11 - we "talked"

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Friday, September 16th

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Friday, September 16th

My hand is yanked, making my body twist around and I'm pulled down the hallway by Dawson. I turn my head to look back, nodding at Hazel, who's staring at us with concerned eyes.

Dawson aggressively pushes down on the door handle to his room, opening it and pulling me in. My body is pushed against the door, and it shuts loudly behind me. Dawson's cheeks are pink from the alcohol he drank, and he stares into my eyes.

My arm starts to throb slightly, and I grab Dawson's hand. "Let go, you're hurting me."

He looks down at his hand and lets go quickly before looking back up to my face.

"What's this about?" I ask, straining my neck as I peer up at him.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Dawson's voice is almost as low as a whisper.

I break eye contact, looking past his arm at something else in the room. Dawson holds my chin and moves my head, making my eyes lock on him again.

He takes his hand off. "Look at me."

I straighten up. "I'm not avoiding you; we saw each other today. And before that, we were both busy."

He scoffs, not buying my lie whatsoever. "That's bullshit and you know it."

My head tilts to the side. "We kissed one time, okay? How do you want me to act?"

"Like you're not avoiding me." Dawson's furrowed eyebrows soften.

"Fine, I'll stop 'avoiding' you," I say sarcastically. "Anything else?" —I tilt my chin up— "Sir."

"Get rid of that attitude, before I fuck it right out of you."

My brows raise, but I shake off his words quickly and regain my composure. I figure that it must be the alcohol talking. However, his eye contact is telling me that he might not be joking.

I bite the inside of my cheek, debating whether I should challenge him again. "I hate you," I say the only words that I can think of.

Dawson turns his head to the side and gently taps his foot on the floor before looking back at me. "Say that again." He meets my face again with a hostile glare.

I grin. "I hate-"

His hand grabs my jaw with a tight grip, causing my hands to shoot up to his arm, trying to pull him off. We stare at each other briefly, and in a flash, Dawson leans in and kisses me.

He pulls off and looks at me with hungry eyes, asking for more. He blinks a few times, looking away with guilt. "You piss me off."

My hands slowly slide off his arm, and Dawson finally loosens his grip and removes his hand. It looks like he has more to say, but instead of speaking, he backs up away from me.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬Hikayelerin yaşadığı yer. Şimdi keşfedin