Chapter 6

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Chapter 6:

                I woke up when I felt Ashton’s hand slip under the hem of my shirt, drawing small circles on my hip with his fingertips.  I kept my eyes closed, thinking he might stop if he knew I was awake.  He lifted the hem of my shirt an inch or two and stopped, his fingers carefully tracing the bruise on my hip.  My body went rigid; I had completely forgotten that I had it.  “What is this from?”  He whispered.

“I don’t really know.”  I yawned, shrugging it off.  “I bruise easily.”  I added, even though I didn’t.

“Does it hurt?”  He asked, taking his hand away.  I took his hand and placed it back on my hip.  “No.”  I said, burying my face in the crook of his neck.  He chuckled, continuing to trace random patterns onto my skin. 

                He was quiet for a moment and I almost fell asleep again.  “Truth or dare?”  He asked, turning onto his side to face me.  “Truth.”  I smiled, closing my eyes.  “You’ve got to stay awake, Nats.  Open your eyes, babe.”  He demanded, snapping his fingers in front of my nose.  I sighed, taking his hand so he would stop snapping at me.  He smiled, squeezing my hand. 

“What’s your favorite color?”  He asked, making me laugh.  “Really?”  I asked, rolling my eyes when he didn’t respond.  “Red.”  I answered.

“Favorite food?”  He asked. 

“Any kind of pasta.  You?” 

“Spaghetti.”  He answered.  “Favorite board game?  Snow cone flavor?  Brand of shoes?” 

I pressed my index finger to his lips, laughing.  “What is this, speed truth?”  I asked.  I could hardly keep up with his questions.  “I’m still trying to get to know you.”  He mumbled from under my finger.  I smiled.  “Fine.”  He chuckled, kissing my fingertip.  “Battleship, blue razz, and Vans.”  I answered, looking over at him expectantly. 

“I’m up for any game, any time, but I have a particular fondness for truth or dare.”  He said, kissing my knuckles lightly before dropping my hand.  “And I prefer lime snow cones.  I do not like blue raspberry, probably because I was traumatized as a child...”  He muttered, making me laugh as I remembered the picture of us as kids hanging up in his apartment.  “And I also like Vans.” 

He rested his hand on my hip, pulling me toward him.  He smirked mischievously as he leaned in, his lips tickling mine as he spoke.  “Are you ticklish?”  He asked, lightly squeezing my waist. 

“Nope.”  I smirked back. 

He ran his hand down the front of my leg, lightly squeezing above my knee.  I didn’t even flinch.  “Nothing.”  I smirked.

“Everyone is a little ticklish.”  He said, slipping his hand around to the back of my thigh.  I jumped when he flexed his fingers, reaching down to stop him.  “You liar!”  He teased, squeezing my leg again.  “Ashton.”  I warned, trying not to laugh.  “Fine.”  He sighed, dropping his hand. 

“Truth, or dare?”  He asked again, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Truth.”  

“Is your dad even home?”  He asked, looking down at me.  I blushed.  “No, actually, he’s not.  He’s working today.”  I replied.

 “Then why can’t we leave?”  He asked, sitting up.  He stood, holding out his hands.  I took them, groaning as he pulled me to my feet.  “Because if he catches me while we’re out or beats us home, then I’m screwed.”  I grumbled, rubbing my eyes. 

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