Friends With Benefits

Chapter 2

As I opened my eyes, I could see the sun shining brightly through the binders of the window and I could feel my head pounding, it felt like I was going to die, (Well not die, but you get the point.)

I turned in the bed, but I knew I wasn't in my room, firstly my room was painted lavender, not white, my sheets were royal purple not cream and my room wouldn't have a shirtless boy, it would have a shirtless boy on a poster, wait... A SHIRTLESS BOY ????!

As if my mind had just registered that I was lying beside a shirtless boy, a very attractive looking boy that was completely & i mean COMPLETELY shirtless, I kicked him off the bed.

" The fuck!? " He yelled, gathering himself, as he pulled himself up.

" I'm sorry, why are you shir—
did we — you know — did we do it? Am I preggers? Did we use pro- "

Before I could finish my question he cut me off,

He was annoyed, I could tell in his tone — in his body language.

Annoyed or mad that you kicked him off his bed ? Which do you think ? Both.

" No we didn't do it, I came back and told you I couldn't find Rebecca, your friend... you know her ? Yeah, her and you said I wasn't supposed to leave, I was supposed to stay with you and that's what I did, " he explained,

I think annoyed and mad were the right options. He looked tired and frustrated. As though he had a long night.

" So why are you shirtless? " I asked, still not getting why he was shirtless,

" So I was supposed to sleep with my shirt on? " He looked at me as if I made no sense what so ever,

I wasted no time arguing with him — "whatever" I thought, rolling my eyes, as I looked around for my things.

Damn. My fucking head hurt. Did I get hit by a truck ?

" Okay, so where is Rebecca and can you get me a pill or something, my head is killing me and why is my head hurting so bad what happened? " I asked,

" You don't remember? "

He asked, his hands making a fists and I could see that his knuckles were bruised and as if he realized I saw them he stuffed his hands into his pocket.

What happened to his hands ? I thought , not realizing I was thinking out loud.

" What happened, why does your knuckles look like that? " I asked frightened, I rubbed my temples, my head starting to hurt worst, as I was thinking too much,

" Nothing, you are just hungover and my knuckles, nothing, that's how knuckles are supposed to look I guess, " he scratched the back of his head,

" Okay then if you say so, " I nodded,

" So you don't remember anything about last night? " He asked and I started to remember,

" Yes, some boy gave me a drink, his name was Rick, wait no it was Rico, but it was spiked, you found me didn't you?"

Everything started to make sense, all in that very second, he looked at me — but his eyes would often shift from me, to his knuckles, to the floor. In all my time knowing him, I've never seen him this flushed — this flustered.

" Wait ?! Is that why your knuckles look like that ? cause you beat him up, " as if everything had now made sense. But it didn't , " You beat him up ... for me ?"

I hurriedly took the pills he had given to me and the water. I didn't even realize he was infront of me — hand outstretched, waving the glass infront my face & Tylenol that came in the packet.