Wrongly Labeled [On Hold]

Chapter 7

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?" I asked, when he decided to remain quiet.

      The outline of his body moved, as he slowly stood up.

      "Um . . . I can explain."

      Throwing the object I held aside, I clapped my hands together. When the lights flipped on, I caught Aaiden shutting his eyes. I took in a shallow breath when I saw him shirtless. Even though I had already caught a glimpse of his naked torso, seeing it up close was a whole other experience.

      His body definitely wasn't perfect like everyone thought it was. Sure, he had the drool-worthy abs, and the chiseled chest, but I didn't even bother paying attention to those. It was his imperfections that stood out to me the most. Like the small scar running along his right hip piercing, or the harsh red line running across his tattoo on his side.

      Hearing a cough, my eyes snapped back to his face to see his cheeks flushed red. He crossed his legs, shielding his arms across his front. His eyes darted to the floor, as I caught him biting his lips.

      "Um, could you please not stare at me like that? It's embarrassing."

      Embarrassing? Is this really the same Aaiden every girl talks about? He doesn't sound like someone who would ever go near a motorcycle—let alone be labeled as a 'bad boy'. "You know, you still haven't explain why you're here."

      "You kind of, um . . . won the auction."

      Before I could stop myself, my mouth twitched upwards and I was laughing loudly. Was he for real? Did he really think I would believe that? Catching my breath, I stood up straight, and wiped my eyes. "Seriously, did Scarlett put you up to this?"

      "No . . . your name was called."

      "What do you mean my name was called? I wasn't even there!"

      He lowered his head and shuffled backwards. "I-I don't know."

      "If you don't know, why the hell were you shirtless in my bed?" I asked, throwing my hands up.

      "I'm sorry." He gulped, rubbing at his neck. "I thought you were okay with it since Scarlett said you wouldn't mind if I slept in the same bed, and I can't sleep without my shirt off, so—"

      "—wait a minute, Scarlett told you, you could sleep in the same bed as me?"

      He nodded.

      My mouth hung ajar. What in the world is that girl thinking? Why would you tell the guy you're in love with to sleep in the same bed with another girl? Especially if that girl is your best friend? How the fuck does that make sense?

      "Did she bring you here as well?"

      He nodded again.

      "Was she being overly friendly with you?"

      His brows knotted together. "What do you mean overly friendly?"

      "Like, "you're hot, let's make out" kind of stuff."

      His cheeks grew warm again. "That's um—no. Scarlett's like my sister."

      "Sister?" I asked, eyes growing wide. "You actually know her?"

      "Um, yeah? Our mothers are close friends."

       Close friends? What. The. Actual. Fuck. Why the hell did she keep this crucial information from me? "Scarlett Journey Cunningham," I shouted at the top of my lungs. "You have a whole lot of explaining to do!"