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I should have known that daring Nala would end up biting me in the arse.
“But I can't just go to his room. What if he yells at me for going in there?” I whine. I have never had any close contact with Chris. Only a nod of acknowledgement whenever he sees me in his home.
“He won't, he likes you.”
My ears perk up at that. “He-he does?” I'm sure I sound so pathetic right now.
Nala rolls her eyes. “Duh, you wouldn't be here if he didn't.”
Although I know she means that her brother trusts me enough to allow me to hang out with his sister, my heart still flutters at her words.
“Now go,” she says and pushes me off her bed.
I scurry out of her room to hide my flushed face from her. I walk to Chris’s room at the opposite side, my heart rate increasing with each step. As soon as I'm standing by the door, I perform a breathing exercise.
He's probably sleeping. He went partying last night. He won't even notice. Gathering enough courage that I can muster, I open the door as quietly as I can. I'm instantly blessed with the smell of the air freshener and a pleasant scent that belongs only to Chris.
The room is dark due to the dark curtains pulled together. But there's a ray of light that sneaks in through the side of the window that is not covered by the curtains.
What I've learned from sleeping over at Nala's is that Chris sleeps like a log of wood whenever he’s drunk. Hopefully, I will be able to get out of here without waking him up.
I put on my phone's torch, deliberately avoiding the bed in search of his laptop. The last thing I need is to see his sleeping face and lose focus.
I find it in the bedside drawer and let out a sigh of relief. I slowly walk to the drawer, and just when I'm about to reach for the laptop, I hear a low groan that freezes me to the spot. My heart is pounding in my throat and blood rushes to my ears.
Please don't wake up. Please don't.
“Who is there?” His deep, husky morning voice echoes in the silence of the room. I hear some shuffling, and the light comes on. He immediately sits up.
His hair is scattered at all angles, his eyes puffy. I have always seen him so perfectly put together but never like this. And yet he still looks so cute.
However, the worst thing is that he's looking at me like he's seen a ghost, and he's shirtless. Exposing his broad chest and defined abs.
My gaze runs over his chest until it falls to where the blanket is covering his torso.
“What are you doing here?” There goes the deep, husky voice again, doing weird things to my stomach.
My eyes flick up to meet his, and I find myself stuttering. “I-I,” I start, but words fail me.
This is so embarrassing. This is not how I envisioned us having a full conversation for the first time. I'm going to kill Nala for putting me through this. I clear my throat and avoid his skeptical gaze. “Nala dared me to bring your laptop to her.”
“Typical,” he scoffs before groaning and burying his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he cusses, and our eyes meet again. His eyes widen. “Shit,” he flushes and covers his mouth.
He probably regrets cussing in front of me. I resist the urge to laugh at his expense.
He points at the laptop. “Just get it and leave.”
I grab the laptop and turn to leave.
“Gianna,” he calls, making my heart flutter. I turned to look at him, wondering if he wanted something or just wanted to talk to me. But there's a frown on his face that indicates that whatever he's about to say is not good.
“Don't come into my room again or anywhere near me.”
I try not to let the disappointment show on my face, hiding the expression with a wry smile. “I'm perfectly fine pretending that you don't exist.”
At the tender age of fourteen, Chris spoke a full sentence to me for the first time. And it all went downhill since then.
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