The Price of being Pretentious

Chapter Thirty-eight: Run

I giggled as we walked through the halls towards my quarters. I am too hyper tonight. I can't seem to get over his face stuffed with pasta. He swings our hands again as we walk, while he pockets his other hand. When we reached the door of the room where I was about to sleep. I turned to him, then tiptoed to kiss his cheek.

'Thank you for tonight.' I beamed.

He shrugged. 'Welcome.' He smiled back.

I opened the door to get inside. To my surprise, he passed from behind me and headed straight to the bed.

'Goodnight, London.' He murmured.

'What do you think you're doing?' I narrowed my eyes while crossing my arms.

'I'm sleeping here.'

I gasped. 'What?! No way. Paris, You can't.' I said disapprovingly, pulling his arm. So he would get up.

This is a bad idea. I pulled as hard as I could, but he didn't budge. I turned around from him like a horse dragging a chariot. I shrieked when he snaked his arms on my waist drawing me towards the bed. My body slammed on cushions beside him.

'Just for tonight, please, let me sleep with you. Promise. I won't do anything. I just want to see you when I open my eyes tomorrow.' He whispered behind my ears, snaking his arms on my waist.

'Paris, your feet are cold.' I said when he entangled them on mine.

'Shh.' He hushed. 'I'm trying to sleep here.' He pulled me closer.

'You shouldn't take off your slippers form–'

He cut me out with a click from his tongue. 'Tch. Sleep, London. Ignore my cold feet. They won't be cold later.'

I sighed heavily, hoping the beating drums in my chest would disappear. I cursed each time his hot breaths would hit my neck.

'If you say so. Goodnight.'

The next morning, Paris woke me up from bed. I opened my eyes and saw Paris with wet hair.

'London, wake up. We have to leave immediately.' He said as he shook my shoulders.

I grunted in annoyance. I looked at the time on my phone and it was not still the time to leave.

'Why? What's with the rush?' I said as I yawned.

He turned to my suitcase and carried it for me as he headed towards the door. I jumped off from bed, hastily wore the slippers he gave me last night. I ran towards him, then held both of his arms.

I looked at him in his eyes. 'Paris, explain to me what is going on.' I firmly said.

He was about to speak up when there was a knock on the door. I ignored the knock. I had no intention of removing my eyes from him until he speaks.

'London, are you there? Please, talk to me.' I heard that it was Scot.

Paris's jaw clenched the moment he heard Scot.

'This shameless jerk! How dare he come here?' Paris said as he rushed towards the door and opened it.

'Paris!' I shouted when he punched Scot's face and fell on the floor.

'How dare you?! You had doomed us all!' Paris boomed, fuming mad.

I don't understand what is going on. I rushed to Scot's side to help him to stand up. But he didn't budge when I pulled him up. He was just looking at me. Like saying some words that I couldn't understand.

'Scot, what happened?' I said calmly, though my heart was racing in nervousness about what was happening.

'London, I'm–' He looked down, then covered his face. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'