7 Minutes in Heaven

7 Minutes in Heaven Chapter 9

So guess what? I entered this story in the Watty Awards 2012 in the Teen Fiction category! xD So when the time comes, be sure to vote my story pwease! But other than that, hopefully you like this story.

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Nate’s car pulled silently, by the curb in front of the mailbox about twenty minutes later. The muffled rumble of his engine came to a halt as I listened intently while my head was pressed against the pillow, eyes gazing out the window. By that time, I slipped out from under the satin covers and sneaked downstairs where all I could hear around me was the house breathing a steady rhythm in the thick silence.

What was I doing? I actually invited this guy—Mr. Player—who’s known for sleeping around with nearly every girl in the school, into my house. What happened to my common sense, my sensibility? Emmett had always warned me, time and time again, to never trust someone who—you can tell by intuition—will take advantage of you and only use you for one thing. He always told me that no matter how amazingly attractive he is, I can’t fall for the traps and the lame sweet-talk. Yet look at me, admitting to Nate Stanford, the king of players, that I’m in love with his kisses and caresses. All I have to do is, advise myself not to fall for him…for real.

There he stood right in front of my door, hands jammed in the pockets of his worn-out jeans. A simple purple tee and grey sweatshirt set on his muscular, skinny, and slightly tanned body. My, oh my, did this guy know how to get even a hard-to-get girl to ogle him. My eyes scanned the features of his square face: electrifying neon blue eyes, the bangs of his dark brown hair swept across his forehead, his lips curved up into that trademark smirk of his—arrogant as ever.

Compared to my pale, oval face with dark brown eyes; long, wavy hair dyed a reddish-orange color, slightly tousled at the moment. I was dressed in grey sweatpants with my last name and “Field Hockey” printed along the leg. My shirt was a simple, blue tee.

My eyes continued to roam Nate’s haughty face when I heard him ask teasingly, “Are you going to open the door? Or are you going to continue checking me out?” That immediately snapped me back to reality, and I found myself turning off the alarm and opening the door for him. The moment he stepped foot in the kitchen, his lips crashed onto mine.

Nate tasted faintly of beer. And…smoke.

Smoke…

I recoiled, pushing him off of me roughly. I turned my head away from him, pressing my mouth to my arm, and let out a violent cough. “Wha—wha”—I began, my coughs never ceasing—“Did you smo—smoke?”

Nate raised a confused eyebrow before answering me slowly, “Yeah… Why?” I shot him a deadly glare and his face instantly snapped to realization. “Oh yeah, you hate smoke, don’t you?”

After another round of coughs, I let out a clear statement, “I freaking hate smoke!” I took a deep breath. “Did you like, just smoke before you got here?” He nodded. “I can’t believe you forgot…and did you drink?”

He gave a careless shrug, turning his back to me as he closed the back door. Nate’s gaze returned to meet mine. “Well, I had a bottle of beer before I got myself laid with Michelle.” I shuddered, my face contorting in disgust. Catching sight of that, his smirk only grew wider. “Don’t worry, I was sobered up before I came here.” Well no duh.

“What happened to Michelle?” I asked blandly.

He tilted his head back in thought, hands brought to his hips before lowering his head for his neon blue eyes to meet mine. That sudden spark of electricity shot right up my spine instantaneously. “I left her while she was asleep,” he replied dully. As to be expected of Mr. Player.