Chpt 6 : Late Night Spice

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•warning, there is a little spice in this chapter. If you're uncomfortable with heated moments between a guy and girl, then don't read•

The end of the school day comes quickly. I sit at the back of the school, having just finished running. This time, I limited myself because my legs are already sore and cut up. Don't want to add to that pain. I stretch out on the bleachers, eating an apple, and looking at the bright sun. It's a comforting sting. Very normal. I brush back my hair, now a messy French braid, and I glance down just in time to see Xander climbing up to me. In that split second I get to choose whether it'd be better to jump off the bleachers or wait for whatever he wants to talk to me about..

I choose not to break my legs. "Hello my Princess" Xander says with a smirk. I raise an eyebrow at him, "Princess? Aren't I more of a queen?" I question him, making him look thoughtful for a second. "No..Not yet at least" he answers, brushing a fake dust particle from my shoulder. I lick my lips, "what is that supposed to-" I start but I flinch as he rushes forward all of the sudden, an arm on either side of me, his face practically touching me. "H-hey, ever heard of personal space?" I question him, blushing.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, glancing through soft hazel eyes at my bruise. His voice went back to its dark, deep state. It's oddly sexy, and terrifying at the same time.  He runs a finger over my cut on my lip, "because I swear to you, I will end them for hurting my Princess.."

Somehow his comment makes me blush even more, and I'm unable to speak. What do I say? "I-It was an accident" I stutter, my eyes wide. I feel like I could tell him everything.. But I can't. I don't want anyone to get hurt.

"It was a cliff" I say a little more confident. But one glance into his mixed orbs tells me that he doesn't believe me. I quickly try and cover myself up, "really! You don't have to believe me, but that's what happened..I tripped over my own legs, remember how sore I was yesterday -from running, that's all that happened. I must've smacked my face on the way down to the pond" I say, staring straight into his eyes. He pulls back from me, a disappointed face plastered on. I didn't notice until he pulled back, but he smells like Citrus..

"How stupid do you think I am..?" he questions, not looking at me. "I never said.." I begin, but he stops me with a hand to my lips, pressing hard, but not hurting me. "Juniper, I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. Whoever hurt you like that, you're safe from them, right? If you were still in danger, you'd let me know, right?" he asks me, a pained look on his face. I give him a nod. Sure..I'm safe..

He stands up, "I'll protect you whenever I can.." he says. Then he leans down and presses his lips to my forehead. "I promise." My cheeks grow hot again, and I feel my lips part. Wow. His lips are soft.. I quickly shake my head, clearing it. "Thank you Xander, I'm safe, and I'm fine" I whisper, not even believing myself. I stand up, clearing my throat. "I've got to go, I have chores I need to do" I say softly, giving him a solid fake smile.

Then I leave, jumping into my red car once I reach the parking lot. I didn't see any of the other guys. Or Bri. I get home and immediately run into the garage. I grab our teal paint, a paint brush (not very big), my stereo, nails, a hammer, and the extra wood. Then I head into the backyard and prepare.

I turn on my stereo, playing "Sixpence None The Richer". I sing along to Kiss Me and repair the fence, growing hot in the blazing sun. It's a tantalizing task, I manage to gain splinters and bruise and cut my fingers.

***

4 hours later I'm done repairing it and painting it Teal. Mom likes weird colors like that, she prefers to stand out -and start trends. Like that'll ever happen. I walk inside, wiping sweat off my forehead. Lemonade sits on the table, and I gladly take a cup and pour some in, downing it in record time. The coolness of the drink feels very good on my dry throat. I look down, noticing the note next to it.

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