Love, Romance And A Boy (bxb)

Part One

Part One

•••

A sudden wave of dizziness washes over me, and I silently slip out of the warm covers, planting my feet on the plush carpet. I stand and tiptoe out of my room, careful not to make a sound as I descend the stairs into the kitchen.

The night air is cool, and I relish the cold tiles beneath my bare feet. The house is shrouded in darkness except for the silvery glow of the full moon, making everything eerily visible.

I open the fridge door, the soft hum breaking the silence, and grab a box of orange juice. Moving around the island, I retrieve a glass, pour the juice, and take a long, refreshing sip, savouring the tangy sweetness.

Just as I'm about to return the carton to the fridge, a figure appears at the kitchen entrance, startling me. I gasp as the glass slips from my hand, shattering on the floor, orange juice splashing everywhere.

"Shit, Scott," I curse, my hand flying to my chest, feeling my heart pounding. I avert my gaze to the floor and sigh, bending down to pick up the shards of broken glass. "Don't creep up on me like that. It's not funny, especially in the dark."

Scott flicks the light switch, flooding the kitchen with a warm, yellow glow. I squint against the sudden brightness.

"Sorry," he apologises in a hoarse voice, a playful smile tugging at his lips, the dimple in his left cheek deepening. "I wanted a glass of milk. That party was insane."

I chuckle and nod. "Yeah, I can't even remember what happened," I admit, carefully picking up the shards.

Scott runs his fingers through his tousled hair. "Me neither. I think they drugged us," he says, laughing. "I didn't feel you in bed, so I thought you sneaked out or something. And maybe next time, use the light switch and avoid breaking things."

I roll my eyes and chuckle. "Why would I sneak out of my own house at this hour? I prefer the dark. You know, vibing with my demons and all."

He folds his arms across his chest, and I try not to stare at how handsome he looks, all muscles and tan skin. "I don't know," he shrugs his broad shoulders, "just had a feeling. We both know you're scared of the dark, so vibing with your demons might be a bit tough."

"No, I'm not," I deny quickly, glancing up at him briefly — trying to avoid the intense pull of his gaze — in the brightly lit kitchen where Scott looks irresistibly appealing. "I was nine back then. You can't hold that against me. It's not fair."

"Oh really?" he challenges, stepping over the spilled juice and broken glass to grab a glass from the cupboard. "When we were fifteen, you called me to come over because you were scared of the dark. Does that ring a bell?"

"That was..." I trail off, searching for an excuse. "I wasn't thinking straight. But I'm definitely not scared of the dark. Every kid has fears, okay? Now go back to sleep, you're being an ass for bringing that up, knowing full well we vowed never to speak of it again."

There's no malice in my words, easing the tension that seems to rise. At least, for me. I have to ensure he never discovers how I truly feel about him. It's forbidden.

In the process of picking up the glass pieces — very smart of me to do that with bare hands — I manage to cut myself and curse as the blood oozes out of my hand.