[𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓, 18+]
Eric Calloway, the rich badboy, meets Liliana Mendes, the good girl at a party, before senior year. He notices her, and it was love at first sight for the both of them-well, next plaything for him. A kiss was shar...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
SATURDAY NIGHT, I was lying on my bed, exhausted from my school-work and office work—because I've spent this entire week focused solely on my academia for my future.
My future. I haven't really thought about what I was going to do with my life—or where am I heading or what will I being doing for a job?
Because all I could think about was Eric Mateo Calloway.
I've never been with a guy before—I mean I kissed boys during spin the bottle and played some ludicrous teenage games in my former high-school, but I never dated anyone. I was always that girl whose nose was stuck in book, I was never that girl who went to all parties or did anything enthusiastic and such but ever since I met Eric, I wanted to experience all of that. A part of me that wants to experience it all but with him.
I want to live my life with no regrets.
I plug my phone to the charger and switch it on since it died during the course of the day. I opened my Messengers App and saw a couple of texts from Eric.
(Arty boy <3)
Can we talk? It's important. Are you home? Baby? Open your balcony door.
And suddenly I hear a knocking from my balcony door; I race to the door and see tipsy Eric with a bottle of Tennessee whiskey.
"Well, you look rather ravishing." He hiccups, "Nope, you look fuckable." He inspects my attire—I was clothed in my black silk Victoria Secret pajamas, shorts and top.
"You're drunk," I frown. I take Eric by his hand and put a finger on my lip, telling him to be quiet but Tipsy Eric was not quiet—at all. He stumbled into my room, dropping any object in his grasp or sight down. I hauled him onto my bed; which he lain with his hands behind his neck—grinning from ear to ear.
Eric was dressed in black pants, a white t-shirt and boots—he was channeling a Hardin Scott vibe, which I didn't mind at all. I took the bottle of whiskey away from him and Eric whined like a little child about taking his 'alcoholic buddy' away from him.
"Can we fuck now?" he blurts out. I looked at him wide-eyed and he retracts his statement by clasping his hand over his mouth like he said something naughty—which he did.
"No, we are not going to have sex. What we are going to do is talk." I say. I walk over to Eric and pull his leg up to take off his boots. The boy did look sexy with it but not on my bed—that's unhygienic and I sleep there.
"Stop being frisky with me! You are giving me a boner," Eric moans with a chuckle.
I stifle a giggle and proceeded to undress Eric, who was happily too obliged to my commands which were apparently 'fucking hot'. His use of profanity was oddly arousing—it sounded nice off his lips.
