The Bad Boy is a King

Day 10.

Sunday.

"Guess who?"

I answered, "My mom?"

He took his hands off of my eyes and frowned. "Your mom can't do half the stuff I can."

I turned around and handed him a cup of coffee. "I really don't need these images in my head this early."

"It's okay to admit that you think about me naked every second, babe," Thomas mentioned, sipping his coffee.

I smiled. "I don't have to admit anything that's not true."

He took a step closer to me. Our breath was mixing. I could almost taste his peppermint breath. Thomas grazed his fingers against my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. I did not say anything nor did he.

He dropped his hand and I breathed out air that I didn't even know I was sucking in.

"You had something on your cheek." Thomas shrugged and opened the fridge.

"Oh. Um, thanks," I replied and self consciously reach a hand to my cheek.

I could still feel his hand there.

"It's nothing. I didn't want you to embarrass yourself anymore than you already do."

"What a selfless hero," I muttered as he shut the fridge.

"There's nothing to eat," Thomas whined.

"Then go back to your house,"'I told.

"I thought we were supposed to be hanging out today," he said after a few minutes.

"I don't remember that. What I remember is you sneaking into my hous-"

"Hey Annabelle?" Dad asked, walking into the kitchen.

"What dad?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait, who's this?"

"That's Thomas, dad. He used to come over a lot when we were younger."

"Oh, that's right. Sorry. Hi Thomas."

Thomas gave my dad a smile. "Hi Mr. Parish."

"He was actually just leaving," I informed.

"Why don't you invite him for dinner tonight? We can go to that new restaurant. I heard it's really good."

"He has plans," I answered, quickly.

"Does he?" My dad asked.

"Um." Thomas looked at me for what to say.

I sighed. "We have to work on a school project but I guess we can go."

Dad grinned and started to walk out of the kitchen. "Great. I'll go tell your mother."

"Officially meeting the parents." Thomas said excitedly.

"You've already met my parents before," I mentioned.

"Don't ruin it." He frowned and took a step closer to me. I took a step backwards.

"Ruin what?" I asked in barely a whisper.

Thomas brushed my hair behind my ear, his fingers still lingering.

"Where did my -" Anthony started to say but gaped when he saw us. "Uh, sorry. I'm just going to go."

Thomas dropped his hand. "It's not what it looks like."

My brother started to say, "I-"

Thomas stumbled and grabbed his head.

"Hey, are you okay?"

His face was still contorted as if he was trying to hide the pain. "Um, yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yeah, Thomas. It didn't look like nothing," Anthony told.

He blinked his eyes a few times before answering. "I said yes."

"I was just asking. You've been getting these a lot lately. Not to mention how you forget what we're saying to you. You like. . . zone out or something."

"Annabelle, I said that I'm fine. It's probably from our game, that's all. Some guy just hit me really hard. Nothing to worry about, I promise," Thomas reassured although, I really was not believing him.

"You promise?" I asked.

He took a step forward towards me, closing the distance. I forgot that my brother was standing there watching us. I forgot everything at that moment. I am surprised that I remember how to breathe.

Thomas picked up my hand in his. "I pinky promise," he whispered and wrapped our fingers together.

Anthony coughed and I dropped my hand, this time. Thomas ran his fingers through his hair.

"This is awkward," my brother said and left the kitchen.

"Want to finish our project?" I asked Thomas.

"If by project you mean sex then of course, I'd love to."

I smacked his arm. "You were really getting good at not saying innuendos. Now you just had to ruin it."

"Babe, come on. Don't look so disappointed in me."