Bloodstream | Nate Jacobs

Chapter two:

"How come you moved to town?" Nate questioned swirling the liquor around in the bottle.

"My mom wanted to start fresh thinking it would stop me from acting out," I admitted, " But she's fucking stupid."

I let out a small chuckle, stretching my feet out on the bed.

"So you're the typical bad boy in town?" I questioned.

"I guess so," Nate groaned sprawling out on the bed. "So do you want to fuck or something?"

"No. I really don't," I replied, scrunching up my nose.

"You a lesbian or something," he asked, looking over at me with puppy dog eyes.

"You wish," I said rolling my eyes, "I'm just not that easy."

"Every girl is easy."

"I will punch in the dick," I mumbled, yanking the bottle away from his hands.

"Maybe I'll like it," Nate joked, smiling widely.

"Wanna see?" I questioned, holding the bottle to my lips.

"No."

"Figured," I chuckled, taking a sip of the vodka.

Nate sat up straight, pressing his back against the headboard. A confused expression plaster on his beautiful face.

"You're different," Nate said suspiciously, "It's strange."

"Get used to it. Cause you're about to see a lot of me," I spoke, running my fingers through my blonde hair.

"Yah. But you're attractive. I'm attractive. Typically, people like us fuck no questioned asked. And you just threatened to punch me in the dick," Nate chuckled.

"So you going to tell me why you lashed out on that girl in the kitchen," I asked.

"I wanted too," Nate answered quickly.

"We are going to get along just fine," I laughed. "I love to do whatever the fuck I want, whenever I want."

"You're crazy."

"Little bit," I spoke holding my fingers together slightly.

"So what did you do that your mom finally had enough?" Nate asked.

"Arson," I spoke firmly, "Thinking back it wasn't my smartest decision. But what can I say don't piss me off."

"Noted," Nate blurted, a hint of amusement spread across his face.

I remember the heat of the flames as they kissed my cheeks, shades of orange and red dancing angrily around that assholes house. Engulfing the painful memories that lingered inside that damn place. The charges didn't stick though, consider there wasn't enough evidence on who committed the arson. But the evidence that I kept from that sick fuck's room alone was more than enough to put him away for a couple years.

"Can I kiss you at least," Nate whined, sitting up straight.

"Do you ever think about anything other than sex," I groaned.

"No," Nate said bluntly. "It's all I ever think about."

"Of course," I sighed in annoyance. "You're also drunk."

"So, you're just really hot. I imagine you could be a lot of fun," Nate purred, gliding his fingers against my thigh.

"Darling, you couldn't handle me," I hissed back, standing up from the bed. "Find me tomorrow when you're sober. So we can have a real conversation."

"What makes you think I'll go look for you."

I leaned forward, inching my face my face in front of Nate's.

"Because when you wake up your mind will think of me on repeat," I purred confidently, placing my finger underneath his chin.

I pressed my lips against his softly. His hands reached up instinctively, wrapping arms around my waist. He pulled me into him, deepening the kiss, his touch felt different from all the other times I had kissed people. I only mean't to give him a quick kiss, teasing him a little. I wanted was to be mysterious and intriguing but now here I was crawling into his lap like a little child, begging for him to touch me harder. Our lips mashed together roughly, and messily.