Fleur | Eddie Munson X OC

006

Gently, he closes the door again before knocking three times. When I open it, he's grinning so wide dimples have formed on his cheeks. "Good morning, M'lady" he bows at the waist and holds his hand out to me. "Your chariot awaits."

I roll my eyes and sigh, a malevolent reply on the tip of my tongue. When he gives me a look to say, 'oh come on, play along', the hateful words dissolve as butterflies take flight. It's ridiculously cute, so I just go with it. I hold out my hand assuming he'll lead me to the death trap on wheels, but instead he moves it to his lips, and places a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

His lips are velvety soft in contrast to his calloused fingertips. My breath catches in my chest as I watch chill bumps dance their way around my wrist and up my arm, praying I'm the only one to notice.

"How was that?" he whispers, those chocolate brown eyes bore straight into mine.

I swallow the hard lump that suddenly appears in my throat."Better."

He hums a low laugh that sends vibrations down to my toes before his rough hands find my waist, pressing by me, and into the house.

"W—what are you doing?" I ask, my voice cracking at a much higher octave.

Without a shadow of a doubt if he took me into that room right now, I'm certain he could make me say just about anything. I've heard the stories...I know Eddie is experienced in the bedroom.

"I forgot my jacket last night" he answers, grabbing the bundle of leather and denim from the corner where I'd placed it the night before.

"Oh" is the only word I can manage through the fog of sudden lust clouding my sleep deprived brain.

Sleep, that has to be the only explanation for this ridiculous reaction...a kiss on the hand for crying out loud.

Instead of dawning the jacket himself, Eddie holds it open and slides the buttery fabric across my shoulders. "Your cheeks are red from the cold," he mutters, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb against my cheekbone. "Looks like you need it more than me." Then, as if he hasn't completely turned my emotions upside down...he winks.

Thank god he turns just as quickly to head towards the driveway, missing my knees give out, forcing me to cling to the door frame instead of falling flat on my ass.

I repeat...this is such a bad idea.

------⦅❁⦆------

The drive to school is comfortably quiet, save for the metal music and occasional backfire from the rusty tailpipe.

The van's interior is well loved. The fabric on the seats is worn and stained. The dash boards are faded and covered in cassette tapes. The floorboards are surprisingly clean. But the smell...that tantalizing mix of tobacco, spearmint, and cologne is what gets me. I press back into the headrest, closing my eyes to inhale deeply. The scent alone temporarily relaxes the nervous knots growing in my stomach.

"You, okay?" Eddie asks.

No. Not even a little bit.

I open my eyes to the shaggy haired boy watching me intently from the driver's seat. "Sorry" I reply, cupping my palm around the shell of my ear. "I can't hear you over all the shit coming out of your speakers."

He gasps loudly, his fist mimicking a knife being stabbed into his chest. "That has to be the most hurtful thing you've ever said to me, Peters."

Giving him a small but genuine smile I turn back to the window. "Well," he goes on. "You don't strike me as a Madonna, Lauper type of gal." I wrinkle my nose at the thought. "So what do you listen to?"