Life Of Bayla

|43|

I push open my door slowly and step out, my toes stealthy on the floor. I shut the door as quietly as I can then wince when I hear the creaking sound.

I whip my head left and right and when I confirm the coast is clear, I make my way down the stairs furtively and surprisingly not slip on anything as I walk out the door.

My hand is on the door knob as I try to shut the door noiselessly when I hear my name.

"Shit, Cullen!" I jump. Shutting the door not as quietly as I'd wanted, I frown at him.

"I missed you", he drawls.

Still with my frown in check, I walk up to him. "Why are you here, Cullen?"

His silence and stupidly attractive smile pisses me off even more.

I jab a finger at his chest. "I dont have anything to talk about with you so can you please get the fu-"

Cullen grabs my finger, wraps his hand around my neck and kisses me. My knees lose function and my hands go straight to his shoulders for support.

I feel my heart bouncing against my ribcage as Cullen's tongue forcefully pushes past my teeth and prods my tongue before deftly stroking it. I moan and kiss him back. Damn, he's so good at this! I hate to admit it but he's doing a way better job at this than Zac Efron.

No, what am I doing? He lied to me and kissed Ingrid and damn it, I'm kissing those same lips that have lip locked Ingrid's!

"Wait". I manage to pull out of the kiss, my forehead still against his and our breathing ragged. "This isn't meant to be happening, you-"

"Just one more time". He crashes his lips against mine again and those damn butterflies do their stupid back flips.

Cullen's right hand is wrapped tightly around my neck with his thumb drawing circles on it, his left hand splayed on my upper back, slowly drifting south and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Chills run down my spine. When I try to pull out of his hold, one of his hands slide down my side and spank my ass.

I whimper.

Shit, why is he making it hard to hate him?

And then I smell and taste it.

"Okay, it's over", I say, pulling out finally and taking a few steps back.

Cullen runs his thumb across his lower lip. "What're you moving back for?"

"To keep my distance", I tell him, creating more distance. "You're fucking plastered, Cullen".

"We need to talk". I notice his slur for the first time since he's been here.

"What could you possibly say in this state?"

He shivers when a snowflake drops on his flushed cheeks. "Please".

I want to feel pity but at the same time I don't want to. I dont know what to make of this. "Why are you drunk anyway?"

"I didn't want to stay home so I decided to leave", he slurred. "I hit the bar, got a few shots, kept on seeing your face behind my closed eyes and hearing your voice in my head so here I am".

I honestly couldn't handle Cullen in this state. This isn't the Cullen I know. This isn't the Cullen I'm used to. Keeping my emotions in check, I asked, "Why'd you leave your home on a Christmas night, Cullen?"