IGNITE

nine.

‹ 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ›

"Fuck."

Standing at the top of the driveway, my eyes narrowed, fixed upon the car that sat at the bottom, an obstacle blocking not just my way, but everyone else's, too.

Since my encounter with Piper in fucking Feminist Theories, I'd been playing a game of avoidance, pulling the cold mask of indifference back over my face, trying to shake off the lingering heat from where her hand had rested on my leg, searing through my jeans.

She'd attempted to speak with me a few times, eyes flicking up when she thought I wasn't looking, her tongue brushing across her lips nervously whenever she caught my gaze. Each time, I'd turned away, faking obliviousness until she gave up. The memory of her touch still burned on my skin, and I fought to push it away, reminding myself who she was—who I was.

Clearing my throat, I spun on my heel and entered the house, not bothering to kick off my worn boots as I made my way down the hallway. I stopped when I reached Piper's bedroom, and sucked in a sharp breath, raising my fist. Forcing myself to keep moving, I rapped my knuckles on her door, the sound bouncing off of the too–quiet walls.

Silence. Unyielding silence. My brows furrowed, and I knocked again.

Nothing.

Grumbling, I knocked once more, raising my voice slightly to be heard through her door. "Piper, get up. You need to move your car."

No response.

"Piper," I growled, irritation lacing my tone. "Move your fucking car. I'm not in the mood for this shit."

Still, nothing.

"If you don't answer me, I'm going to come in, and neither of us will like that."

The sounds of sheets shuffling broke the silence, but Piper remained quiet, and I felt like I was about to explode. "I'm coming in." I snapped, twisting the knob and stepping into the dark room.

Piper laid in her bed, a cream–coloured comforter wrapped around her, her hair splayed out against her pillow in a fiery halo. Soft, steady breathing filled the air between us, her chest rising and falling steadily.

"Piper," I repeated, louder. She shifted, a groan slipping past her full lips, but her eyes remained shut as she twisted in her sheets. "Fuck," I muttered, taking a hesitant step closer. "Piper, come on. Get up and move your fucking car."

Some strangely soft mixture of a grumble and a moan left her, and she rolled onto her side, pulling her comforter over her head. "Don't wanna," she breathed, her voice barely audible.

"I don't care what you want," my voice was a low growl as frustration licked at my insides. "Get up. Now."

She still didn't move, and I found myself staring at the delicate, lace curtains hanging in front of her window, doing little to combat the sunlight that steamed through the cracks, casting beams of light against the walls.

"Piper," my tone was gentler, pleading, almost. "I've got shit to do today, and I can't do any of it until you move your car." I ran an exasperated hand down my face. "Get up, and move your car. The world doesn't revolve around you."

Silence, again, followed by a slight shuffling. Her keys flew through the air, hitting my chest and landing at my feet. "There. You move it," her muffled voice was barely audible beneath her covers and I scowled.

"Fucking hell," I muttered, fighting the urge to drag her out of bed by her ankle.

Instead, I turned, letting out a string of profanities under my breath as I retraced my steps out the front door, slamming it shut behind me.