Beauty and the Badass {Undergoing revisions}

3 : Bad Enough For You

((Hola mi amigas! So here I am, finally presenting to you the third revised chapter of B&theB. I'm really sorry if it took a long time @_@. 

College is killing me. Don't forget to ComVo! :D

Song: Bad Enough For You by all Time Low))

Evan

By two in the morning, I was tired of waiting for her to come to. She was out for nearly five hours and the only communication I’ve had with anyone that wasn’t unconscious was when Asher came in to tell me he talked it out with Noah. I didn’t ask how it went nor did Asher go into details.

By five, I nearly threw a bucket of water over the girl. Asher realized what I was up to though and stopped me before I could do it.

“But she’s on my bed!” I argued stubbornly as Asher dragged the bucket out of the room. I knew I was contradicting my earlier arguments but I was sleep deprived, annoyed and my back was starting to hurt from trying to settle down on the sofa.

The idea of throwing her out the window was starting to become an option. Maybe I should have dumped her at her house all along. It would have saved me all this trouble and the full use of my bed.

“You started this,” Asher pointed out. “You might as well finish it.” From the tone of his voice I was starting to think he knew there was more to this than just a random attack.

By six, I gave up and surrendered to the exhaustion. If she wasn’t going to wake up, then fine. She was going to have to deal with sharing. I pulled my shirt off and roughly tugged the covers from her body. I rolled her around until she was balanced precariously at the very edge of the bed and I tried to ignore her sleep talking as I tried to get some sleep.   

Vegas

It was such an awesome dream. I never, ever wanted to wake up.

In my dream, I was lying side by side with Mason, his face inches from my face with his cool breath against my skin as he gazed at me with so much intensity, it was almost like he could look right into my heart and know he’s been in there for so long. I watched, breathless, as my eyes traced the curve of his shoulders, the strong line of his jaw, his lips—oh God, his lips—his nose, his tanned skin, his eyes which were as grey as storm clouds and his hair a which was as black as night.

Wait, hold up and rewind. Did I say storm clouds? Hair as black as night? Immediately, the sweet dream didn’t feel so sweet anymore and my breath came out in shallow surges as I realized that I wasn’t gazing at my dream guy.

Little by little, I felt myself being drawn out of sleep until my eyes fluttered open. Everything from the night before came rushing back and I held back a groan when I remembered my epic fail moment with the pepper spray. Who the hell was stupid enough to mess up like that? Oh. That’s right. I was.

My eyes still stung as I blinked blankly at the ceiling.

This was not my ceiling. The ceiling in my house had peeling paint and had glow-in-the dark stars stuck to it from when I was seven and stupid and believed I could hitch a ride on ET’s bike and hightail out of earth. This one had a varnished sheen that looked expensive. I couldn’t make myself look anywhere else except the ceiling.

The cold numb feeling I usually got when I was scared or nervous started creeping into my hands the moment I realized I wasn’t on my bed either. My fingers curled around the bed sheets, the kind that hotels usually used and I went rigid when my arm brushed against skin. Not my skin. Definitely not my skin.