All I see ✔️

8: HOT ENGLISH MEN AND WATTPAD BOY

I hate the motherfucking piece of shit in front of me right now. 

"I am not a gigolo." I turn around and scrunch my nose at his suggestion.

"Then I could fake date you on the campus too, you know to up your reputation." He leans against a bookshelf with his arms crossed and has such a huge smirk on his face. I am talking land-a-million-dollar-business-deal-in-New-York-overnight smirk.

"More like down my reputation," I mutter.

"You don't have a reputation, you scare innocent people into doing what you want them to do."

"And you sleep with them to do it so you're not one to talk." I counter.

"There's a difference Blondie, my way is consensual, yours is a fear-laden path you make them choose."

I snort, "As if someone would ever sleep with you willingly."

There's a split in time when one moment, I am arranging magazines in alphabetical order, and in the next, I am yanked behind and caged by a furious and devilishly gorgeous Aaron Richards. The dichotomy of him has my conscience doing somersaults.

"Tell me something, if you think I am so repulsive and disgusting, why'd you call me here?"

We are inches away from each other and his citrus smell hits me again, making it difficult to speak. He smells of all the things I would never do in my right mind, but the thing with Aaron, is that he doesn't let you think straight.

I try to wiggle out of his grasp but it's futile. He has locked me in, against a bookshelf, from all sides, and since there's no way out, I play along.

"I didn't. It was your idea and because you need my help, now let me go." I spit the words at him, which encourages him to lean in closer.

"Bull. Shit. You need me as much I need you so don't make it a one-way street." He is fuming and his eyes have turned shades darker. The green which is always so fun and light in his eyes is now dancing in flames, and since I am not in my right mind, all I can think about how hot he looks when he is bubbling with rage.

"I don't need you." I grit my teeth.

"Don't be such a spitfire, Alexis, we both know you need something, so maybe it's time you stop giving me a run for my own money and act civil towards me."

We are both breathing hard and his voice is raspy and there's a tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach. I can feel his breath on my face - which is surprisingly like a mint bubble gum, and not, as I had thought, like two days old rotten milk - when he says, "Tell me I am disgusting or revolting, and I will ever show my face again. Am I, tell me Alexis, am I?"

"No, you are not." I cave in immediately and it's scary how such close proximity to Aaron doesn't make me think straight, or rationally and I am starting to act like one of those girls who salivate behind him.

"Look at me," I do and if I wasn't such a snarky ass and actually allowed myself to see him from everyone else's point of view, I would be blindsided by his face too. Ellie once told me that he is part Mexican, which explains the dark hair and tanned skin, and part British, which explains the underlying and slightly different accent. And the hotness. English men are hot, I have seen enough movies to know English men are one of the hottest.

He looks like summer, with the laughter in his eyes - gone now- and the slant of his cheekbones and the fall of his lashes and the unsteady breathing mixing with the erratic rhythms of my own heart. He is so gorgeous but there is also an underlying recklessness in him. I know it. I have seen it. And I should be afraid of it but I am not. 

"You have been driving me nuts for the past two days." His voice is barely more than a whisper and it sends shivers down my spine.

"Good thing it's not a mutual feeling then." Never let the enemy see you are affected by him, even if he feels like the farthest thing from an enemy at that moment.

"Oh?" His eyes have gone from humorous to furious to mischievous all in the span of a few minutes, "So you are telling me, you do not feel this," he traces his fingers lightly across my left arm and I feel the feather-light sensation deep in my bones.

"Or this," he moves up his hand, ever so slowly from my arms and traces my jaw, the movement sending a whiplash of emotions through me.

"Face it, Alexis," he says, as his hands barely outline my lower lips and my whole body slowly starts trembling under his touch, "You can sense the electricity sizzling in the air too, and while you are too invested in how much you hate me to realize that, I am not. And I know it's true because you haven't pushed me away yet."

I swallow a big lump sitting in my throat for what feels like an eternity and answer, "Stop speaking like a Wattpad bad boy, you are delusional ."

The fire in his eyes is back and he spits out his words at me, "Am I? Or are you too stuck up to admit that I have been on your mind as well?"

Before I can answer him, there's a soft rustling of wind chimes and then one second later, a voice calls out, "Uh, is anybody here?"

It breaks my stance and I push away Aaron to stammer a reply, "Y-yes. I'll be there."

I start to walk away but not before he grabs my wrist; I turn around to see his eyes have gone back to the usual green and he is no more smirking or smiling,

"Can we go for lunch after this to discuss your sessions." His voice is soft and there's no trace of the confident man who was so sure there's a chemistry between us.

I nod feebly and free my wrist, all the while thinking about how he called me Alexis and not Lexie.

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