"I fucking hate you." I growl, my fists balling at my sides as I restrain from punching his perfect face.
He grins, his snowy hair falling in his eyes as he advances me, his irises glistening with mischief. "Oh, yeah? Come on, Florence. Show me just...
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Chapter Ten
Sex dream—no. Stop.
I sit up in my bed and groan, running my fingers through my messy hair. It has been almost a week since I've had my sex dream and it replays in my head almost every day. Now, today is Saturday, and I have to meet Miah at around six for bonding time.
Fuck you, Coach Ryan.
It is currently two in the afternoon and I am just now waking up. Jessie had me out most of the night and we smoked a little weed, so when I got home, I passed the fuck out. Right now, I keep zoning out at shit and I am dealing with the consequences of a slight hangover. I always get this way after smoking.
"Fucking, JJ." I murmur and stand up in my bed, stretching with my hands over my head. "Oh—" I stumble forward slightly, blinking rapidly to get the blue and black dots to fade from my vision.
Deciding to get dressed and ready for the day, I head to my bathroom and stare at my toothbrush. My fingers fiddle for a moment before I pick it up, get it damp, and put two dots of toothpaste on the bristles.
I brush my teeth quickly and rinse my mouth before heading back into my room. Because we're most likely going to be running around or standing outside, I just grab a lavender GymShark set that I bought with a gift card I got for Christmas and some white socks with my black Nike tennis shoes. I leave my face bare and toss my hair up in a ponytail, not wanting to deal with its mess.
"Kit," I whisper to my sister as I open her bedroom door, the blue and purple colors clashing against my brown eyes. "Hey, Hockey Mouth?" She shuffles over in her bed, squinting her eyes and patting her nightstand.
"I was taking a nap." She grumbles as she slides her glasses on, frowning at me. "What?"
I smile and kneel by her bed. "Do you want me to make you lunch? I know Mom is probably mowing the lawn or lying down for a bit."
"Yes." She grins. "I didn't eat breakfast."
"Kit!" I scold, slapping her arm lightly. "You have to eat three meals a day. You're still growing, Babe."
Rolling her eyes, Kit stumbles out of bed and tries to flatten the rats nest on her head. She follows me down the stairs and hops on the old couch in the living room while I walk through the door frame and into the kitchen.
"What do you want me to make you?" I call out to Kit as she turns on the TV, clicking on Netflix and watching Grey's Anatomy. What the fuck?
