Southern Belle

Ch. 11 The Bet

"Ash, you're distracting me," I groaned while swatting his hand away from my hair. I was attempting to do my homework, and he was twirling my hair in his fingers while I wrote. Normally, I wouldn't have minded, but his touches made my mind cloudy.

He placed his hands onto his thighs and lightly chuckled. A smirk appeared. "I'm sorry. I just miss you so much."

I sighed and replied, "I miss you, too."

He kissed the top of my head gingerly before grabbing his phone out of his pocket. Ugh. This totally wasn't 'taking it slow,' but I didn't have the heart to tell him that.

I stared back at the sheet in front of me. I had been sitting on this damn couch for six hours, and I finished most of my homework. Of course, about two thirds of my homework was crap; I didn't know any of the answers, and I couldn't find any help online. Therefore, I just filled in words and circled randomly. 

I definitely wasn't going to fail.

Not.

I rubbed my forehead in frustration. I honestly didn't have a clue, and I desperately needed a break. My books forcefully were pushed off of my lap onto the floor, creating a loud smack. Ash looked up from his phone, and he smiled softly.

"I can't look at this anymore. I'll finish it tomorrow." 

"That sounds like a good idea. Now we have more time for this." His head leaned in towards mine and crushed our lips together.

My head was spinning, and every single thought in my mind was being erased. Our lips continued to move together, and my pulse raised. The beat of my heart was the only sound I heard. My hands had a mind of their own, and they trailed up to Ash's hair, closing any space left between us. I faintly felt my back crashing into the cushion seat of the couch.

After a few minutes in that position, he began unbuttoning my jean button, and my eyes widened in realization. I crashed the palms of my hands into his chest, forcing him off of me. My fingers weren't the most dexterous, and they fumbled with the button of my pants. After a minute of trying to close my jeans, I gave up and looked towards Ash.

His breathing was quick, and his cheeks were a bright pink. His black T-shirt, now slightly torn, was lying across the room on the floor.

When the hell did his shirt come off?

I couldn't help but stare at his abs. My face probably resembled the face of a dog drooling over a piece of meat.

God, what was happening to me?

I was turning into a Bimbo. Soon, I'll be wearing pink all of the time and saying things like, 'swell,' and 'that's hot.'

"So," I said enthusiastically and grinned widely, "did I take off your shirt? Or are you showing me your stripper moves?"

His eyes rolled, and his fingers began flattening out his hair. I bit my lip nervously, hoping he would find my joke amusing. The fact that he was unresponsive told me he didn't.

Who stuck a stick up his ass today?

"What's your problem?" I questioned, quite annoyed that he was so moody. My arms crossed under my chest, and a small groan escaped my lips. "Tell me."

"You keep leading me on. That's the problem," he stated angrily. His eyes narrowed. Instead of being a bright blue, they were a cold, hard black. Chills ran up and down my spine.

"I'm not leading you on. I told you I'm not interested in dating."

"I totally believe you," he declared sarcastically. He moved his left hand from himself to me, implying our make out session. "You know, because making out with me really tells me that you just want to be friends."