𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐲'𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞

22 | 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝐴𝑠𝑠

Never in a million years would I imagine saying I woke up on Victor's bare chest wearing his clothes (including underwear), in a hotel room outside of Wyoming while my alarm for birth control went off. I took one of my pills from my purse. It was the only carry on bag I bought, and the things inside were all that I had.

I twisted the cap on the water bottle, guzzled the liquid down before hearing his vibrating groan shake the bed. "Where are you going?" He patted his hand at the empty spot of where I once laid. He peeked his eyes open, studying my disheveled state. "You look mad."

He sat up, revealing his contoured torso and glowing olive complexion, hinting the deep V extending below his gray sweatpants. He drove his hand through his unkempt black mess of hair with his eyes flickering down my body. "What do you want now?" he grumbled, his voice gravelly from a night of rest.

I felt a shiver course through my body, one that really didn't need to be there. "I'm tired."

"I know," he sighed, reaching forward and tugging on my forearm shielded with his hoodie. He yanked me into his bare chest and I relentlessly fell into the movement, colliding into his build, feeling the obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

"Are you kidding me?" I questioned, gesturing to the hard-on.

He stifled a laugh and remarked, "I remember you being kind of reserved. What ever happened to that?"

"I don't know," I beamed, giggling to myself and shifting over so I could lay on my stomach, partially atop his rippled chest. He was naturally warm and I liked his hand caressing the sweatshirt. 

I wonder if Sullivan has abs. Are they as good as these? Because I could have a Thanksgiving feast on these--Okay, that got weird.

"Whatcha thinking about?" he asked, drifting his hand closer to brush a few lone strands of hair and tuck them behind the shell of my ear.

I could say the truth, how he looks like a fucking porn star, but I choked back my words.  "Can we make-out?" I impulsively questioned instead, lowering my eyes to his naval. "Practice."

He inhaled sharply, his stomach forbidding a release of tension. "Didn't you want your first kiss to be with Corbett?"

"Fuck!" I slapped my palm to the bed comforters. "Forget it."

"No--no, wait--" Victor panicked with a smile about to fall any second. He held his palms up in front of him nervously, shaking his head with slightly frantic movements. "I take that back. Is it too late to take that back?"

I chuckled, placing my palm on his chest and shoving him onto the heap of pillows. "It's the morning. I don't want my first kiss to taste like chicken ass."

"My breath won't taste like a chicken's ass."

I climbed over his legs with minimal covers draped over and shuffled towards the cream white surface barricading the bathroom. I swung open the bathroom door and popped the hotel provided toothbrush out of its case, placing a strip of the paste on the bristles. I slipped the brush into my mouth when suddenly the door crept open and a shirtless Vicky invaded the space.

"I'm really bummed we can't make-out," he voiced with concern, gliding his hand to my lower back, causing my whole body to respond in a sharp jump at the contact. The warm sensation of his body heat prickled and spread as he leaned over me and plucked out the other provided toothbrush.

"We're like an old married couple already."

"Shut up," I grumbled, spitting out my toothpaste and wiping my sleeve (or rather, his hoodie sleeve) over my mouth. "We are going to your grandmothers now and--"