It Begins With Us

14.

Alba:

"Jealous huh? You know that's quite an illness." He says, tapping his chin and feigning to possess his great wisdom.

So playfully I pout and nod along. Then without any warning he grabs hold of me.

"So then how about we cure it?" Ryle smirks and then pulls me into the washroom, a stuttering and blushing mess.

-

"Alba." He says with a warning tone.

"Ryle." I mumble pressing more cold water to my lips.

"Alba." One more time.

"Ryle." Same here.

"Why are you trying to get rid of it?" He scoffs and I turn red all over again.

"Everyone will see." I mumble pressing my pink and cold fingertips to my lips one more time.

"That's the sweet aftermath, your supposed to shamelessly enjoy that as much as you did sucking on my lip-" I press my wet fingertips to his lips and he steps back.

"No thanks, swollen and red lips work perfectly with the look I'm going for." He smirks with his red lips.

"Then at least let me get rid of mine, then they'll think you're having some sort of allergic reaction to something, instead of kissing." I mutter and he laughs.

"I'm not allergic to anything." He challenges me stepping closer.

"Then if anyone asks, I'll just say you were smooching with Marshall in the washroom." I grumble wetting my hands and pressing them to his lips again.

"Now that man is what I'm allergic too." He snorts.

He reaches up and presses his fingers over mine, making me press down harder.

"That feels good." He closes his eyes and I smile.

"See?" I say then frown when he pulls my hand off.

"But I really need some nosy people to see me and take a hint." He adds and I furrow my brows.

"Alyssa?" I ask and he steps even closer.

I lean my head back and close my eyes as he leans his forward. Then he quickly ducks and presses his lips to my neck instead.

"I'm gonna have to give you something you won't be able to get rid of so easily." He mumbles and my eyes snap open.

'Shit, a hickey.'

"Ryle I swear-" I start to threaten, but he gets straight to business.

I squeal and struggle and push, but he refuses to stop. I groan in annoyance as he smirks against me.

"There, done. My finest yet." He lets go and I turn to the mirror.

There on my neck, sits a quarter sized bruise. I sigh and grab the top of my dress and shimmy it up sulkily. He snorts and grabs me by the waist pulling me out of the washroom.