blue (book one) - h.s. ✔️ watty's 2019

chapter 2

Blinding light and white is all I see when I open my eyes. After a couple of more blinks and a few eye rubs I am met with a defying silhouette.

"You knocked yourself out pretty badly earlier," the voice starts in that seeming to be familiar, husky tone. My eyes adjust to the harsh morning light coming from the open window and worried, green eyes come into sight.

"Water?" he asks calmly.

I panic.

With the large shoe I retrieved from the closet, um, earlier? I jump off of the bed holding it as a weapon between the both of us.

"Whoa, whoa," he chuckles holding his hands up in surrender.

"I'm the good guy."

His voice is calm and steady as he eyes the shoe in my hand cautiously.

"What are you doing here?" I speak, raising up the shoe so that he can get a better look at it. His attention is trained on the black shoe in my hand.

Got 'em.

He simply smiles at me knowingly before speaking.

"What are you doing here?"

He's got a point.

"Now lower the weapon," he starts still smiling at me as he lowers his hands to the shoe.

"Good, boy."

Immediately, I swing the shoe right back up at him shocking him back a few steps.

"You want to play that game, eh?"

In a split second he's managed to knock his shoe out of my hand and has turned me completely around, holding me flush up against his hard chest.

"I'm the good guy, Parker. Chill," he whispers into my ear before spinning me out of his arms and into the bed. His breath is hot and I swear his lips were gliding against my ear.

"Water?" he repeats again completely indifferent it seems, smiling.

Taking a sip, I drink slowly not taking my eyes off of him before opening my mouth to speak. My sense of awareness is heightened. This is the last thing I want to be dealing with right now.

"Where am I?" My voice sounds calm and tired in comparison to how wild my thoughts are. My eyes flicker everywhere but him until he opens his mouth to speak again.

"You are in my flat," he starts. "Do you really not remember anything from last night?"

I look around, growing more and more anxious by the second. The room is modern and spacious. There is more individuality in my pinky alone than in this barren room. Perhaps if I knew the guy, I'd be able to pick out bits and pieces of his personality from within these four walls.

"I'm sorry, what?"

My mind is everywhere and even the simplest of movements are intimidating.

Smiling, the most captivating smile I've ever seen, he repeats, "Do you really not remember anything from last night?"

I immediately conjure up the worst situations despite his gentle kindness: so far.

My hands subconsciously touch my body.

Reading the expression on my face, he continues.

"I didn't fuck you," he spits monotonously.

"I don't swing that way."

I wince slightly at his harsh tone. Is he irritated with my assumption? His mood has changed drastically and anyone studying it would've gotten extreme whiplash from the switch.