Four days later and Brad and I have avoided each other as much as possible.
Well, I know I've avoided him as much as possible, and acted like he isn't even in the room whenever he's around. It's partly out of anger, partly out of awkwardness and partly my own stubborn attitude.
That day, the flat is quiet and It seems like Brad and Tris are out so I relish the opportunity I have. My uni application requires more detail and I have to upload some photos of my artwork to it. The best lighting is in the living room so I take all my best sketches in there and get to work.
An hour or so later, I take a break from working on the application and decide to make myself some food. I scour the fridge but nothing seems particularly appetising so I decide that sticking some chicken nuggets in the oven will suffice. I sigh, close the fridge door and turn around, only to come face-to-face with Brad. I jump a little because I didn't know he was even in the flat, never mind hear him come in the kitchen.
"Can you not do that?" I mutter, trying to step around him. His arm reaches out to stop me.
"Can we talk?"
Jesus, the last conversation we had was awkward enough. Do we really have to have another one?
"About?"
"Us"
I scoff at that, "there is no us"
He rolls his eyes at me, "you know what I mean"
"No, I don't"
"Fuck's sake" he mutters under his breath and I know I'm pissing him off. Good, "look, I don't want things to be weird between us because of everything that's happened, I honestly felt like we were just starting to get somewhere, I don't wanna go back to square one just because we... you know... made out"
Christ, he makes it sound like we did something scandalous. Okay, I don't think either of us saw it coming but it was only a kiss.
"And like, that argument we had the other day..."
"We didn't have an argument the other day," I say flatly, "we both agreed that it didn't mean anything"
"Ella-"
"And then you concluded that kissing me was hell"
"That's not what I said though, is it?" He sighs.
"You said you didn't enjoy it" I argue.
"Fuck's sake, Ella" he huffs, slamming his hand against the fridge door above my head in anger, "you know that wasn't true, okay? You know that was bullshit, of course I enjoyed it, why wouldn't I? You're..."
"I'm what?"
"You're... you're beautiful"
I stare at him as, for one brief moment, my heart melts like warm butter on toast because no guy has ever called me that before. Then I conclude that he must be taking the piss out of me.
"Oh fuck off, Brad" I mutter, scowling at him and giving his chest a shove to get him out of my space so I can leave before he tries to take the piss out of me any more, "you're such an arsehole"
"Ella, I wasn't joking" he frowns, curling his hand around my wrist and gently pulling me back before I can take another step to leave, "why would I-" he cuts himself off and looks at me through sad eyes, before his hand slides down from my wrist and his fingers lace between mine, "Ella, trust me, you're beautiful"
"I don't trust you" I mumble, not being able to look into those sad brown eyes so instead opt for staring his chest. Obviously, as it's covered by a jumper, it's not as distracting as his face. I notice the corners of Brad's mouth curl upwards in my peripheral vision.
"Have I ever given you a reason to not trust me?" He asks softly, which stumps me for a moment because I don't think he has. Not one I can think of right now when his warm hand is still wrapped around mine and he's stood so close that I can smell the lingering musky scent of whatever aftershave he's used.
"I'm sure I could think of one..." I say quietly, trailing off because I swear Brad's moved closer. There are only a few small inches between us now.
"If I wasn't distracting you"
A ghost of a smirk sits on his lips.
"You're not distracting me" I mumble, just as his fingers come up to brush against the underside of my jaw.
Fuck, I wish he'd stop distracting me.
"Just tell me if you want me to stop" he hums in a tone just above a whisper, his nose brushing softly against mine.
Tell him, Ella. Tell him to stop. Do it. Now. Before he kisses you and you end up in an awkward situation like you did last-
Oh.
Too late.
Brad's mouth is on mine, just gentle presses and soft touches at first. The whole situation feels different from last time. Maybe it's because we're both completely sober so there are no excuses; we both want this to happen. Whatever that means, we can figure out later.
As we kiss, I feel Brad's hands on my waist, pulling my body closer against his. My hands graze over his clothed torso and when they reach his chest, I clutch the thick material of his sweatshirt between my fingers.
Brad presses his mouth firmer against mine, our lips moving together at a slow but steady pace. Brad's arm snakes tightly around my waist, pulling my body flush against his and I realise that we've never really been this physically close to each other; I mean, we've never even hugged. But we certainly haven't been close in this way, with his arms wrapped so securely around me that I've never felt safer.
As Brad's tongue tangles with mine, I let one of my hands wander upwards, over Brad's shoulder and round to the back of his neck where my fingers sink in between the soft curls. Man, I don't think I could ever get tired of running my fingers through Brad's hair. He lets out a small groan that is caught in my mouth and his fingers dig a little harder into my sides. He walks us backwards until my back hits the door of the fridge, and in turn, I tug harder at his hair.
"Fuck, Ella" he groans against my mouth, and Jesus, I didn't know my name could sound so sexy. It ignites tingles in my core and as Brad pushes his hips harder against mine, I can feel his erection pressing into me. He pulls away from my mouth and I almost whine at him to come back, but he dips his head and starts to press wet kisses against the underside of my jaw. I let my eyes flutter shut and my head falls back against the fridge, a shallow breath escaping my mouth.
He stops his kissing and drags the tip of his nose along my jawbone before I feel his forehead rest against mine. I open my eyes to see Brad's just centimetres away from my own. Those big brown eyes...
Just as Brad's lips brush over mine again, the sound of the front door opening causes us to freeze. It must be Tris and if anyone's going to walk in on me and Brad kissing, he's the worst fucking person to do it. I give Brad a forceful shove away from me, to which he chuckles but I don't appreciate the light-hearted stance that's he's taking on the sudden seriousness of the situation. He should be stressing out, like me.
Tris bursts into the kitchen just moments too late to see anything out of the ordinary, thank the lord. I'm still stood in front of the fridge and Brad is now far away around the other side of the island, I'm guessing to hide the boner in his jeans from Tris's view. His hair is all mussed up and his lips are swollen and fuck, he's looks sexy as hell. I pray to every god that Tris doesn't notice the telltale signs of our make-out session.
But Tris isn't even looking at Brad. He's staring at me with a very confused, angry look on his face, all flared nostrils and gritted teeth. I start to think that although we've just got away with not being spotted kissing this time, maybe my brother has somehow found about the first kiss. Why else would he be so pissed off?
"Ella, I swear to god, you better have a good explanation for this," he says sternly, waving a piece of paper around that I've failed to notice he was holding until now.
I raise my eyebrows, gesturing for him to continue because I have absolutely no idea what is on this piece of paper.
"I've just spoken to some guy in the car park called Seb" he states in a very matter-of-fact tone, "who gave me a invoice for a five hundred pound car paint job that he apparently wants you to pay for"
Oh.
"Explain" he barks, to which I let out a sigh.
"...There may or may not have been something - some things - spray-painted on Seb's car and I may or may not have had something to do with it"
"You spray-painted his car..." he trails off in disbelief, "what did you spray-paint?"
"Erm, the word prick" I explain, "a picture of a prick, a big EE for Ella Evans..."
He hides his face in his hands and rests his elbows on the kitchen counter, before looking up at me in utter disbelief. I really not sure why he's so surprised that I would do something like this.
"Do you know how much trouble you could have got in for that?"
"Do you know how many fucks I give?"
"Ella, I'm being serious!" He says sternly, "god, I can't believe... actually, no, I can believe you did that, but Jesus, Ella, you can't just go around spray painting people's cars"
"I don't! It was revenge!" I argue.
"Well, I think you should start off by apologising to him"
Well, that sets off the great big Ella bomb in the middle of the kitchen. Ella does not give apologies to people who don't deserve them.
"Apologise?!" I scoff, "apologise?! I think he should apologise for being a massive bellend and for making me feel like shit and for assuming that because he bought me a sandwich, I owed him sex - imagine being so fucking entitled that you think that because you buy someone something, it means that they owe you their vagina - but apparently that's what all men think, because I haven't encountered one yet that sees me as good for anything more than sex and clearly my assertiveness threatens their fragile masculinity, so no, I won't apologise and I won't pay him the five hundred quid and he can go fuck himself, and you" I point at Tris, "you can go fuck yourself as well, and you" I turn my attention to Brad, "well, you can fuck yourself twice"
And with that I storm out of the kitchen and into my bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind me.
* * * * * * *
I don't leave the confines of my room until I think everyone is asleep. My rant earlier was kind of embarrassing and even though I've calmed down considerably, I still don't want to be bothered with social interaction. Also, I'm not sure what to say to Brad if we ended up in a room alone together. Thanks for making out with me against the fridge? Thanks for pushing your erect penis against me? Thanks for timing it so that my brother nearly walked in on it?
And if the past couple of days are anything to go by, our next conversation with either end in us arguing or kissing, rather than me actually telling him what I'd like to say, which is Brad, the kissing is awesome but maybe we should stop doing it because I want to keep on hating you and I can't if you keep kissing me.
Despite all that, I've been stuck in my room for hours and I'm not even tired; I may as well do something productive.
I creep out of my room in my pyjamas and the lights are all off so my assumptions of everyone sleeping appear to be correct. I go to the kitchen, grab a drink and then make myself comfy in the living room. There's a neat pile of my artwork sat on the coffee table that I obviously left in here earlier before my big rant.
I've brought my sketchbook with me so I begin to draw, forgetting about all the earlier drama. My mind's on autopilot and I'm not even thinking about what my hand is drawing.
It's only half an hour later when I stop to rest my aching wrist for a moment that I fully realise that I've drawn Brad.
It's not a perfect portrait; it's still sketchy and messy because I haven't really refined any of it yet; a couple of features don't look a hundred percent right yet but I'm still happy with the progress so far, especially given that it was from memory. Maybe it'll be my best work yet.
I internally laugh. I'd never have said that mere weeks ago; I'd have had the urge to vomit at the thought of drawing Brad in my sketchbook. Then again, mere weeks ago, I hadn't made out with Brad multiple times. Weird how things change...
"My mouth isn't quite right"
I instantly snap my sketchbook shut at the sound of the voice behind me. Maybe my hatred for him has diminished enough for me to give him a place in my sketchbook but I certainly don't want him to know that.
Too late now.
Fuck. I definitely shouldn't have sat so near to the door.
"But the rest is good," he says. I don't have to look at him to hear the smile in his voice, "really good"
I still don't reply because I don't know what to say. He's caught me red-handed.
"I'm honoured" he adds. He sounds like he's being genuine but I can't be sure.
"Don't be, I was planning to burn it" I lie. He doesn't reply but I hear him shift behind me and I think he's left because the room's quiet again. But when I risk a glance behind me, he's still stood there with a stupid smile on his face.
Twat.
"I can burn you while I'm at it" I threaten, to which he just chuckles lightly.
"Alright, I'm going" he smirks as he disappears out of sight and back into the flat.