The Boy With The Skull Tattoo 18+ (DISCONTINUED)

5. Die Here In Your Arms

(ELLAH)

"Come out with me tonight?" Emily asked, somehow having gotten into my house this morning.

She was making breakfast in the kitchen while I was using the bathroom a couple doors down.

"No thanks," I said, trying to balance out speaking and brushing my teeth.

"Oh, come on," she whined.

After minutes of torturing my mouth with fresh mint, I rinsed my mouth and washed my face with warm water. I couldn't think of a way to avoid Emily. I knew if I did she would try to find out all the reasons why and cry her heart out.

I strode towards the dinner table. I took a seat and scrolled through my phone. After relaxing on the soft, cushiony chair that supported my fat buttocks, I heard feet coming down the stairs. I looked up to see Drew, still in his boxers. His brown locks looked messy as ever.

His eyes were squinted together. He looked tired, but so attractive at the same time.

He leaped forward and sat on the kitchen counter, turning around to gaze at Emily. She was too busy flipping eggs on the pan to realize that Drew watching her.

"What're you makin'?" he asked.

"Oh, god," Emily gasped, startled.

She turned around and held her breath in. Her hand crossed her chest, trying to balance the pan to keep it from falling out of her hand.

Drew smirked at her. I walked into the kitchen, disrupting any sexual tension before anymore damage can be done.

He was Egypt, glittering in the yellow sunlight; alive, beautiful city of the ancients, the pyramids. It was the city of knowledge and power, written on walls by the early beings before his ancestors. His naked chest was like a tomb, a temple, a Shinto shrine that stood nine feet tall in the woods of Japan.

She was still watching him. He picked up a purple grape from the gift basket Darnell gave me a couple days ago. His eyebrows touched as his taste buds reacted to the sweet natural juices of the grape exploding in his mouth.

I walked closer to Emily, shutting off the stove. The pan was almost overheated, and the eggs were almost burned.

"Crap, Emily, are you trying to burn my house down?"

I waved the stove mittens in the air to get rid of the mist of smoke that covered the pan dimly.

Emily flung herself into a chair violently, watching him. A moment later, she snapped out of her thoughts and disappeared from the kitchen, heading upstairs.

"Next time, put on a shirt," I warned him.

"Why?"

"Because I fucking said so."

He laughed awkwardly.

"It kills you seeing Ems drool over me like that, eh?"

He dashed all the way upstairs before I could grab a cup of freezing cold water and splash it all over his head.