boxer [p.jm] ✔️

0.4

Peyton

I tried to relax on my sofa but after hearing Piper's words, I couldn't get them off my mind. I tried telling myself that she was only messing with me to get back at me for something I didn't know I did.

That seemed too much of a way to go, so I just believed her eventually. My phone buzzed on the table, the vibrations sounding a lot scary than it actually was.

It was from Jimin. I sighed, swiping my finger across the screen, to see what he wanted now.

From: Jimin
Hi neighbor.

To: Jimin
What?

From: Jimin
All I said was hi, you can't return a greeting?

To: Jimin
I could've, but it wouldn't have been very nice.

From: Jimin
Hit me right in the heart.

To: Jimin
What do you want?

From: Jimin
Your attention, duh.

To: Jimin
Don't duh me. Other than my attention, which you won't fully have, what else do you want?

From: Jimin
You.

To: Jimin
I'm leaving. Goodbye.

From: Jimin
You to listen to me, I never finished.

To: Jimin
You've got a minute to tell me what you want before I march over to your place and slap some sense into you.

I dropped my phone down next to me, slumping into the sofa. I glanced at the TV cable box clock, squinting my eyes and reading the little numbers on the small screen.

6:47. Piper left at six to go to the store and she should've been back by now. I shouldn't be worrying, as she can handle herself pretty well.

The time flicked to 6:48, causing me to sigh deeply. I gotta go slap some sense into him.

Pushing myself off the sofa, I angrily stormed out of the apartment, slamming the front door closed behind me. I looked directly at his door, freezing when I see him leaning against the doorframe, smirking at my fuming posture.

I marched over to him, giving him a sarcastic grin while he smirked down at me while I wanted to wipe it away.

"You really want to get hit, don't you?", I mumble, folding my arms over one another and taking a step back. He raised an eyebrow, giving me a suggestive stare.

"You said you would if I didn't answer you within a minute," he reminds me, while I growl in frustration. He reaches his hands out, pinching my cheeks and shaking my face. "Don't look angry, it isn't pretty on you."

I shoved his hands away from my face, massaging my cheeks that were now hurt by his harsh squeezing. "I really want to hit you."

"So, do it," he quickly says to me, leaning his face toward my own. He tilts his head to the side, smirking wider when I didn't move. "Scared?"

"Just deciding where it will hurt the most," I spit back at him, narrowing my eyes and furrowing my brows. I wanted him to remember that he needed some sense, not enjoy that he was getting beat.

"Just hit my face, babe," he casually responded to me, watching as I cringed up at the name he called me. I raised my hand up, getting inches away from his face, watching as he didn't flinch when I got closer.