That Stupid Little L-Word:

Chapter Twenty Six:

I clutch my quilt to my chest and curl up into a tighter ball, pleading that my mother will forget that I'm supposed to start school again today and let me be. It has been about a week since the accident --and my status change from single-pringle to I'm-dating-the-hottest-guy-on-Earth, and I'm so behind on homework and school assignments that it's enough to make my concussion come rushing back.

The door to my bedroom opens, and my mother steps inside. She leans against the door frame and I make a little hole inside of my quilt so that I can see her. She folds her arms across her chest, smirking.

"Your boyfriend will be driving you to school today, since I have a doctor's appointment," she says. 

I bolt out of the bed, forget that I'm wearing an atrociously pink cast, and fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. My mother jolts forward and grabs my arm, trying to help me back onto my feet. She lets out a startled laugh, "Are you okay there?" 

"No," I stare at her earnestly, "I have an extremely sexy boyfriend waiting for me and I don't have time to make myself look pretty." 

She rolls her eyes and helps me to my closet. I rummage through my crap and pull on something that is somewhat cute; an oversized burgundy wannabe-sweater --I say wannabe because it's like not an actual sweater, and it's cool enough to wear even in Florida-- with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of low-waist dark washed shorts. My cast free foot sports a bejeweled flip-flop. 

My mother helps me into the bathroom, and I quickly brush my teeth. I drown myself in perfume --and she coughs dramatically to let me know that she disapproves-- and then I yank a brush through my hair. 

"Let's go," I chirp as I hold out my hand to her, balanced on my cast. 

Blue-Eyes is waiting for me at the foot of the staircase, his eyes wide as I approach the first step. We take each step slowly, and I only fall like twice. Blue-Eyes holds out my crutches once we get to his level and I take them from him. 

"Alright," my mother says, as my boyfriend shoulders my backpack. "You kids be safe. Be good. I expect her home around four, and you're more then welcome to stay for dinner, Seth."

My mom totally loves Blue-Eyes now, and it's so funny. She was opposed to the idea at first but now that he has saved my life and all, she absolutely adores him. It makes me snicker whenever they talk, and also cringe, because she's practically planning our wedding.

"I may just have to take you up on that offer," Blue-Eyes beams at my mom, and we walk toward the door, "Your cooking is amazing, Mom." 

Yes, she has even forced him to start calling her mom. 

She pats his back and smiles at him appreciatively before ushering us out the door. We start down the driveway toward his car, and I roll my eyes at him. "Suck up," I tease.

Blue-Eyes winks at me, "Hey, as long as it gets me on her good side. I'm just waiting for her to let us stay at the house alone together. Then we can have some real fun." 

I shoot him a mock glare as he opens the passenger side door to his car, "Are you saying movie marathons aren't fun?" 

He leans in and brushes his lips across my cheek. The contact makes my hear sputter, and I feel my cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. He grins at me, "Movie marathons are fun, as long as I get to cuddle with you." 

I grumble something under my breath and hold my crutches out to him. He takes them, and I sit down in the passenger seat. I grab my crutches and situate them so that they are out of the way, and Blue-Eyes shuts the door before he rounds the car to his side. He climbs in and starts the car. The entire ride to school is silent. 

When we pull into a parking spot, I let out a sigh. "We'll probably see Devon today," I mention, as I unbuckle my seat belt. 

Blue-Eyes expression morphs into something dark, "Don't remind me." 

He climbs out of his seat and walks around, opening the door to help me out. "I don't want him talking to you," he says as he grabs my arm and pulls me from his car, "If he tries, then tell me. We can get a restraining order against him or something."

I make a face, "That's not really necessary. I mean, it was just an accident." 

Blue-Eyes shoots me a hard pressed look, and growls out, "I don't care."

I just roll my eyes. I don't really feel like arguing with him; I can always just make him admit that he's over reacting later on in the relationship. He slings my backpack over his shoulder and then we start walking --as slow as freaking snails-- through the gate and into the courtyard. Miley meets me at the door, and she smiles nervously at Blue-Eyes.

"Hey, guys."

"Hey," I grin at her. I had talked to her a few times over the phone since the accident, and she has slowly begun to accept the the idea of Blue-Eyes and I dating. A few days after the first call, I expected her to apologize to me for Devon or something, but she hasn't even brought him up since.

Blue-Eyes nods at her. Miley and I chat until the first bell rings, while Blue-Eyes shifts around awkwardly beside us, not really paying attention to our conversation. When the bell does ring, he ushers me away and toward our first period. We walk silently through the crowd of people until we hit the entrance to the building. The cold air smacks into us as we walk inside, and I exhale in relief.

Then he pulls me aside, and we stand beside the lockers.

He leans forward, his lips pressing against mine. I jump a little, shocked, and he pulls back with a frown. I grimace, "Sorry, I'm just not good with a lot of PDA." 

His lips press together into a firm line. He nods and voices his understanding, and my stomach drops to the bottom of my cast --where it proceeds to melt into a puddle of gooey mush. I frown and hesitate, balancing on my cast so I can reach out and grab his shirt. "It's fine," I pull him in for another kiss, "You're an exception." 

The corners of his lips twitch up into a smile. "Am I?" he murmurs against my lips. 

I nod feverishly, and pull back slightly, my hands pressed flat against his chest. He steps forward and a hand is pressed against my lower back, forcing my body to mold against his. Our lips meet again, and move together as one. My mind begins to fog as the chaos surrounding us melts, and small beads of pleasure trickle up and down my spine. 

My back slams against the wall beside the start of the lockers, and he pins me against it. My heart flutters as his hands grip my hips, dipping beneath the hem of my shirt to rub small circles. 

Something in the back of my mind screams in protest, but I ignore it, focused on his deliciously soft lips. His tongue darts out and I feel it stroke my lower lip. I hesitate, and his thumbs dip below the line of my shorts, which makes me gasp. His tongue streaks past my lips and begins to massage mine. 

The feeling is absolutely indescribable.

A strange feeling bundles up in my lower stomach, and my hands curl into tight fists --clutching the material of his black, Elvis Presley t-shirt as I try to pull him even closer. 

"Okay," an annoyed voice pierces our bubble of sweet pleasure. "Break it up, you two."

Blue-Eyes pulls away much to my disappointment, his mouth hanging open every so slightly. We both pant and glance toward the source of our irritation. One of the teachers glares at us, her hands on her hips, and growls, "Class started five minutes ago. Get going before I report you." 

I flush a bright red color, and Blue-Eyes apologizes to the teacher. He grabs my backpack and throws it over his shoulder, before snagging my crutches for me --which had fallen to the floor during our hot make-out session. We make our way toward class, and Mr. Fisher tries to lock us out of the classroom. We kind of ignore him and take our seats. 

And then proceed to stare dreamily across the classroom at each other for the remainder of the period.