Break Or Be Broken (formally known as Love Me Back)

22 ▲ Bed Peace

I bit my bottom lip and kept my eyes shut.

There was just something about the feeling of pain mixed with pleasure.

"It hurts," I moaned.

Cayson have out a breathy laugh. "Would you like me to go slower?"

I opened my eyes to look into his beautiful blue ones and I nodded.

I gave out a sigh as he proceeded, his hands skillfully massaging my sprained ankle.

After cleaning up the kitchen, we decided to watch some tv downstairs for a while, but then we heard a sound and I thought it was my mom.

You can guess what happened after.

I tried to rush upstairs with the speed of light I thought would come to me but didn't, and I ended up falling down the stairs.

Started from the bottom and I'm still there baby!

Anyway it wasn't my mom... And that fact made me cry more.

Yes. Actual human tears.

Cayson found it amusing at first but then he grew concerned when I was still crying after he carried me to my room.

Like damn. I sprained my ankle for no reason.

Currently, he was massaging the pain away the best he could. But then tragedy came.

He pressed on it too hard and I gave out a loud whimper.

"That hurt?" He asked.

I stared at him blankly. "No, smartie. I just like screaming for fun."

And then he did it again.

I quickly withdrew my leg, screaming 'ow'. "That was on purpose!" I argued.

"I never denied it," he smirked, getting comfortable on my bed.

I rolled my eyes at him and bent my knee so I could reach my ankle.

"I'm going to be able to walk perfectly fine by tomorrow right?" I asked out of frustration.

"Your boyfriend can walk for the both of you. You'll be alright," he said.

Well wasn't he just so reasonable that I would ask him a life changing question and he would answer like a cow.

I picked up my phone, ignoring him, and threw my leg on top his laps for him to continue massaging.

"Why didn't you bring Cassie with you?" I asked as I scrolled through I and Adam's messages.

He sighed, working his magical hands around my ankle. "Taking my dog to a street fight didn't seem like a wise thing to do. Still isn't."

A street fight.

Street. Fight.

So it was an official thing.

I had to drop my phone for this.

I looked up at him. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," he said.

"Have you done it before?" I asked.

He paused what he was doing to look me in the eye. There was no trace of easiness or humor in his eyes. "Uncountable times, yeah."

"Why do you do it?"

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip and resumed massaging my feet.

"Same reason I smoke.. I guess," he shrugged.