Bad Boy Isn't My Type... (Published as 'The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Boys)

Chapter 11

My feet moved almost mechanically, forwards, backwards and across whilst my arms rose above my head and I ran my hands down my bare stomach. The beat rang through my chest and echoed around the warehouse. I had decided to take a break after uni. The crew wasn’t practising but I didn’t feel like going home so did what I normally did when I was stressed. Danced. I moved down onto the floor, allowing my arm to hold my weight as I shuffled and kept my feet in the air above me, almost as if I was flying, weightless.

                The music carried the rest of my jagged movements, picking up the beat with the song and the sounds of my feet pounding against the floor. I shoved my hands against the wall and pushed myself back so that I could jump, keeping my body taut in the air. Once I had landed, all the air rushed through my hair and soothed my red cheeks. I twisted, bending and slamming my hand on the grainy floor with the last drum beat at the end of the songs.

                My breaths rushed to me in pants and I smiled to myself, leaning forwards and resting on my knees.

                “You’re good.” I looked up for the owner of the voice that had broken the beautiful silence. I found myself glancing up at Seb.

                Not liking where my eyes were level to, I straightened, placing my hands on my back as I stretched myself out. I didn’t want to wake up with cramps in the morning. Yep, ouch.

                “Um, thanks,” I replied through my pants of breath and Seb smiled. Well, I say smile, but it was kind of eerie.

                “No problem. Although I didn’t come here to stalk you,” he joked and I smiled, turning around to turn the CD player off.

                “So, what did you come here for?” I asked, wiping my forehead with my towel and resting it around my shoulders.

                “I did come here to ask you out for a coffee but I think that you could probably use a shower first.” He smirked and I grinned, sniffing my armpit.

                “Do I really smell that bad?” I teased and he laughed, shaking his head.

                “Nope but feel free to stop at my Dad’s place for a shower, it’s closer than mine or yours” he said with a shrug as if it was nothing. I, on the other hand, wasn’t too keen on the idea of being in his shower. In the end, I convinced myself that it was the same thing as using Hunter’s and Luke’s.

                “Sure, that’d be great.” I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder as Seb led me over to his car. It wasn’t quite as nice as Hunter’s but it was probably about £100,000 out of my price range. Seb held the door open and watched me as I stopped, his eyes flickering over my stomach in the crop top.

                “Would you prefer it if I sit on my towel?” I asked and his brows furrowed.

                “Unless you sweat through your ass, you’re fine without it,” he replied with a teasing edge to his voice. I felt my cheeks burn as I gave him a sour look, lowering myself onto the posh looking leather seats.

                Seconds later, Seb dropped into the driver’s seat and started the car, listening to the smooth engine roar to life below us.

                “I took you as a motorbike kind of guy,” I admitted whilst fiddling with the straps on my bag. Seb smirked, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

                “Do I look that bad ass?” he asked and I laughed, shaking my head.

                “My dad drives a motor bike. He works in an office. Motorbike does not mean badass, but yeah, you do,” I added. He chuckled, turning the wheel effortlessly onto a neat looking street. There quite literally wasn’t a blade of grass out of place. The houses were like soldiers, standing straight and tall, towering over the road as we drove through. Seb stopped outside one of the biggest houses there, killing the engine.