the bet → brad simpson | ✓

18

"I'm sorry, okay?! I know I shouldn't have spied but you know. . . put two and two together and you get—"

"Three!" Tristan shouts from the back of the car and I try not to laugh. Brad had a face full of no emotion and was staring out of the front window as he drove.

"No, you get two," I roll my eyes. "If you don't want me to spy then just don't be so obvious that you're up to something."

"You do realise I'm not mad, right?" Brad chuckles, turning the corner. "I'd have been the exact same. . . I should be apologising!"

"Why should you?" I ask, confused and he bites his lip, pulling to a stop as we reach a red light.

"For not beating Jace to a bloody fucking pulp after what he said about you," Brad replied.

"You're not gonna get all soppy in front of me, are you?" Brad turns to hit Tristan because of his remark, but instead the lights go green and he drives on after the car behind us hits his horn. "Take me home, children."

"Just 'cause you're older doesn't mean you can bully us," Brad says.

We go quiet so I message Connor and James to see where they are and they've already left. Brad drops off Tristan at his house before driving us back to his house.

I jump out of the car, walking up to the door and opening it. Brad joins me a moment later and waits for me to take off my shoes.

"Hey you two," Anne comes in and smiles. "Me and your father have a business meeting tonight and we know how much Brad hates them so you two can stay here if you want? Work on that project, perhaps?"

"Sounds cool," Brad nods and Anne nods before going upstairs to change. "Have you packed for Hawaii, by the way?"

"Uh. . . no? Should I have?" I reply, confused as we walk into the front room to begin our Netflix marathon, not doing out 'project'.

"We leave in three days, Tas," he rolls his eyes, grabbing the remote and switching on Netflix.

"That's plenty of time to pack!" I reply and jump next to him on the sofa. His arm was lazily swung over the top of the couch, whilst my head rested on his lap, getting comfortable. It was completely normal for us to be in the position, since Brad takes up half the sofa and I want all the sofa for myself.

"What are we watching?" Brad asks as he scrolls through the options on Netflix. I've watched most of the shows and films. We decide to watch Scream (the TV show, it's so much better), and I grab some popcorn from the kitchen before joining him again in the lounge.

We eat and watch in silence, until I lunge over to get the popcorn that was on the small table next to Brad and I accidentally shift and put my head on his. . . you know.

"Crap, sorry," I quickly jump off and run my hand through my hair and he gives me a weird look at my actions. "You might have an STD on your pants."

"Unlikely," he rolls his eyes and I sit back down, on the other end of the sofa. He shifts uncomfortably. "I'm gonna get some more popcorn."

"I'll make myself a drink," I say and he nods, letting me go into the kitchen first. I open all the cupboards until I find the cups, obviously on the highest shelf and I can't reach.

I turn around, biting my lip nervously. Should I ask Brad for help? No, he's busy getting food. His bare back was facing me and he looked like he wasn't moving, though he was probably pouring popcorn into the bowl. I turn back around and attempt to reach the glass, but failing as I step onto my tiptoes, desperate.

It wasn't until I heard a small chuckle and a chest against my back that I knew Brad was looking at me, let alone behind me. His hand runs up my arm and over my hand until he grasps two glasses and brings them down. My body twists and I face a smirking Brad, and I give him a shy smile. I look at his lips and then back up at him, only to see him mirroring my actions.

His face slowly edged towards mine, my heart quickly pounding in my chest as he does so, then he pauses.

Looks at my lips one last time.

"Water or coke? We have nothing else, really." He turns around and I mutter water, feeling oddly disappointed.

➳

I was awoke at exactly three forty two by a loud bang coming from the kitchen. At first, I didn't take notice until it happened again.

I stand up, quietly moving out of my room, but getting pushed gently against the wall. Brad's in front of me, his chest only a centimetre away from me. He looks down at me, his minty breath on my face.

"Were you just downstairs?" He asks and I shake my head. We silently walk into my room, both confused.

"I thought it was you? Or your parents?" I shrug and he flicks my light on, closing the door behind him with a slightly panicked face.

"My parents are staying at a friend's place tonight," he says. "That means someone else is here."

"Holy shit," I say quietly before grabbing a baseball bat from under my bed. I packed it for when I first moved in, incase Brad was a pain in the ass—don't ask.

"I'm not even gonna ask," Brad says and I give him a sarcastic smile. "Just follow behind me, alright?"

"I'm the one with the bat. . ."

"And I'm the one with the good punch," he says. "Your point is?"

"Never mind. Just go," I say and he opens my door, flicking off my light and I follow him silently down the stairs. My heart hammered against my chest as we heard shuffling in the lounge.

Brad stops, spinning around and mouthing wait to me as he turns the corner. I don't hear anything, and I'm not sure if I should be assured or worried.

"Oh. It's you."