Brooklyn (A Paul Lahote Story)

Chapter Seventeen

I curl up closer to the heat beside me, my nose and toes cold from the lack of warmth. I place them against what feels like a pillow, trying to lock in the heat from leaving my skin.

Against my nose the heat starts to rumble, a chuckling sound escaping it and I bunch my brows together to try and decipher the sound. Naturally, I bring my left hand up to touch the cushioned heat only to come in contact against a hard object. I hit my palm against it gently only to hear a clap - skin hitting skin.

Okay, it's only skin. I think to myself, smiling softly as I drift back off to sleep.

"Skin?!" I quietly shout, the thought finally sinking in as I lunge myself backward and against hardwood flooring.

I slowly sit up, groaning as I take in my surroundings. A room I've never been in, great.

Okay, so either I've been kidnapped or I'm stuck in a horrible nightmare. I think to myself as I continue to look around. 

Wait, was there... I think again, glaring at the lump on the bed I was previously on. Slowly, I stand up and look at the person whom was laying next to me while I slept.

Brown, fluffy hair which is a huge mess - might I add. Russet skin, muscular body. Wait- I take a closer look to examine the unidentified figure.

Paul? Great. I internally groan, wondering how I got here and why he's here. Why am I not home? The question wanders my mind as I look around the room, seeing my shoes next to the bed.

I bend down, grabbing them quickly and placing on my socks before trying - however failing - to put them on quickly.

"Everything okay, Dani?" I hear a groggy Paul ask and I look at him, dropping one of my shoes.

"Hmm?" I ask, bending down to pick it back up.

"What are you doing?" He asks, standing up only to reveal himself in nothing but a pair of sweatpants hanging loosely around his hip.

Gulp.

"Uhh, planning on leaving." I answer honestly, starting to put on my shoes - but slowly this time.

Paul runs a lazy hand through his messy hair as he approaches me. "You might want to put on your clothes, then." He smirks before brushing past me.

I look down at my attire, seeing nothing but an old green shirt on my body - luckily it's long enough to touch my knees. Quickly, I discard my shoes and place my curly locks in a messy bun before running after Paul.

"Where are my clothes, Lahote?" I angrily ask, trying out his last name for size.

Probably pronounced it wrong, Danielle. I hiss at myself as I continue to pat my socked feet across the hardwood floor.

"Washer. They were dirty." Paul calmly states, grabbing an apple and tossing it at me.

I clumsily catch it, looking at the red fruit before looking back up at Paul. "Can we put them in the drier?" I ask, huffing a sigh of frustration.

He smirks again. "Don't got one. I hang dry."

I internally groan, throwing the apple at him before marching away.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

~*~

*Paul's P.O.V*

I lied. I have a drier. But she doesn't need to know that.

I take another bite from the apple she threw back at me as I relax on the couch and watch some tv. Danielle's been in my room for a while now, probably trying to figure out a way to leave with her clothes dry.