experienced being that wasted. I just can feel it.