Hooked On Your Love (Editing In Process)

Chapter 9

Hannah

"Oh, that feels so good," I say groggily, placing my head on my pillow. It was so freaking soft. I was about to go back to sleep when I heard someone next to me say,

"You're absolutely right."

At first, I thought I was going nuts due to my aching headache, but I felt their arm shift slightly. I instantly panic and  try to jump off the bed but trip on the blanket. When I am about to fall to the ground, I try not to hit my head on the nightstand but fail majorly.

"Yep, that's going to leave a mark," I say to myself, or so I think.

"Yeah it is. How the fuck do you manage to fall about ten times every day?" I hear someone reply angrily.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?" I ask, taking the blanket from around me and try to look for the nearest weapon.

I guess the person had woken up when I fell. I still couldn't see who it was because the lights were still off, but I could make out that they were huge.

"Who the hell are you? I promise to god I will murder you if you try anything. Try me, bitch. Try me." I warn in a shaky tone, scared to death.

They begin getting out of bed. "Relax little lady." I learn the person is a man by the strangely familiar, deep and raspy voice.

"Back up. I will hurt you son of a bitch.'' I didn't cuss a lot. Only when I was angry or scared. Which was right now. Scared was understatement. I was terrified.

I grab the lamp on the nightstand and back up as he moves forward.

"Hannah, drop the lamp before I have to tackle your small ass. And believe me, I can." I get even more scared of his threat. Mostly because he knew my name.

"Look, I don't usually hurt people or even talk to them, for that matter. But I will hurt you. You already are-" I am cut short when I suddenly fall down to the ground.

"I told you I would tackle you, didn't I?" He says.

That's when I take action and start hitting him with my fist, because when he tackled me, I had dropped the lamp.

Take that asshole.

"You fucking stalker!" I shout,  punching him in the back and kicking him as hard as I can. All of a sudden, he claps his hands loudly and the lights come on.

When I see who it is I almost faint, "Brick?" I ask in shock.

"Who?" He responds, out of breath from our little wrestling match.

"What the hell? I knew you were cold, but I never thought you would pull a stunt like this. You sick piece of shit. Why? Was it payback, for me dropping my panties? Please don't flatter yourself. I am not interested in you whatsoever. You are a sick man who deserves to rot in hell. Was this your first time, or have you been doing this forever? Oh, just you wait till I call the cops." I respond, trying to find a phone while he stands there un-bothered. This makes me furious.

He begins laughing, which only angers me even more.

I was about to call the cops and he was laughing. What kind of sick puppy is he?

I am about to hit him but he grabs me and sits me onto the bed. He sits on the side of me and holds my hands as I try to break out of his hold.

"I didn't touch you. I would never even think of doing that to you. This is my house. I only brought you here because you were drunk and Blondy went with David. The reason why you are in my shirt is because you threw up all over me. So next time you wanna call me out of my name, learn the whole story sweetheart." He throws my hands on the bed and stands back up.

"Take a shower and put some clothes on. The maid already has some for you in the bathroom. When you're done, I want you out of my house. My driver will drop you off. I will see you at work, Ms. Brown." After he says this he walks out of the room. I do what I am told, get in the driver's car, and go home.

~~~

It was around three in the afternoon and I was sitting on the couch, still reminiscing about what had happened.

Oh gosh, how could I say all those mean things? I am so incredibly stupid. This is what I get for believing all the rumors. He probably will never speak or look at me again. I mean, I accused him of stalking me, and I called him all those rude names. God damnit, just when he starts talking to me.

Classic Hannah always messing up good things.

I try to stop thinking about it because it wasn't like it would fix anything. It would probably only increase my major hangover.

Let's just pray he doesn't fire or murder me tomorrow. Right about now, I believe the second option is very likely.