The Silver Fighter | ✓

Sleepover Pt. 4: A Pillow Fight . . . Among Other Things

A/N: Back to Grace's POV! I hope you enjoyed John's POV. If you did, please comment and let me know. (❤'艸｀❤)

Anyway, on with the story! Enjoy, loves!

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☆GRACE'S POV:

I knew the exact moment John walked into my room. While I was putting the shampoo in my hair, I recognized John's footsteps walk in.

Let's chalk that up to my severe paranoia, shall we?

So, I wasn't surprised when I found him lying on my bed while reading my Pride And Prejudice book.

'I swear to God if he lost my page-'

The minute I walked out of the bathroom, John's head tilted up to see me standing in the doorway with my arms crossed, looking at him unamusedly. However, instead of being intimidated by my expression, when he saw me, he simply did a once over of my fucking body.

Thank fuck I was wearing my towel.

'Bloody hell. Get a grip, Grace.'

I felt...weird after he did that sweep. It was a good weird, but I didn't want it.

I didn't want to feel anything for him.

'Fuck. My. Life.'

I mentally shook my head free of my thoughts and gave John an unamused look.

"I thought I said my room was off-limits." I stated with a raised eyebrow. It was only then that John decided to look away from my body and the way he did that was, he dragged his gaze back up my body while going from my legs to my towel-covered stomach, and finally, to my face, all the while having a mischievous gleam in him eye.

'This can't be good.'

"I was coming to make sure you didn't hurt yourself." He paused and grinned. "Or try to sneak out the window." He added cheekily and I rolled my eyes.

"You have an active imagination." I muttered, still clutching to my towel, praying to God that it didn't fall.

John smirked at my sentiment. "I sure do, darling." He replied while looking at my body again. 

I rolled my eyes once more and snapped my fingers to get his attention.

"Oi! My eyes are up here, perv." I informed while glaring at him. He simply smiled at me lazily.

"But I'm more interested in other places." He mumbled, his gaze going BACK to my fucking legs.

Again.

'This man's got a death wish, doesn't he?'

He obviously has a thing for them which is ridiculous considering what they are.

Let's be real here. I don't have the smallest thighs on the planet and I don't have a thigh gap. Hell, I'm sure if I tried to sit on my father's lap as a fifteen-year-old teenager, I'm pretty sure I'd break his legs along with the chair he would be sitting on.

'What is with guys and liking thick thighs? I'm so confused.'

"Oi. If you look at my body one more time, I swear you won't have any eyes to look with ever again." I threatened, glaring at him. He slowly drew his gaze up my body and to my face which was really warm all of a sudden. 

Seeing my expression, he grinned. "Okay, darling. Sure." He responded, unconvinced. I rolled my eyes, getting tired of our little banter.

"Whatever." I scoffed and diverted my eyes to stare at the pictures frames on the wall above my desk.