My Best Friend's A Girl.

Chapter 10. Don't Fuck With Me.

Andy's POV

Aiden pulls me up the stairs to his bedroom shutting the door. 

He pulls me to his bathroom and sets me up on the counter and grabs a warm wash cloth.

He grabs alcohol wipes too.

"No that's gonna hurt." I whine.

"Maybe you should of thought of that before you went back to the abusive prick." He says.

"I had nowhere else to go." I whisper.

"Whatever Andy, you know damn well you could have stayed here nobody encouraged you to leave. If I remember right I encouraged you to stay." He says sternly at me.

I stick my tongue out at him, and he bites it.

"Don't fuck with me, I'm not very happy with you Andy." He grumbles.

I chuckle. "You never are." 

He shakes his head but smiles at me.

He starts wiping my face off with the wash cloth first. 

"That's cold." I grunt.

"Cry baby." He says and runs it under the warm water.

He gently dabs at my face with it, and I can't help but watch him. 

"Better?" He asks quietly sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Better." I whisper.

He grabs the alcohol wipes and starts cleaning my face up.

I hiss in pain and pull away from him.

"Sorry." He says.

"Like you said, it's my fault." I say.

"It isn't your fault, it's his. I didn't mean it that way, I just really wish you wouldn't of gone back there. If a guy hit's you once Andy even if it's just a slap across the face, you can bet he'll do it again more and more." He says gently dabbing at my face.

Layla comes walking in. "Not going to argue that." She agree's over hearing what Aiden had said.

We both look at her she hand's Aiden a small bag and he takes it tossing it onto the counter.

"Thanks Layla." He mumbles and she nods.

"What's that?" I ask.

"Make up." He responds throwing away the alcohol wipes.

"You gonna do my make up?" I ask him confused.

"I'd rather keep myself distracted taking care of you then going to look for him, cause I'd probably murder him." Aiden says bluntly. "Having to live with the thought of another guy touching you is one thing, but to have to live with the thought of another guy touching you in a way he absolutely shouldn't..." He trails off shaking his head in anger. 

He unzips the bag and pulls out cover up, I push my hair back for him and he rubs it thickly on my face. 

He does my eyeliner and eye shadow too and adds lipstick.

"Done." He says and puts stuff back in the bag I turn around to look in the mirror.

The bruises you can't see them.

"Why did you want to do my make up?" I ask him.

"Cause I don't want to see it." He says irritated.

"How do you even know how to?" I ask him even more confused.

"It isn't rocket science, I used to watch you put makeup on all the time." He whispers as he cleans up around me still standing between my legs.