Resisting the Player -- [Completed - Unedited]

Chapter 21: Feels Good

Whatever my parents have to tell me, I, in absolutely no way, want to know.

Today's Sunday, which is when they're supposed to tell me whatever it is they're supposed to tell me, and I am sneaking past their bedroom door to go downstairs and leave.

When I came back downstairs from my nap yesterday--which was at around noon--they were tense. Uncomfortable.

Like they had something to hide.

Which they do, but they could be more subtle about because, come on, they're completely terrible at hiding things.

If I wasn't so worried about what they wanted to tell me, I'd be ashamed.

I press my ear to their door to pick up on the muffled voices.

"We're going to go tell her now, Mandy. We can't wait any longer. She needs to know. We promised--"

"That we would tell her when she turned eighteen, I know," she interrupts. "But--"

"She deserves to know, Mandy."

Silence, followed by a sigh.

"Alright. Let's do this."

Rustling comes from behind the door, and my eyes widen before I jump away from the door and rush down the stairs.

I hear the door open and then footsteps above my head, heading in the direction of my room.

My eyes scan the living room quickly as I search my brain for a plan.

My eyes widen as I grab a piece of paper off the TV stand and quickly scribble a note to my parents with a pen I found on the floor.

Fuck me. Where the hell am I supposed to go?

I feel my phone vibrate in the back pocket of my jean shorts, and I grab it to see a text from Autumn.

Who lives with Aaron!

Yes, yes, thank you, God.

I drop to my hands and knees to look under the couch, hoping I left a pair of my shoes there.

My eyes land on the black slip-on Vans Gracie threw at me, and I reach for them, my hand closing around the both of them when footsteps start to descend the stairs.

"Cass?"

Fuck.

I quickly put the shoes on--with regular socks instead of no-shows, cringe--and grab my house keys from the coffee table, running towards my door.

I open it, enough to the point where I can just barely slip through, close it softly behind me, and then I make a run for Aaron's front door, hoping my parents don't choose to look out a window.

There's only one car in the driveway, and I hope it's Aaron's, because I'm not looking to converse with parents right now.

I pound on the door, practically vibrating where I stand, and when it opens and a groggy Aaron--complete with messy bed head and a sleepy look in his eyes, along with his bare chest and sweatpants hanging low on his hips--comes into view, I hear my front door open.

I jump onto Aaron, causing him to fall on his back with his arm wrapped around my waist as I straddle him.

He looks up at me, eyes wide with surprise, no longer looking the slightest bit asleep, and his eyes slowly travel down my face and to my shoulders, and then my boobs--which is when I remember I'm wearing a tank top--thank God I'm wearing a bra--and then they move down to my bare legs.

Heat rises in me, rushing through my veins, and I feel my face--along with my chest--grow warmer, and I knew they're turning red.

Aaron swallows as he slowly looks back up my body and meets my eyes. "Hey, Cassie," he says, his voice sounding strangled, like he's having trouble breathing.