He was the boy on campus everyone strayed from. His looks, his demeanor, his everything was always so dark and formidable. Is there a possibility anyone can change him, or is that who he will be for the rest of his life? Stuck with nameless women, e...
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⇋ "I still can't believe you did that to your knee. How does it feel?" He leant his head closer to mine as he asked. The lack of a proximity between us made me freeze.
"It's still sore, but it's healing."
"It's still sore?" His gray eyes quickly swapped between mine with full concern.
"Yeah. It'll be fine. It's just taking its time." I answered.
"It shouldn't still be sore. I hope it's not infected. When was the last time you made sure to clean it?"
"When was the last time you made sure to clean your knuckles?" I shot back with a fast glance at the injury he possesses on the back of his strong, attractive hand. That I may or may not wish was touching my thigh again.
"I asked first."
"The last time I paid any attention to it was that night." I answered sternly. "Now you answer me."
"I cleaned my hand again after I dropped you off earlier. It's sore though and playing didn't help."
"I told you that you need stitches."
"Why don't you just watch a YouTube video and figure out how to administer them yourself, because I'm not going to a fucking hospital." He tried to snap at me.
"You would trust me enough to do that?" I questioned him as my emotions softened rather than hardened.
"I don't know if it's trust so much as it is a last ditch effort to save mobility in my hand. I need this for things." He teased as a smile spread slowly onto his lips. I began to smile with him and watched as he turned away from me to get the bartenders attention. "Four shots of vanilla Crown."
"Put it on the tab?" The friendly man asked as he turned away to start pouring them.
"Yes. Thanks."
"Are you doing all four of those?" My eyebrows furrowed as I waited for his attention to fall back on me. I yearn for his attention. Any kind of it is ethereal.
"I got one for you," his eyes moved to mine as he informed me. "Good luck."
"I don't need your luck. I'm pretty sure I've burnt off all the taste receptors in my mouth and throat at this point, so I can definitely do more shots than you."
"Oh, really?" He smirked deviously at me before his eyes turned to something else. "Could you add two more shots?" He asked the bartender just as the man had placed the four shots in front of Steele's arm.
"Yep!" The man happily answered as he turned around for a second time. It didn't take long for him to fill up the other two shots and place them before us with the others. Six shots really doesn't sound like much until you see them all sitting in front of you. The fact that I've downed this much alcohol in one sitting before is honestly impressive.
