So On

Chapter 7 - I'm A Little Confused

  

   I turned around, away from Brandon's face but it was a futile attempt to even hide because of the damn mirrors. So even if he was behind me, he could still see what was going on in front.

       "I'm waiting," he sang as he folded his arms. He looked ridiculous because of the potato-patterned pyjama set, but I couldn't laugh. Not in this situation I'm in.

     I put on my best game face and smirked at his reflection in the mirror. Here goes nothing then.

     Good bye sane me. Hello crazy bitch.

     I peeled my shirt off, carefully and slowly, enough for Brandon to get impatient. My heart was beating faster every second, knowing how stupid I am for doing this and not stopping when I have every chance to.

     When I was finally standing there in my bra - I'm glad I wore the presentable one today - I turned around forced-confidently and put my hands on my waist, grinning at his expression.

     He swallowed hard before attempting to act cool, just like what I did earlier. His eyes travelled up and down to places I don't even want to mention. A smug grin crossed his face before he nodded his head in approval.

       "I was right," his eyes settled on my chest a little longer, making me want to cover up and smack him. "It was a C."

       "Yeah," I said coolly, resisting the urge to kill him. I'm just so stupid, so stupid.

     Did I just fucking strip in front of him?!

     I put the damned cropped shirt on. It was hanging a bit loosely just above my stomach. I checked myself in every angle, it fit just okay.

     And now for the shorts.

     I decided to be recklessly brave and stupid again. I wanted to do something Brandon couldn't.

     I looked at him slyly before gesturing to my pants. "Help me take this off."

       "S-Seriously?" He stuttered. I smiled while nodding my head.

     Again, he swallowed hard and looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. I gave him an encouraging smirk and that did the trick.

     His hands immediately grabbed a hold of my jeans. I held my breath from the sudden contact, even though I was expecting it.

     He bent down a bit, his eyes slightly squinting in full concentration. He looked like he was diffusing a bomb with that expression.

     I somehow managed to attain superhuman powers at that short moment, because I became too aware of the situation, and my senses intensified tenfold.

     In my head, everything was mute, but I could hear my breathing - his breathing mixed, the blood rushing to my ears, my heart going wild inside my cage and my damn skin - it tingled every time his fingers brushed a part of my exposed stomach, even if it was just a little bit.

     When did I get so sensitive?

     I know. I have to change my body soap.

     And what was taking him so long? I risked a glance to see how he was doing. His expression was still the same. At first, he couldn't undo the button since it was a bit tight, so he pushed his thumb a bit harder on the button.

     My legs felt like they've been shot by a lethal doze of anesthesia.

     Slowly, whether it was to torture me or because he was just plain nervous himself, he undid the button. After that, he pulled the zipper of my jeans down.