The Bad Boy of Mine

Chapter 26 ll "Who is the girlfriend?"

Zoey's POV

"Zoey Summers."

"Mmmhm."

"Zoey, this is the last time I'm telling you to wake up or I'll be the one castrating you."

"You can't castrate a girl." Whoever this person is, he does not have a nice soul. He has been bothering me for god knows how long and now he's threatening to castrate me.

"Zoey, will you just wake up?"

"No."

"I won't lend you my notes."

"Are you Tristan?"

"Yes."

Shit, I need the notes, desperately. I grumble as I try to open my eyes and lift my head off the table. I keep my eyes close as I sit up.

"Is the lesson over?"

"Are you serious, Zoey? It's been 15 minutes since the lesson ended!" Tristan exclaims. My eyes shoot open. I don't know if it's amusement or disbelief on his face.

Woah, it's been that long?

"Woah."

"Yea, woah. Get your ass out of the seat. I'm lending you my notes for a day."

I struggle to stand up. Mind you, I was sleeping very peacefully, getting disrupted isn't very nice. I rub my eyes groggily.

Tristan hands over a file of notes to me.

"Thank you! You're a really nice person."

"Learn to appreciate me."

"I will, I will. Let's get going."

-

Turns out, Tristan actually lives only a few streets away from mine. After we bid our farewell to each other, I trudge home lazily.

The little nap I took wasn't helpful at all, in fact, it made me sleepier.

Just as I was about to insert the key into the keyhole, my door flung open, hitting me straight on the face.

"Ow ow ow ow ow," I gasp, my hand leaving my side to touch the sore area on my nose and forehead.

"Fuck- Zoey!"

I look up to see Chris looking at me worriedly.

"I'm so sorry, Zoey. I'm so damn sorry."

He looks so contrite, my heart is melting. It's not like you'll see the way guilt is written all of his face, everyday. His eyebrows are creased and his jaw is tense. His lips are pressed tightly together into a frown. All the annoyance and disgruntlement from earlier on evaporate from my mind. How can I stay annoyed with this damn pretty face?

I put my hand gently onto his cheek, his stubble grazing against my skin, tickling it, sending jerks of sensation into my body. Chris closes his eyes and lean into my hand, nuzzling it lightly.

"Let's not fight and please, Chris, tell me what is going on," I plead with a soft voice. Partly because I am trying to hold back my whimper of pain.

"We weren't fighting."

"Semantics," I whisper. 

He sighs, probably decided to resign to his fate begrudgingly and tell me. "Can we at least get your nose and forehead sorted out first?"

-

"Lie down."

I do exactly so. He lifts the ice pack and carefully positions it on my forehead. I flinch upon the cold contact and the fact that it was actually worsening my headache makes me hate it more.