For Your's

Part B2

Now I don't want to admit it. And this isn't me admitting to anything... but ever since that day I've been horny as fuuck. And the house has never been empty and I'm trying to avoid confronting Zander. He still has my undies and I'm not sure I'll ever get them back, not that I want them now their memory is tainted. I have to get out of this house. Go out and distract myself from everything.

Oh, so also, on top of the whole caught-in-the-act thing at home, my boss asked me out to a work party/thing and somehow I told him that I was already bringing someone and I may have led him to believe that I was in a relationship. Not that I know any guys willing to play the part, let alone come to a work party/thing. And did I mention? It's tomorrow. I may just have to hire an escort for the night. Fantastic... my life's screwed at home and at work.

Mid thought I hear a knock on my door. I check to make sure that I'm decent and open it. Big mistake. You'll never guess who's at the door. But it's too late to go back now. I put on a fake smile and unsuccessfully try to ignore the awkward tension, "Hey what's up?" He says nothing and gestures to the room behind me and I step back, reluctantly letting him pass. I close the door and sit back down on my bed waiting for him to explain the meaning behind this visit.

Smirking, of course, he offers me a piece of gum (which I decline), takes a stick for himself and leans against the back of the door. "Lovely little room you've got here, design it when you were six maybe?" How irritating can he be?

"Seven actually thanks for noticing," seeing as how he won't be leaving anytime soon I grab a magazine off of my nightstand and flip open to a random article. Anything to try and hint that he should leave. Obviously it proves ineffective as he is now walking around my room, hands crossed behind his back as he inspects all the little details and pictures that litter my walls and mirror, I'm starting to get antsy.

The magazine gets tossed back to its original place and I sit up to monitor his unwelcome tour. He turns abruptly from the wall to face me from across the room, "You leave all this laundry all over the floor? How much of a slob can you be? And I thought the boys were bad," I can hear the mothering tone in his voice but..... Laundry? Slob? My room looks like an ad for desk organizers and shelf dividers.

Now obviously I should've processed that comment a lot faster, but I was under duress, what's a girl supposed to do, think faster? The second after he finishes his sentence but a fraction of one before I can comprehend it he has pulled out a pair of underwear that were unmistakably the ones that started this whole mess, his sharp voice interrupted my scrambled thoughts, "See? I mean you even leave underwear in places literally anybody could see!" Oh fuck.
His smirk has turned into a malicious grin and I can feel a rock drop into the pit of my stomach. "Now darling, if someone, let's just pretend, were to stumble upon these just lying around in your room they may think you were implicating certain events," the evil in his voice grew with each hypothetical. He takes a step toward me with each pause in his words. "We wouldn't want that now, would we." It wasn't a question. I sit speechless during his approach and he's now standing close enough to me that our knees touch from how I'm sitting. I want to shrivel into a ball of dusty leather and bones to escape the humiliation although I don't mind telling you that I simultaneously want to knee his groin and run for it. But I can't do that, he saved me from Fin so I kinda owe him a favor. That favor is that I won't maim him. Settled. Moving on.
"Hey, sweetheart, you dead?" His snapping in front of my face jolts back to reality. Seeing me regain focus he leans forward, instinctively I lean back a little. But he doesn't stop and before I know it the mattress hits my head. His elbows on either side of my head and his legs in front of mine I'm pinned, lovely. "Now that we're all nice and cozy why don't we have a chat?" The smell of mint gum on his breath makes me wish that my own breath didn't smell like something out of a swamp.