Tutoring the Bad Boy (Zevor)

Chapter 9 - Surprisingly Sweet

I flutter my eyes open as I finally gain consciousness of my surroundings. I'm covered in the sheets of the bed I'm laying on as I finally open my eyes and I notice that I'm not in my room.

I raise my self up, only to gently fall back down to the pounding felt by my head. It's ten times worse than a migraine, more than I could imagine. And the loud music blasting from the speakers downstairs isn't making it any better.

To my surprise and relief, Trevor walks into the room as he enters through the door, the music slowly overpowering my ears and then fading away as he closes it.

He walks over to me with weary eyes, a red cup in one hand, and his other rests in a fist.

"Are you finally awake, princess?" He says obviously knowing I am as we make eye contact before he sits on the edge of the bed, close to my legs.

"What does it look like dickhead, and stop calling me that." I grit at him as a smirk tugs on his lips. "Here. You're gonna need this." He says to me as he gently places the red cup into my hands. Before I even look at it, well before anything I refuse to take it from him.

"Don't you think I shouldn't be drinking? Isn't that what got me like this in the first place?" I ask him as he laughs at me. I remember where I am now, I'm at Lucas's party.

What's so funny? Getting drunk isn't fun. At least not me.

"Hey, you got drunk for a reason. You probably weren't thinking straight like right now. It's water." He tilts the cup to an angle for me to see its contents. Yeap, that's definitely water. Dumbfounded, I take the cup from his hands as he drops two pills in my other hand. Thank God. I needed some Asprin.

As I finish the last of the medication, I notice that Trevor's in deep thought with his hands both in fists. They're turning a lighter color because of how hard he's holding them. I spot marks on his knuckles, indicating that stuff went down while I was knocked out.

"Oh, and sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. I had to take care of someone." Trevor says softly.

"Did he deserve it?" I ask him after my thought process. He looks up at me, as he loosens his fists but not completely.

"Did who deserve what?" He asks back at me.

"Your knuckles are scratched and by the looks of it, I'm guessing you just beat the living daylight out of someone. So, did he deserve it?"

He lets out a light, soft chuckle. "Like you wouldn't believe." He leaves it at that. I hint the fact that he probably doesn't want to talk about it since his response was so minimum.

"What happened? Why does my head hurt so badly?" I ask out of no where, but I'm glad I did, because I needed answers.

"You just hit your head pretty badly, that's all." He says bluntly without making eye contact. Obvious sign someone's lying, but is he?

"Really? Surely I'd have a bump on my head or something for it to hurt this badly." I ask lowly, still trying to process that in my head.

"Yeah, you went upstairs to use the bathroom but on the way back down, you slipped and fell. But just in  case I gave you some pills to help the pain." He eyes me for a few seconds before turning away, maybe just to see my reaction, I guess.

"Okay?" I say in a more questioning tone.

"Come on, it's pretty late so we should get going." He says to me. I nod my head in agreement and lift myself up in a sitting position. The moment I'm finally sitting up, I grab the bucket sitting next me. No vomit comes out like I had imagined when I felt everything rising up into my mouth, so I put it back down.