Guns and Grey

0.7 ⋆ Kiss or Miss

Scarlett's POV

I got out of the shower with one towel wrapped around me and one around my hair, holding the sweatshirt I was changed into last night. A pair of grey sweatpants were placed on the bed.

I put on the clothes except for the sweatpants, contemplating whether to wear them or not. The sweatshirt looked enormous on me as it is. It stopped four inches above my knees and the sleeves were big enough for me to pretend that my hands had been cut off without being caught.

Don't worry though, I am wearing my underwear.

I pick up the pants and exit the room, automatically drawn towards the source of the delicious smell that was now partially curing my throbbing head. I place the pants on the island, still unnoticed by annoying ass person in front of me who surprisingly looks like he clearly knows what he is doing with the food. I quietly take a seat on one of the bar stools and try to guess what he might be cooking.

My eyes involuntarily roam his body. A thin t-shirt covered his upper half, the sleeves scrunched up to make it seem like a sleeveless one. His taut biceps that were covered in tattoos were on full display.

My gaze lingered over each little one of them. Every design was as intricate as the other if not more with a few tiny colourful ones here and there. My line of sight moved down till it landed on his lower half.

Again, this is all happening unwillingly.

Grey sweatpants hung loosely around his waist, ever so slightly framing the shape of his ass. I don't realise how long I have been staring at him like that until he turns around.

"Staring won't give you the power to see through my clothes, Louise."

I scoff looking anywhere but him. "Don't put yourself on a pedestal, Grey. I don't do guys like you." I sit straight and bring my eyes back to his, squinting them faintly.

He comes closer, placing his hands on the counter and leans forward, from the opposite side of the island.

"And may I ask what guys like me do to deserve your rejection?" A faint smirk stretched on his face and his eyes glimmered with amusement and curiosity.

I pretended to study my nails. "Guys who hook up with girls they bitched about."

I look up to see the confusion was evident on his face. He queried which girl but I cut him off saying, "In conclusion, keep dreaming about me looking at you more than a... whatever you are."

"So we are not friends? Why not?" He asks, completely ignoring the former part of my reply.

Elijah leans down, resting his chin on his hand.

"Because... hmm, let's see," I pretend to be deep in thought, looking above his head with my eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed.

I hold up my index finger and continue, "You are annoying," doing the peace sign thing everyone does in photos, "You are a kidnapper," holding up three fingers, "and you are annoying."

I smile sweetly but also in an 'I will strangle you if you touch me' way. He opened his mouth to reply but started sniffing in midair. He turned around and cursed out loud.

The frying pan was engulfed in black smoke which was, obviously, spreading upwards. My eyes directly went to the smoke detector and, "Shit."

The piercing sound of the detector flooded the house. I tried standing on the barstool and shutting it off but it was a mere foot away from my fingertips. I look down and noticed that the island was tall enough.

I carefully stand on my toes on the island and try to reach the button again. The unbearable sound finally comes to a halt and I smile inwardly. I look around to catch Elijah looking up at me but not really at me.