The Player in Him

Chapter 40: Rant

(Edited 7/28/18)
     I wake up to the smell of my room. Vanilla and a hint of Liam's scent from the times he has been in here.

     I even have a little section in my drawer that's slowly filling up with his clothes. With a groan, I roll out of bed—bad idea, bad idea—and I take off Liam's dress shirt, folding and placing it in the drawer.

Hangover of the century.

     Grabbing my towel and a change of clothes, I stumble into the bathroom to take a shower. After making sure the shower water was hot, I strip and enter, pulling my hair tie out and letting my curls loosen.

I almost collapsed in the shower, my head is pounding and my eyes are burning. Ah, fuck. No more alcohol. Ever.

     When I wash my backside, I yelp from a burning jolt of pain and I nearly fell out of the tub. "What the fuck?"

     I hurry up and wash the rest of my body and my hair, making sure to wash that first, then I step out. I brush my teeth, then I moisturize myself with lotion, being careful with my butt, and I slowly put on my shorts and a sports bra.

     A grimace plastered on my face, I go to sit on my bed and check my phone—turning the brightness all the way down—but when I sit down, I feel the sting on my butt again. "Shit!"

     Confused, I go back into my bathroom and close the door. I turn around, looking in the mirror as I pull down my shorts. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw what was there.

     I screamed at the top of my lungs, then I wince from the sharp pain in my head. I pulled up my shorts and had a full on fit. The door bursts open and Liam is holding a broom in his hands, pointing the end at me.

     "Oh, you scare me so bad." I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "Remind me not to depend on you when I'm in trouble."

      "Fuck off, I was cleaning." He throws the broom somewhere and comes into the bathroom. "Now why are you screaming bloody murder?"

     I narrow my eyes at him, mustering up a glare and he jumps back a little, holding his hands out. "Did you draw on me or something?"

     He looks at me weirdly before answering. "Did I draw on you?"

     "Yes, Asshole. Did you use Sharpie on me or something last night?"

     "No," he trails off, still looking completely confused. "What are you talking about?"

     "Would you like to explain the words on my ass?" I yell at him and he flinches at my sudden screaming. I hold the side of my head, regretting my decision.

      "What words?" He steps closer to me and I take a step back. "Care to show me?"

     "What makes you think I would show you my bare ass?"

     "I didn't think you would, I've always considered you a bit prudish." He shrugs and I place my hand over my heart, mock hurt.

     "Prudish?" I bat my eyelashes, "I'm no prude. I have morals, and what's on my ass right now totally goes against them!" I whisper yell and smack his chest. He catches my hand.

     "I seriously have no clue what you're talking about, Jasmine. You need to elaborate." He says calmly.

     "Well if you really have no clue, I mine's well show you because I'm no prude." I roll my eyes, then I pull away from his grip, turn around, and I pull my shorts down in one quick motion.

     It's dead silent for a second, before I feel his presence closer to me. "Holy shit," he laughs, then tells me to wait a second and he runs off, leaving me still angry in the bathroom with my shorts down.