daddy issues → brad simpson | ✓

5 - little

BRADLEY

I traced my fingers over her bare back as light snores escaped her mouth. I had woken up not long ago, the early morning sun shining through the curtains that I'd closed last night.

It was soothing, listening to the faint sound of birds singing outside and having the comfort of Pretty Face right next to me.

I didn't know exactly what the two of us were, but we were definitely more than friends. I hadn't spoken to the boys about her yet because they'd say we were friends with benefits. The idea of that never really appealed to me before, it seemed degrading in a sense.

But it fit mine and Charlotte's relationship perfectly.

I didn't want her to think I only spoke to her when I wanted to sex: I wanted to be her friend, someone she could talk to. But I guess if I asked her what we are, we would be friends with benefits.

She stirs awake, looking behind her shoulder to look at me with a smile, "good morning."

"Hi," I breathed out, a smile tracing my lips. She turned around now, the only thing separating our chests now was the thin, white sheets of my bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

I nod slowly, resting my head in her shoulder. If I knew her for longer than three days, I'd definitely say I liked her, but I could say that because I barely knew her.

"Can we play a game?" I mumble into her skin as her arms wrap around my body.

"What kind of game?" Her arm moves up from my torso and soon her hand was playing with a lock of my curly hair. I loved it when she played with my hair.

"I don't know, twenty questions? I wanna get to know you better," my head shifts and I look her in the eyes, but she was confused. "If we're going to keep having sex I at least want to know things about you."

"Like what?"

"Was that one of your twenty questions?"

"If it was, then so was that."

"Alright," I nod with a cheeky grin. "I'll start off easy: favourite type of ice cream?"

"I don't like it," she shrugs, her hand sliding out of my hair as she readjusts the covers around her chest. I wanted to tell her to leave it, it was nothing I hadn't seen before.

"How can you not like ice cream?" I tut and she smiles.

"You have seventeen questions left," she shakes her head playfully. "You're not using these very wisely, curls—and I don't like ice cream because I have sensitive teeth. Ice cream is too cold for me."

"Ask me a question."

"Um. . ." She thinks for a moment. "What are you studying at uni?"

"I'm studying a music course," I reply, smiling. "It's a bit boring sometimes but I love music, so that makes up for it. I love the practical, hate the theory. What do you study?"

"I study English," she replies. "I'm taking a teaching course, too. I want to teach at a secondary school. I'd be one of those sick teachers that everyone loves."

"I hope they don't love you too much, that'd be illegal," I tease and she rolls her eyes. "How many boyfriends have you had?"

"One," she replies with a shrug. "He was an ass, tried to have sex with me but I wasn't ready. I was only sixteen, to be fair. He ended the relationship the same night I rejected his offer. What about you?"

"How many boyfriends have I had? None."

"No, how many girlfriends you've had," she clarified.