(Edited 7/31/18)
(1k? Holy shiiiiiiiii. Damnnnnnn. Okay let me stop. Thank youuu.❤️❤️❤️)
Fast forward three extremely long and semi boring weeks, it's December 23, a Saturday.
Those three weeks went by super slow. Why?
Because Liam dragged me to the gym every fucking day. I officially hate the gym version of Liam because he's super strong and I'm the complete opposite.
He's been lifting weights since God knows how long, and I've been lifting chips and liquor for a while now...
He won his championship fight. Obviously. Word on the street was it took one hit to the temple and the guy was out. Yep, word on the street. I didn't go.
Gasp.
Okay, I tried to go. I really did, but literally as soon as I stepped in, Liam threw me over his shoulder and locked me in his trunk.
No wait, he tied my hands behind my back and locked me in the trunk.
He's an ass.
We've been to the hospital a multitude of times over the week and I've noticed he shuts down whenever he's there.
Everything could be all fine and cheery until he stands outside Lily's door. Poor baby.
I do my best to encourage him and make him remember all the good memories of their childhood.
It's a working process.
"Are you making Tiramisu?" I look up at him after I throw a box of Krusteaz cornbread in the basket.
Yep baby, it's Christmas time.
The tree is up and it looks gorgeous as ever. I'm still in the process of putting up lights around the house and doing all the outdoor decorations.
It's going to be perfect.
"Hell nah. Do I look like a fucking chef to you?" He scoffs, walking down to the vegetable aisle.
I push the cart, rolling my eyes at him. We decided to blend in our traditions for Christmas. Hispanic, Italian, and American food all in one.
I'm super excited because I shall be cooking...I know, surprise surprise. I like never cook, unless it's for me, but it's almost Christmas and I like food.
I'm responsible for mole poblano, empanadas, chorizo with chimichurri, and the mouth watering tres leches cake.
Yes ma'am.
Liam's job is to make chicken Alfredo, Spaghetti bolognese or spag bol, and Tiramisu, but I'll make that instead since he's 'not a chef'.
I pick up a few cans of green beans, putting them in the basket and I blindly push the cart forward when I almost run over a fine ass piece of man.
"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry." I laugh, stopping the cart to let him go by me.
My eyes travel from his legs up to his face and I smile even brighter. Damn. "It's alright, miss." His deep voice says after a chuckle.
His skin is a nice light brown. He has dark brown eyes and the curliest hair I've ever seen. He's sexy.
I take the time to sigh in appreciation of this spectacle and then he clears his throat. I jump a bit and he points to the things behind me and I mutter an 'oh', realizing I was in his way.
YOU ARE READING
The Player in Him
Teen Fiction"Why aren't you scared?" I whine and he laughs. "Come on, you wouldn't dare hurt me with that. It's too risky, and I can get out of this easily, babe." I can tell he's smirking and it's sickening. "Oh yeah? Try." I say confidently and in o...
