Chanel Parker: She went from looking like a kid to looking like the most eye catching girl in the world. Everyone wanted her. She's sweet and attractive, but if you cross her line and give her a reason to piss her off she won't be that innocent swee...
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As I stand there staring at Chanel she looks at me not being able to control her laughter, she shaking from the fact that I'm drenched in spoiled milk, glad this fucking amuses you Parker.
But you can't get mad at that, I mean for fucks sake she is fucking gorgeous. I really want to know what fucking underwear she wears, if they are thongs or the regular ones that cover the ass. You know, I usually call them the granny panties.
What the fuck? Why did I say that.
As I clench my fist eyeing her I glare at her so she knows I'm serious when I say these next few words.
"It's on"
After taking another shower I finally hop in the bed with her seeing her in a whole different attire of clothing. As I lift the blanket up to put my body under it her body tenses as she moves farther out into the corner of the left side of the bed.
"What are you doing Dean?" She questions keeping her back facing me
"Getting into bed after having to take another damn shower because someone fucking decided to wait till I got out of the first one to fucking spill expired milk on me"
"Oh come on, you can't lie Walton, it was funny"
"No it wasn't" I glare
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The sun beamed down into the window of the room and into my eyes. I groan at the sudden light in my face. As I continue to fully wake myself up I realize that I was spooning Chanel once again. But this time she didn't wake up during the night to yell at me to move. She just stayed there peacefully sleeping into my arms.
Does she know? Well you know that we are this close?
I should move.
Yeah I should definitely move.
But I don't. I stay there with my arm around her and my head buried in her neck. She smells like vanilla with a hint of coffee. I don't know why but that smell pleases me. It's such a unique scent, not many girls wear something like that.
