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"Are you talking to me?" I asked, just to be sure I wasn't dreaming, and this was a case of mistaken identity.
"Of course, silly, I am talking to you," he replied with a beaming smile on his face, protruding his dimples and his large muscular biceps staring sexily at me as he towered over me.
"I didn't know you had any idea of who I am," I remarked, I knew this wasn't the perfect line, but my hands were sweaty, and I was trying not to act nervous as all the hormones kicked in and I was staring straight at his chest which showed from the button-down shirt he was putting on.
"Of course, I know who you are, you and I had math class once together and we also took Spanish,"
"You took Spanish?" I was amazed that a jock like him would be interested in languages, mostly guys like him only understood the language of molly, popping pills, weed, and all the temporary high they could get.
"And French," he added, at this point, I was impressed, and a naughty thought came to my mind, I had the hottest guy in school standing before me and if there is ever anyone remarkable enough to grant me my desired first kiss, it should be him.
"Do you want to go to my room?" I mustered all the courage in me to ask and to my utmost surprise, he said yes.
We went up the stairs to my room, which was filled with a lot of books and science projects, and a little poster of Beyonce, she is my idol.
"What a beautiful room you got here," he complimented, I was surprised by the way he looked at my room with amazement. He gently touched my awards, visibly impressed by them as I was.
"You think it is beautiful, "I asked.
He stares at me for a moment, "Not as beautiful as you," my cheeks flustered by his statement, I lowered my gaze in order to avoid his piercing gaze, he moved closer to me, his fingers slowly sliding up my cheeks and his eyes locked into mine, I closed my eyes in anticipation as he leaned in to kiss me, that was when I heard my door being forced opened and Logan badging in like a wild stray dog.
"What the hell are you doing here," I cried out, "Leave my room," I yelled at him, but he didn't even seem to hear or listen to me, he glared at Jason, his eyes cutting through his like a sword, with spite, rage and fury visible on them.
"I told you to stay the fuck away from her," he yelled at Jason. Wait, what does he mean by he told him to stay away from me?
"I am sorry man," Jason stuttered like a little mouse begging for mercy from its messiah.
"Leave, now," he commanded with authority, as Jason scowled away in fear, trembling like he had seen the ghost of La Llorona.
"What the hell was that Logan, you have no right whatsoever to tell me who I can be with," I yelled at him, my eyes fuming in hatred and spite for him, yet my mind also racing to the fact of how hot he looked being all protective with me. I wanted him to pin me to the wall at that moment and rip off my clothes and begin to kiss me and caress me till I beg him to take me right onto my bed. I was a wild seventeen years old, with raging hormones and the impurest of thoughts.
"I know Mark wouldn't be pleased to know you had a boy up here,"
"I hate you, Logan, I do,"
And there you had it, one of the thousand reasons I couldn't stand him. No, not because he made no guy want to date me because he scared the shit out of them, but because he made me want him so badly.
"I have no problem with him living next door," I finally said, with a feigned smile on my face, trying to act unbothered, yet, hoping I don't barge into his room one day and ask him to take me to his desk.
3
KAYLA
He has only been here a week and I can't stand his presence anymore, especially when he is around me.
He has spent more time in our hours than his, with the excuse that he needed to fix a few things. I wasn't sure exactly what he was talking about when he said a few things because Mark made sure that the room was decorated to his taste.
"I didn't know you cook so well," he complimented with a smirk on his face as we had dinner. Mark was busy on his phone, and whenever he was on his phone, was mostly absent-minded and had no clue what was going on around him.
"Growing up without a mother would make you pick up a skill or two," I didn't mean to sound sympathetic, but I could see empathy in his eyes. He also grew up without a mother figure in his life and an alcoholic dad who was almost always in and out of rehab.
"Well, it also saves a few bucks more than ordering pizza every night," I added.
"That is true, maybe I will have you cook up something for me too,"
"I am not your chef,"
"Who said I wanted you to be,"
