Presley and I have taken to my living room with pizza, beer and small cigars this Saturday night. We go through these phases where sometimes all we want to do is sip wine, eat ice cream and snuggle in fuzzy blankets on the couch while watching romantic comedies. Other times, we just want to gorge ourselves on pizza, chug beer and smoke like fat, fifty-year-old, balding men. Tonight happens to be the latter of the two. Don't ask me why, it's just what goes on around here.
Mom,for obvious reasons, can't tell us that we're not allowed to smoke inside, so we light up our mini cigars and pop open our porters.
We're about to press play to kick off our Riverdale binge when the door bell rings.
"I dare you to answer the door holding the beer and cigar," Presley laughs and says something under her breath that sounded like 'Papa Fallon,' which cracks her up as I walk toward the door, clutching my beer and cigar in one hand, my paranoid, rule-following heart praying it's not an officer.
I swing the door open to find Jayce standing on my damn front porch, leaning against the door frame like the owns the fucking house.
He's wearing a backwards ball cap with an orange Nike tank top and dark jeans, and ugh. He's delicious and beautiful.
The knot in my stomach lurches as he slowly looks me from top to bottom and back again. He smirks and says, "You wear the hell out of that little outfit."
"Thanks," I say with a straight face, "but I actually didn't dress for your viewing pleasure."
I begin to close the door but his hand flies up and stops it.
"What do you want, Solis?" I growl at him, opening the door again so I can glower at his smug smirk.
"I'm-uh," he lifts his cap and ruffles his hair, almost nervously, and looks at the ground for a moment like he's trying to remember why the actual fuck he's standing on my damn front porch. "I'm here for my jacket," he finally says, his fiery brown eyes looking up to meet mine.
"Oh, right," I say, embarrassed that I had just made such a scene over him simply returning to pick up an important article of clothing. "You can, uh... you can just wait here. I'll be right back." I promptly slam the door in his face and run toward the stairs, embarrassed and heated. I collide into Presley, who has clearly been eavesdropping from around the corner.
"Shit!" I yip as my beer almost spills. I glare at her, but she's obviously too giddy with Jayce-craze to care.
"You better invite him the fuck in, Fallon!" Presley hisses under her breath as she runs up the stairs after me.
I rip his jacket off the back of my chair and look at it accusingly.
"Fallon!" Presley pinches my butt painfully hard, effectively pulling me out of my over-analyzing thought process.
"He literally just came to get his jacket, Pres," I say, reminding myself of the truth. He just needs his jacket back. I turn to face her with a serious expression, "That's all."
She pouts and folds her arms, "You're full of shit, and you know it. Invite him in."
"No," I say, determined. "I don't need him in my life, he'd just be a distraction," my voice is matter-of-fact and blunt.
YOU ARE READING
The Senior Bad Boy | ✔️
Teen Fiction"My intentions would be simple," he says with a deep, heated gaze, his warm breath fanning across my face. He slowly moves himself even closer to me so that our bodies are mere millimeters away from touching, causing breathing to become a chore. "M...
