Because Who Could Love A Broken Girl? ✔️

Who Could Love The Four Cheeks

Skylar's P.O.V.

It's Monday morning.

I picked up a piece of trash in the park on Saturday, and it wasn't even mine!

So, the universe decides to thank me with a Monday morning.

Flipping fantastic.

The moment I hear the angelic voice of my beloved alarm clock, I gracefully hop from the bed and dance toward my bathroom, eager to start the day.

Yeah... Right.

Here's what really happened:

I was having a dream about Nash Grier. He was asking me to run away with him to Paris, but before I could answer, my alarm clock began blaring through the room, snapping me out of my dreamlike state.

I groan in protest and slam a hand down on the snooze button, praying that I wasn't banished from my mansion with Nash in dreamland.

Unfortunately, the palace-like home had vanished from my imagination, and I was never to return.

I sigh and roll over slightly, not daring to open my eyes, just in case I could magically slip back into oblivion.

Suddenly, I hear a deep growl behind me, and immediately stop moving. A large hand rubs my back and slides over my side, planting itself on my stomach.

"Uh... Nash?" I ask stupidly.

"Better." A voice whispers.

"Grayson."

"Bingo."

I giggle slightly and turn to face him. I shiver from the sudden coldness and pull the blanket up to my chin. He chuckles and wraps his arms around me, pulling my small body into his warm chest.

"H-how are you so w-warm?" I ask in a small voice.

"I don't know, Princess. How are you so cold?" He remarks.

"T-t-touché." I stutter out.

He rubs his large hands up and down my arms, radiating warmth through my body. I sigh in content and snuggle deeper into his chest, loving the feeling of his arms around me.

"Do we have to go to school today?" I ask.

"Unfortunately, we do. Come on baby, you've gotta get ready."

"Me? What about you?"

"I just have to put pants on." He shrugs.

My eyes widen and I shuffle away from him slightly.

"You're seriously not wearing pants?" I ask.

"You're seriously scooting away from me because of it?"

I bite my lip and look down awkwardly. He sighs and pulls me back into his chest.

"I'm wearing boxers. They're practically shorts." He assures me.

"Oh whatever."

I wrap my arms around his neck, forcing him impossibly closer. He chuckles and wraps his arms around my waist, swinging me up to position me on his lap, my legs straddling his hips.

He rubs his hands along my thighs in smooth patterns while looking up to me with a content smile.

He gives me a once over a clicks his tongue in disapproval. I raise an eyebrow and he smirks.

"You know, you're clothes are more revealing than mine. If anything, I should be scooting away from you."

I look down to my spaghetti strap tank top and spandex shorts. Okay... He may have a point there...