“Eurgh,” I groaned, feeling the throbbing pain in my head before I even rolled over. The light was attacking my eyes through the thin shield of my curtain. I put my arm up, groggily covering my eyes as I shifted to face the wall. I faced a wall alright, a wall of tanned, muscled flesh.
My eyes shot open immediately from their originally half asleep position. Hunter was in my bed. Alarm bells rang in my head as I pressed my hands against his warm skin. I ignored the tingly feeling I got from the firmness of the muscles and gave him a hard shove. He made a grunting sound of protest before his eyes flung open in shock as he tumbled from the side of the bed.
Sitting up, I ignored the spinning from the room and knelt to look over the other side of my bed at my roommate. He even managed to look good sprawled across the floor.
“What the actual,” I cut him off before he could curse me.
“Rat infestation on my bed, I thought that I’d better get rid of it,” I hissed, slowly remembering the events of the night before. Hunter wasn’t wearing anything except from the jogger bottoms that he always wore to bed. He was also wearing an angry expression as he grabbed the side of the bed and hauled himself back up. It wasn’t then until I saw the patch on his upper arm.
That was when it all came rushing back and I pushed the covers back to have a look at my ankle. As predicted, there was an identical patch to Hunter’s.
“Bugger,” I muttered under my breath, leaning back against the headboard. I’d had worse hangovers but it still wasn’t pleasant and the tingling pain from my ankle wasn’t making things any better.
The night before hadn’t gone too well. I’d agreed to Hunter’s deal and we’d gone inside the tattoo shop, although I wasn’t overly happy with what I’d said Hunter had to get if he lost, so I changed it. We’d played a game of rock paper scissors whilst the guy drew up the sketches and it had been a tie by the time he’d finished. When I’d agreed to the deal, I’d hardly expected him to be able to do it that night; they usually wait a few days. Unfortunately for me, Hunter knew the guy in there and because the tattoos were only small, he was able to do them on short notice.
“You can take it off, you know,” Hunter muttered, joining me with his back against the headboard and gesturing towards my ankle. I glanced down at it and scowled.
“No thank you, I don’t want to be reminded of my stupidity,” I paused, looking out of the corner of my eye at him. “I don’t want your mark on me either,” I ground out, remembering what the tattoo looked like. Hunter let out a bark of laughter. In confusion, I turned to look at him and he grinned, pointing to the area on my neck where it joined my shoulder.
“You’d better get some foundation on that hickey then.” I groaned, moving to get up. My ankle didn’t hurt too much but my head pounded so I made my way towards my drawers, getting out my paracetamol.
After popping a tablet into my mouth, I lobbed the packet at Hunter, hitting him in the face. He opened one eye and nodded in thanks before taking another one.
One thing that was haunting my mind was the happenings of the night before. I knew that after getting the tattoos done, we went back to the flat and used the vodka bottle in my drawer, rendering my memory useless.
YOU ARE READING
Bad Boy Isn't My Type... (Published as 'The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Boys)Teen Fiction
"The good girl always falls for the bad boy," he sneered and I smirked. "Well, you're in luck because I'm not a good girl," I retorted, causing a small smile to appear on his face. "Prove it." When Andy Deeks moves away from home to attend universi...