Southern Belle

Ch.20 Oh My God

*Remember to nominate me for "Funniest 2012"--Belle Wilkes. You click the report button below the cover on the side of the page =) Then, you click the 'What is your feedback' thing and scroll down to "Nominate a story' *

I was warm.

A little too warm.

Yawning, my eyes flickered open and scanned a white room. In the north side, a huge flat-screen television was screwed into the wall. Two maroon red couches, positioned across from each other in the middle of the room, were covered in pillow, blankets, and red solo cups. A coffee machine and a stereo were in the upper-left corner. 

Whose room was I in?

Frowning, I lifted my arms up to remove the blanket from me, but then I realized that I didn't have a blanket; I could clearly see my pale legs down below. Anxiety started kicking in when a word registered into my mind.

Spooning.

My head turned to reveal the victim, and it was no other than Nicholas Monroe.

Oh my God.

"What the hell?!" I screamed while jumping out of his grasp. His hands, tight on my abdomen, caused me to topple over to the ground. When my gaze reached the bed, Nick was staring at me like I had three heads.

"This is so not my fault!"

"You, idiot," I hissed. My hands fumbled around for anything hard and pointy that I could hit him with. After a failed search, I decided to use my index finger to jab him with, "this is your fault! You had to get me drunk! I didn't know that stupid punch was tainted!"

He rolled his eyes and stretched his arms behind his back. He was shirtless, so his tensed muscles were visible for me to look at. Gulping, I averted my stare before a blush could make its way onto my cheeks.

"Don't you ever watch movies? The punch isn't punch. And you call me the idiot," he chuckled, his voice sarcastic and rude. Grinning, he flung his legs off of the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He was wearing boxers. Only boxers. Blue boxers with the letter, 'N,' stitched all over the fabric.

"Can you," I hesitated as the words hitched in my throat, "please put on some pants?!"

He gave me a flat look and sauntered over to my side of the bed. His blue eyes, now sparkling with amazement, looked me over. "What's the problem? You probably saw way more of me last night."

Smacking my head against my forehead, I groaned when I realized that his words were most likely true. A faint blush crept up my face, and I had the urge to run into the bathroom over there and hide. This was so uncomfortable. "I guess you don't have to win the bet anymore," I whispered, disappointed with myself for acting reckless.

The ends of his mouth tilted downwards, and the glow on his skin seemed to fade away. He no longer looked like a confident asshole but looked like a frail nerd now. He moved his legs away from mine so quickly that you would think that one touch from me would give him a disease.

"I'm so—"

A large gasp interrupted his sentence, and we turned around to find Sarah, dressed in pink, fuzzy pajamas, with an ice-cream carton in her hand. Her mouth was to the floor, and Nick rapidly threw a blanket over his legs. "Oh my God!"

"Sarah, don't tell Mom or—"

"Oh my God!" Casey ran in, also dressed in fuzzy pajamas. Her eyes frantically scanned back and forth between Nick and me, and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Nick and I eyed each other, scared that we were going to cause a huge commotion.