Imaginary Boyfriend

Chapter 31

                “I’m bored.”

                I glanced up from the paper I was marking to roll my eyes. “Yeah, and I’m busy and trying to get some work done. Get lost.”

                "No. Entertain me," Sam pleaded.

                I raised an eyebrow. "Do you want a punch in the face? Because at the rate you're going at, that's what you're going to get." Suddenly, I smiled. "Does that sound entertaining enough for you, Sam?"

                Sam pouted and it was just too damn adorable. I dropped my eyes back to the essay and continued reading it. He stayed silent for a couple of minutes but it was no use. His mere presence was distracting me. I found myself listening to his breathing. He was staring at me – I could feel his gaze burning a hole in my forehead.

                Sighing, I looked up again. “Stop staring, you creep!”

                A smirk tugged at his lips. “Why? Does it bother you?”

                “Of course it bothers me!” I snapped, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. His smirks tended to have that effect on me. “I have serious work to do, Sam.”

                “But I’m bored,” he whined, drawling on the last word.

                I nodded, concentrating on the words written on paper. Wow, this student was way off topic. How did she get from "what I did on the weekend" to eating disabled rabbits? 

                Sam was talking. I blocked it out until it sounded like a faint buzz in the background. After a couple of minutes of peace, I felt something poking my side. Exhaling sharply, I grabbed Sam's hand and ripped it away.

                "Sam!"

                "Katrina!" 

                I sent him the iciest glare I could manage. I probably looked constipated or something, because it just made him burst out laughing.

                "Just because you have nothing to do, doesn't mean I am so lucky," I said, banging my head against the table. Pain shot through my forehead and I winced, rubbing it softly.

                Sam plopped down on the table where my papers were and started waving his arms and legs about, like what you’d do if you were making a snow angel, effectively crumpling, creasing and possibly tearing them up.

                “Sam!” I shrieked, punching him arm as hard as I could (it did little harm). “Those are my students' work! I can’t damage them, or I won’t be able to mark them!”

                He chuckled quietly. “Don’t mark them, then. Keep me company. I am your boyfriend, Kat, and you’ve barely said two words to me today.”

                I bit back a smile. “Aw. You jealous?”

                “Very,” he huffed, folding his arms across his chest. It was beyond cute – he looked like a stubborn five-year old who wasn’t getting his way.

                “Alright,” I gave in. Rubbing my temples, I heaved a sigh. “I could use a break. What do you want to do?”

                “Well…” he waggled his eyebrows excitedly.

                “Well, what? Spit it out.”

                “I’ll give you a clue,” he said slowly. “It involves you with no clothes on.”