The Bad Boy Calls Me Kitten

Chapter Thirteen

After one suffocating hour of detention, I numbly walked all the way home. When I got there, I passed Scar's house. The lights were all turned off and the shades were drawn, giving the illusion that no one was home. No, he probably was. With Nora again, I'm assuming.

I winced as the door slammed against the wall when I opened it with more accidental force than I realized.

A harsh, simmery feeling was running through me. I couldn't describe it. I exhaled a few times to calm myself down. There was just no way I could ever look Scar in the eye again. And this time, I actually meant it.

Fortunately, Marie and my father had left for work. My father was an accountant at the bank, and Marie....I really didn't know exactly what she did. All I knew was that she was some sort of crime investigator for unusual cases. But it was still a relief to have the house all to myself. No doubt the school would phone in any time know, but I didn't plan on answering it.

I climbed the steps and went into my bedroom. It was still a mess from this morning. My face heated up when I noticed a laced bra strap hanging down from one of the drawers. It just reminded me of Scar, and he was the last thing I needed to think of.

I threw the horrible dress off my body and shoved it deep into the closet where it belonged. God forbid I ever think about doing something like that again. The morning's eagerness had long since left. Now all that I felt was shame and anger. At myself, really. How could I embarrass myself like that? I decided to leave all of that shameful bidding to Nora. She enjoyed the male attention, anyways.

I turned the shower on, letting all of the morning's events to wash away from me. The hot water rained down in sheets, leaving me with a small shred of dignity. I scrubbed my face and neck until it was raw. Still, I couldn't shake off the weight of Scar's glare or the feel of Mark's lips on my skin.

When I felt like I was completely clean, I turned it off with a squeak of the faucet. Steam billowed up in wispy clouds, and the mirror was fogged.

I cleared a circle and stared at myself. My hair hung in limp, brown strands. My eyes had lost their brightness, now just a dull blue color. My cheeks were pink from the steam. My lips were already cracking. Even though I looked a mess, I felt better than I had in weeks.

I dried off and dressed in the most comfortable thing I could find. It was a cat onesie, far too large and far too soft. It zipped up and encased me in a wonderful warmth. I pulled the hat over my wet hair. It even had a pair of cat ears that were on either side, lined with a furry soft pink. I grabbed my laptop off the coffee table and loaded the next episode of Doctor Who. While I was waiting, I made myself a cup of hot chocolate.

I settled in between the valley of my pillows and stuffed animals, full prepared to lose sense of reality for a few hours. I was clean, I was warm, and I was happy. I even forgot about Scar.

Until there was a knock on the door.

I continued watching, dismissing it as some noise from the laptop. But then it happened again, more persistent this time. A feeling of déjà vu crept up my chest. Groaning, I placed the mug on the bedside table and ran down the stairs. I opened the door, heart skipping a beat when I saw who it was.

Scar was waiting for me patiently outside. I huffed and crossed my arms, taking note of the angry look on his handsome face. His hair was falling in soft strands across his face, and his red lips were creased down. Scar finally glanced at me.

A mixture of emotions went through his face. Anger, confusion, and his eyes finally settled with amusement. He looked me up and down. I backed into the hallway, protecting myself with the door. I didn't like how he was staring. To make things worse, my current attire just played into his game of calling me a kitten. I certainly resembled one at the moment.