alternate feelings || bws

chapter eleven || "effortless beauty"

My eyes fluttered open, thankful that the weekend meant waking up without the blaring of an alarm at a way too early time. I wake up in complete peacefulness and when my body is ready to. I stretch slightly, careful not to knock the body next to me as he was still sleeping beautifully.

I turn over on my left side, coming face to face with Brad who I hate to admit looked perfect. His curls were a mess over his forehead and it may have just been named my favourite hairstyle of his, his eyes were softly closed, his eyebrows furrowed slightly and his mouth parted a tiny bit. He was effortless and compared to him I most likely looked a complete mess.

I outstretched my arm slightly and brushed a piece of hair that was over his eyes out of the way, being gentle enough to not disturb him. I had one of the best sleeps of my life with him here, normally I can't fall asleep straight away and I can't stay asleep; suffering with mild insomnia, but cuddled up to him I was asleep instantly and didn't stir once. It was weird how my mind told me I hated him but my body was saying the complete opposite.

"Are you staring at me?" He asks, his voice groggy and raspy. A morning voice was ever girl's weakness and his accent just intensified the sexiness of it.

I didn't say anything as his eyes slowly opened, a small smile twitching on my face as I stare into his deep brown eyes. Brown eyes were definitely my favourite. His eyes stare into my blue ones for a moment before looking over the rest of my face, a small smile gracing his lips and in this moment I was confused.

I was confused on what I was feeling in this moment, what I was thinking and what I was wanting to do in this moment. I was supposed to hate him, I was supposed to be mad at him and only ever think of him as a complete dick-wad that I literally want to murder half the time. The lad that drives me to the brink of insanity and that used to make my skin crawl just from his touch. Used to.

He looks at me longer than I want him to, feeling like I look awful so I pull the covers over my head and scoot further down the bed but he does the same so we were both situated under the covers as he continues to look over me.

"I think this is my favourite you." He states, reaching over to brush some hair from my eyes.

"What do you mean?" I timidly ask, my Scottish accent coming across thicker than usual.

"Your skin free from makeup so I can see all your freckles, your hair curly and messy and your adorable accent. You're an effortless beauty, Laur, truly the most gorgeous person I have ever met."

There was a doubt in me that all this was a game, all the compliments, the gentle touches and the looks. Part of me was telling me to run a mile and never look back because it was an act and he was going to hurt me. Then there was another part of me that was saying all this was genuine, that he meant every single word and I should let him in and I didn't know which part to believe.

We're not the same but on the other hand we were exactly the same. We were both hurting in ways the other doesn't know, we both had people that claimed they knew us but they had no idea who we actually were, we both had a passion for music and we were both stereotyped; by other people and each other. We were different because he was the boy who had probably fucked half the school, he was bad, he was rude and he thrived on that. I was this virgin who was quiet spoken, the good girl yet had a big fucking mouth and a sense of protection for people I loved. I cared too much and he didn't care enough.

Maybe I could make him care, maybe I could be the one to find out who he actually is or help him find himself. Maybe I'm overestimating my ability but I can try, I want to try.

"You're a totally different person to what you make people believe, aren't you?" I say, more as a question.

"I don't like showing myself, Lauren. You are the first person I feel like I can be myself with, you're not like anyone else."

Perhaps that was a typical fuckboy line, to get the naïve girl to fall head over Louis Vuitton heels. Sadly for him I wear Vans.

His eyes flicker to my lips and I shuffle closer to him, his hand going to my blonde curls. My eyes stay firmly on his as I try to search him, to find a lie, a sign for me to kick him out my bed and throw him out my window but I don't find one.

"Do you want to kiss me, Bradley Will Simpson?" I ask and a smirk meets his lips as he comes even closer to me.

"And what if I do, Lauren Rae McGuiness?" He questions, getting even closer but our lips still don't touch.

Our bodies were pressed against each other, chest to chest and our legs had somehow gotten intertwined. My heart was pounding and so was his, beating at the same rhythm.

I bring my face closer to his, close enough for our lips to touch but I don't let them.

"Then you're going to need to try harder than that." I whisper, bringing my hand to his hair, running my hands through the curls and bringing distance between us once again.

His mouth was parted, the arrogant smile he wore a few seconds ago had somehow completely vanished from his face and I thought for a second he looked disappointed but the look was gone as soon as it appeared, making me doubt it was ever there.

He was playing a game with me and unluckily for him I could play it better.

Their hearts were begging to be with each other, but their heads were fighting a war and neither of them were winning. After all the heart gets what it wants, right?

Hey, considering i missed an update have one today! see u again monday, pls dont hate me lmao

you kissed me and told me you loved me, but baby you wouldn't know love if it hit you in the face