EWEW 12: Living With The Bad Boy

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L.W.T.B.B Copyright © 2012-2015 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Rewritten chapter posted - October 30th 2015


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                                          { Chapter 12 } : Living With The Bad Boy

The light buzzing sound from my dream morphed into the drone of my ceiling fan as I roused awake from my sleep.

There was a scent - a distinct earthy and musky scent -that wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I sighed deeply through my nose, inhaling greedily.

Then I registered the crushing weight on top of me, pressing down on my middle and the side of my neck, nearly cutting off my air.

Groaning, I tried to sit up, before realizing my body was tightly locked into place. My upper body was immobile and I moved my legs frantically, kicking aside my bed sheets uselessly. Panic moved over me. Why couldn't I move? Why was I being restrained?

My breaths turned choppy and I titled my head. Dirty blond hair and half-mast emerald eyes took up my vision.

I screamed.

Immediately we were in motion. My waist was seized between his hands and his muscular leg was tucked between my thighs, before he flipped us over, reversing our positions.

Cowgirl style, I landed on top of Sam, knees on either side of his hips and fingers curled in his rock-hard pecs. I couldn't stifle my gasp.

Sam was breathing heavily, too.

I sucked in a sharp breath. "You have a lot of explaining to do," I whispered, shocked... My eyes wide, wide open.

Part me of thought this was a hallucination. The other thought I was losing it. Just to confirm that I wasn't a lunatic, I smacked Samuel on the chest. Hard.

He barked, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" and seized control of my flailing wrists.

Oh, God. He was really in my fucking bed. The events of last night came rushing back to me, hazy bits and pieces, and I wanted to hurl something. At myself for my stupidity or at Sam for his arrogance and charm, I wasn't sure. The only thing I was sure of was this: he should not be under me and I shouldn't be o top of him. Or vice versa. Ever.

"How-" I spoke through clenched teeth. "-are you in my house? Scratch that. How are you in my room?"

My head was spinning with a thousand thoughts. Sam's fingers slipped to my waist and they cinched.

"Through the front door, up the staircase, and across the threshold of your bedroom," he deadpanned.

I don't know why I was still straddling him. This was inappropriate. So, so inappropriate. But I made no move to get up and he didn't make one to untangle himself from me, either.

"I'm pretty sure it's illegal to break into someone's house."

"You still fixed on brandishing me a criminal?"

Holy shit. Something about guys' voices when they woke up - all raspy and sleep glazed - turned my insides to a fluttering mess. I bit my lip. "Once a criminal, always a criminal."

Sam gazed at me from below, dark eye bags gathered underneath his green eyes. "Relax, I had keys that I was given two days ago."

I didn't hear what he said. I was more focused on his jaw, peppered with a few days worth of growth. Even half mussed and rumpled, he looked perfectly put together. So masculine. So sexy.

Wow, backpedal on that thought, Anna. I moved on top of him and suddenly stiffened when my core brushed along his.

My face exploded in heat at the feel of his morning wood. I accidentally slid back on him, in a vain effort to remove myself from him, and it caused my fingernails to painfully dig in his chest. We stifled matching groans.

Sam held me hostage, his brawny arms caging me when I tried getting off from on top of him. Our gazes connected and a moment of understanding (and embarrassment, of course) coursed between us. I sucked in a sharp breath as a thought hit me.

"What do you mean you have keys?" It just kicked in. It only just fucking kicked in and I started feeling panicky at the realization of his words. "S-Seriously, what are y-you doing here? You didn't h-have to go through such extents to bring me back. I-I w-would have been okay on my own. I-I'm s-sure Layla or - "

"Calm down, Anna." His warm hands cupped my shoulders and shook me slightly. Tingles shot up my arm at the contact, kill me now. "I couldn't just leave you here. You were all tired and drunk, and murmuring cute shit that I had no idea about. Your friends were too busy puking so I did what I had to do. Tucked you in then crashed on your bed by mistake."

He was so sincere and genuine in that moment that I couldn't say anything... Nothing but, "Thanks, Sam. I...appreciate it."

He chin-jutted in response, his fingers absentmindedly running down my arms. Goosebumps rose in their wake.

My next words had me frozen all over, awaiting a response that I knew I wouldn't like. "But you never told me why you have spare keys to my house."

"Anna." Sam interjected calmly and I closed my eyes at his soft, patronizing tone. "Why do you think I have keys?"

No, no, no. It couldn't be. I clutched my head at the spur of a new headache. Deep inside I think I already knew the real answer to what he was saying, but I wanted to dangle onto this branch of hope just a little while longer.

My shoulders sagged and I was defeated. "Because I-I handed them to you last night from my clutch when you brought me here... and you accidentally fell asleep... on my bed... now it's time for you to go h-home?"

The blazing look in Sam's eyes didn't help; if anything, it only confirmed my suspicions, causing my stomach to churn. He bit his lip and ran his hands up my arm to cup my shoulders again. "You're only half wrong."

Tell me I'm completely wrong. "Tell me this is some kind of joke," I all but pleaded with him. Because then it would mean that this was all for nothing. The promises that every time I'd walk away from him, from what he represented to me, was for good. It was all for nothing.

Of all the people, it couldn't be him. Not him. It didn't even make any sense.

"Your mom gave me the spare keys."

Everything came crashing down in a whirlwind. There's only reason why my mom would give him keys. There's only one reason why 'Rafael's' phone was blaring with text messages from Joshua Brown. There's only one reason why a Northwind Panthers football jersey - so broad it could only fit Sam's muscular shoulders - rested on the back of the recliner in the guestroom. And there's only one reason why I distinctly remembered a mop of dirty blond hair when I'd spotted our new house guest slipping a warm afghan on top of me, two nights ago when I was sprawled on the couch.

"What's your name?"

Sam looked at me like I'd lost my marbles, and in that moment, maybe I'd had. All I knew was that everything went to shit.

"I doesn't matter." I jerked away from him, angry that he wasn't telling me and angry because I already knew. I laughed sarcastically. "All this fucking time..."

Sam sat up, too, worry lines marring his otherwise perfect features. But in that moment, he looked drained of this all, exhausted and tired even.

"Tell me one thing. Who's Rafael?" Speaking lowly, I pinned him with an accusatory gaze as I stepped off my bed. This entire thing was a clusterfuck. He must have known he would be staying here with us. He must have known. "Some sick, twisted version of a funny joke - "

"Would you pull your head out of your ass for a second and breathe?" His face contorted in an angry grimace. Good, that made two of us. "Stop acting like this is my fault."

My mouth slacked. Disbelief etched across my face.

Sam cleared his throat when I remained motionless. He ran a hand through his sleep-disheveled hair. "Rafael's my middle name. I'm part Italian."

Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful. I staggered away from him, my head swaying and stomach rolling with anxiety-inducing thoughts. Whenever I think things are turning around for the better, life pivots around and kicks me back down. The joke was on me.

I sought distance from this boy, not knowing that with every passing moment, he was being drawn closer with every step. It was just my luck. Fate was a fucked up thing.

"You said you'd leave me alone," Those words were a last feeble attempt at creating some sort of barrier between Sam and I. Even to my own ears, the sound was pathetic and childish. Hopeless. "After last night, we were never supposed to...you said you'd... I...we...walk away..."

Sam's eyes narrowed a fraction and a beat passed as we stared at each other. No words were needed. I could feel the anger and confusion rolling off of him in waves. His words were a harsh sound when he spoke again, "Why are you so opposed to me? You keep putting me in this bad guy role and I seriously don't know what the fuck to do. I thought we apologized last night and got over this shit. So why are you being like this?"

My eyes fluttered closed and my mouth pressed into a grim line.

Because the chances of my heart opening up and messing up are too high. Too big. You're exactly the kind I need to stay away from. I never learn. I'm not strong. I know it. I'm weak.

The hard tone never left Sam's tongue. He swung his legs off the bed and rose in one fluid motion. "Don't act like this is my fault. I had no idea of this arrangement until I was here with all my shit."

I sucked in a sharp breath. He didn't know. I didn't know. He'd be living with us. He'd be living with us for the next three fucking weeks and I'd have to suck it up.

"What's wrong?" he spat, getting in my face.

Nothing. Everything. Damn it. I backed up again, willing myself not to get intimidated by him.

Feeling my stomach churn anew, I clamped a hand over my mouth as a wave of nausea hit me.

Behind me, Sam sneered, "Something I did?"

Everything around me spun and I fumbled with the doorknob. "More like something you said," I barely managed to mumble around the bile, before I headed straight for the bathroom to be sick again.

I'm prone to always falling for your kind, Sam. Because I'm weak. Weak. Weak. Weak.

I kept chanting that mantra as I puked my guts out in the toilet bowl.

* * *

Living with the bad boy, what a fucking joke.

I looked at my reflection, disgusted, face and neck covered in droplets of water in a vain attempt to get rid of last night's makeup. Black smudges under my eyes still stained my skin. Closing the faucet, I dried myself off with a small face towel.

This time Sam didn't help me as I vomitted.

He watched me heaving into the toilette bowl, then brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth with a stony expression. He stood leaned against the doorframe, big arms crossed in all his moody glory.

"Are we going to have a problem?"

I wanted to ignore him. But that was impossible, given his size and sunshine-and-rainbow personality this fine morning. "I don't know, you tell me." I threw the dirty towel in the hamper to get away from him.

"If I knew the answer, I wouldn't be asking you right now."

Bright personality, I tell you. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers, "Can we try-" and exhaled roughly "-to be civil with each other for two minutes?"

He hiked a shoulder and shrugged in an asshole manner - a manner that was very 'Samuel Adam' like. One that every knew and was accustomed to.

Not the one I'd feared - the one I'd gotten to know by chance. The tender and caring side I'd glimpse in between fleeting moments.

The one I hated.

Sam combed his fingers through his hair. "We were pretty civil with each other last night."

We were anything but civil. With me bended over and you all but pushing up... all your glory against me... yeah, no. I was tempted to say, but I didn't.

"Then can we continue to, Sam?" If we were stuck living with each other momentarily, being civil would be the last of our worries.

But he wasn't answering my asked question. No. His eyes, like the pervert he was, stayed glued on the dip of my low neckline, where my cleavage peeked. His gaze tracked lower to where my dress ended.

Refusing to blush at the suggestive gleam in his eyes, I furiously tugged at the straps of my dress and pulled down the hemline of my dress so it somewhat covered more than the tops of my thighs.

Snapping my fingers in front of him a couple of times, I tried to drag his attention away from my goodies. "Beer boy. My eyes? They're on my face. Not in between my chest or legs."

Last night was a temporary slip. There would be no more ogling between us.

He wasn't ashamed. In fact, he cleared his throat and masked his expression with feigned boredom. "I don't see why not," he rasped, emerald eyes void of any emotions. Blank.

The playful flirty side and brief flicker of tease that I'd seen yesterday were gone. Here in that boy's place were... well, the Samuel Adams that everyone knew. Basically, typical asshole. The one I should be witnessing, instead of everything else...

My theory of keeping distance was reinforced when I realized I didn't want to be subjected to any special treatment from him. That would mean something. That would mean more. I didn't want to mean something or more to anyone anymore. Not for a while at least. And, certainly not to a guy like Samuel Adams.

"All right. Cool." I breathed a sigh of relief. Keep up the facade, Sam. Keep it up.

Once the words were delivered, a weird sense of awkwardness crept in. I didn't know what to do with my hands and I began fidgeting on spot, in my own home, in my own bathroom.

Then suddenly, he said, "Get out."

I almost gave him the finger. "E-Excuse me?"

"You heard me." His expression was hard, features set in stone as he kicked off the door and strode into the bathroom. Taking up my air. Crowding me.

Backing up, I snarled. "That's not being civil."

Sam reached for the hem of his shirt, and I had a déjà vu from last night when he'd nearly stripped to show me his tats.

I gulped and fought the heat threatening to blanket my face.

He paused and canted his head, brows drawn together and forehead creased, as if lost in thoughts. "You're right, Anna." Then he flashed a menacing grin. "But I'm not really nice. And I'm shitty at keeping promises."

I recalled him saying something like that to me once.

"You don't say," I muttered, completely peeved that he was pushing my buttons and all-but kicking me out of my bathroom so he could get naked and shower.

He didn't spare me a glance as he gathered a towel from the cupboard, shaving kit from underneath the sink in the cabinets and shampoo from the shelves. And then... I was even more annoyed because his stuff was already mingled with mine and it was getting more and more obvious that he would be living with us.

I whirled around, away from him, and bent down to retrieve my fallen scrunchie. That was until I heard a disturbing groan from behind me.

Quickly straightening, I faced Sam and pinned him with a murderous look when I realized he was blatantly checking out my ass. As if last night wasn't enough.

"Damn," he murmured, running his hand over his open-mouth as if in awe, still not looking at me. "You may have the ability to irritate me like no other, but that's a mighty fine ass, Barbie."

A mixture of a cry and growl escaped my mouth as I pulled off my four-inch stilettos in a fit of rage, ready to castrate him right there on spot.

I was stopped short when Sam raised his hands defensively and winced, walking back until he reached the edge of the tub. "To being civil?"

"Fuck being civil at this point." I shot my heel at him.

He laughed darkly and caught it with one hand before it could smack his chest. "God, this is far more easier than I thought."

I stayed rooted, breathing heavily before realizing he was not worth it. Squaring my shoulders back, I spun around to wobble away (since I was only wearing one heel now). He decided to open his mouth again to piss me off.

"You gonna bend forward and give me another show like last night, Barbie? A$s pressed into my lap, t*its dangling in my face?

The other shoe went off. My stiletto hit the side of his face and I prayed to God that it would leave a mark. Never had I been so embarrassed and angry all at once as right now. "You son of a bitch-"

Sam tossed his head back and barked out another laugh. "Don't sweat it. I can return the favor. Give me a second and I'll strip naked for you."

Angrily, I reached forward to shut the door just in time to see him rub his cheek. The water turned on the second the door slammed shut.

Behind me, another door cracked open. The widened blue eyes of my little brother welcomed me. They widened even further as he took in my rumpled appearance.

Teddy bear in hand, he asked in an innocent voice, "Anna, is that your new boyfriend?"

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A/N's:  Questions: leave me your thoughts on Sam's gloomy mood, Anna's resistance to Sam and their living arrangement! (Our girl is totes hell bent on not falling for this blond-haired, green-eyed giant)


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