"And no hanky panky in the house."
Groaning, I let my head fall into the palm of my hand. "Mom, please stop."
"Now, I know how you teeenagers can't control those hormones of yours, so if you do find yourself going at it in my house, please make sure to place a sock on the front door, so that I can stay the hell away," she continued on like I hadn't said a word.
Slapping my hand softly on my forehead repeatedly, I let out an embarrassed sigh. "Why? Why?"
"Do you guys know how to use a condom?" Snapping my head up as Brayden choked on his food, coughing, his eyes wide, I turned to my mom with a pleading look.
"You broke him, are you happy?"
"I have a banana and a few condoms in the kitchen, I thought we could go over the proper way of putting a condom on. I love you, sweetheart, but I'm done raising kids," she replied, standing up and moving towards the kitchen.
"Mom, please stop, okay?" I pleaded. She turned around and gave me a puzzled look, seeming utterly confused as to what I was asking her to stop doing. I wasn't surprised. My mom usually didn't know when she was making me want to hide under a table.
"Honey, I'm just trying to make sure that the two of you are safe," she replied, moving back to the table and sitting in her abandoned seat. "I mean, I know how teenagers are. I remember what your father and I were like. I mean, before he started being a psychopath, we couldn't keep our hands off of each other, I mean we would just go at it for hours-"
"You know how you told me to tell you when you're being embarrassing?" I answered, staring at her with wide eyes, eyebrows raised, expectantly.
Making a silent oh with her mouth, her eyes darted to Brayden, who gave her a grin. "He doesn't seem to think that I am."
"That's because he's just as perverted as you are," I replied, shaking my head. Brayden's grin grew and he gave her a lazy shrug when she raised an eyebrow.
"She's right. I'm actually really enjoying this," he answered, around a mouthful of food. "But...you have nothing to worry about, as much as your daughter is a nymphomaniac, I am a gentleman. I'm just not ready for sex."
I felt my jaw unhinge as I stared at him in shock. "I will smother you in your sleep."
"Oh come now, baby, I'm just trying to reassure your mom that I am a classy guy," he smirked, and turning to my mom, he gave her his best innocent look, "She's pushy, but I remind her that I want my first time to be special."
"As it should be, you don't let this one pressure you into anything," she replied, giving him a sympathetic smile. I stared at them in disbelief, my mouth hung open, and my eyes wide.
"What the hell is going on?" I muttered to myself, shaking my head, trying to put together what the hell had just happened.
"Now you make sure that you don't do anything you're not ready for," my betraying mother, continued, giving the lying asshole a soft smile. How? And what?
"You know, I knew you'd understand. I just really wish Porter was more like you," he mumbled back, shaking his head, sadly. Huffing indignantly, I slapped his arm with a scowl. "Ow, what?"
"Where is that loyalty you talk so much about, huh, Cavanaugh?"
"I told you already, Porter," he smiled. "It left hand in hand with your sanity." Grinning, he grabbed my hand off the table, brought it up to his lips and placed a soft kiss to the back of it, making my heart stop in my chest. What the hell was he doing?
"Aww, you two are too adorable," I heard my mom squeal through the thumping in my ears. Winking at me, with a grin, Brayden turned to her. "Okay, I should probably give you the talk."
"Do what you must," he replied, moving our joined hands to rest on his knee. I turned in my seat, and sat stock-still, reminding myself to breathe. Did the guy not know what he was doing to me?
"Okay, here goes," my mom began, sucking in a breath, before masking her smile with a stern look, "if you hurt my daughter, I will chase you to the ends of the world, carve your heart out, and string it on a necklace that she can wear around her neck for the rest of her life."
"Damn, I'm actually kind of scared. That's one of the best threats I've ever heard. I think I need to step up my game," Brayden replied, staring at her in awe. " You have to teach me your ways."
"Oh I would, but that's my only move. And if anything people say about you is to be believed, I don't think you need any help in that department," my mom replied, moving out of her chair. "Which should probably raise some red flags...But...I like you, so we'll see how this goes."
"I'll try my best to keep it that way," Brayden answered, giving her a warm smile.
"Yeah, you better, mister," my mom replied, wagging a finger at him. "Well I'll leave you guys to your studying." And with that she was out of the room.
She'd walked in a few hours before to find textbooks and notebooks spread all over the table. I had no idea when she realized that Brayden and I were 'dating', but decided that we needed to talk. Brayden had been coming over to our house for a couple of ours everyday to tutor me in history, living up to his end of the deal. I wasn't sure which of those days she'd figured it out, but somehow she had.
It wasn't like we spent our tutoring sessions making out, or acting like we were a couple. Because we technically were not. So instead of making out, we'd spent those days with him patiently telling me to focus, and with me constantly reminding him that I was failing history for a reason. He'd roll his eyes at that point and remind me that he was the best fucking tutor to walk on earth and that I should stop doubting him.
I don't know how long we'd spent the last three days trying to work out a system for me to actually grasp what he was trying to teach me. So far, I'd learned the guy had the patience of a saint, knew a lot of unnecessary shit, and that I knew absolutely nothing about history. It didn't matter what we tried, I just wasn't remembering anything, finding it all incredibly boring.
"This is hopeless," I mumbled, starting to lose my resolve, a few hours later. We'd been going at it for hours now, and I was exhausted. And by it, I meant studying. Nothing else. I wasn't exhausted because of anything else. Let's get our minds out of the gutter.
"Must I remind you again, that I am the best fucking tutor to ever walk this earth?" he replied, flipping the history textbook close, and lifting an eyebrow.
"If I wasn't so tired, I'd call you out on how cocky you're being," I muttered from the comfortable spot I'd found on the table to lay my head on.
" You can call me out later, now get your ass up," he replied, getting on his feet, and placing his hands on my arms. Pulling my arms up, I heard him chuckle behind me, when I resisted by snuggling further into the hard table.
"Why?" I asked. "I'm comfortable here."
"Because you're going to show me your paintings." My head snapped up at that, and I turned around to face him with wide eyes. He grinned down at me, and nodded.
"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea," I replied, shaking my head, and swallowing hard.
"Why?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest, and lifting an eyebrow.
"Why? Um, well, because I-you're you, and it's just, well...I just...they're not ready," I rambled on, avoiding his eyes.
"You know if I didn't know any better, I would say you don't want me to see your paintings," he replied, raising an eyebrow, suspiciously.
"What? No? What gave it away?" I answered, sarcastically.
"Because mocking me at this exact moment is such a great idea?" He replied, a smug smirk on his lips.
Mustering all my courage, I gave him my best growl, accompanied by my best glare. He gasped, indignantly, his eyes wide with betrayal.
"I can't believe you just used that on me. After I taught you. I am shocked, shocked at your audacity," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Sorry, desperate times call for desperate measures." Standing up, I moved past him and headed to the kitchen, fighting the urge to run to my room and hide under my bed.
"Okay, I'll just go see them on my own." Eyes wide, a gasp escaping my lips, I snapped around and bolted after him. Jumping onto his back, and wrapping my arms around his neck to slow him down, I winced at how suspicious I probably seemed. Great.
He stumbled, and froze in his tracks. We stood in the middle of my living room, him standing stock-still, startled, with me clinging to his back, both legs wrapped around his waist, one hand wrapped around his neck and the other around his head.
There was no way in hell I could let him see what I'd been working on. I would rather have pee dumped on me every day for the rest of my life than to let Brayden in on my embarrassing secret. A secret I'd been keeping for days. I hadn't even shared it with my mom. Brayden was the last person I wanted to know.
Because my newest paintings were all of him.
I know. I know. I'm crazy and delusional. Bonkers. Shit for brains. I just couldn't help myself. Every time I sat down to paint, the only thing that came to mind were his gorgeous blue eyes. And when it wasn't his eyes, it was his lips. Or his hair. His smirk. His stupid knowing grin. And that jaw that made my insides burn. I was doomed.
"You do realize that I can just keep walking if I want to?" he finally spoke up, turning his head slightly to look at me over his shoulder.
I gave him a sheepish smile. "But you won't?"
"How exactly did you think this plan would go for you?" he inquired, letting out a silent laugh.
"I didn't really think about how it would turn out," I replied. "But in my defense, you didn't really give me much of a choice."
"You know I only want to see them more now, right?" he smirked. "I bet they're a bunch of nude portraits of me. Is that why you don't want me to see them, Porter? You've been imagining what I would look like naked? I'm scandalized."
"Have not," I immediately replied, wincing. He threw me a knowing look over his shoulder, making a flow of words leave my lips before I could stop them, "Once. I did once. But in my defense you were shirtless. I mean come on, what was I supposed to do? You were shirtless with water running down your chest. It would be weird if I didn't start to picture...things...oh god..."
"'Oh god' is exactly what I was thinking," he choked out. He cleared his throat, adjusting my legs around his waist, hoisting me up when I began to slip. "Again, are you actively trying to turn me on?"
"Uh no?"
"That would be more convincing if you didn't word it like a question," he replied, shaking his head with a silent laugh. "Well, if you're not going to show me your paintings, then you might as well feed me to make up for it."
"What exactly am I making up for?" I asked, pulling back to give the back of his head an unimpressed look.
"Do you want me to make my way over to that garage, woman? Because I will," be retorded, moving to take a step towards the garage, making me squeak, and tighten my arms around his neck and head.
"Okay, okay, food it is," I relented, sighing in relief when he turned towards the kitchen, and headed there instead of the garage. "You're impossible."
"You said that already," he reminded me, making his way towards the kitchen counter, where he turned, and lowered me onto the cold surface.
Hopping off the counter when he pulled back, I headed towards the refrigerator, and pulled out some bread. "PB&J?"
"Porter Matthews, is that all you know how to make?" he asked, indignant. I turned towards him puzzled. Hadn't I already told him that that's all I could make?
"Yeah?"
He gasped, bringing a hand to his chest and giving me an offended look. "That is unacceptable."
"Okay?" I muttered, wondering if he'd lost his mind.
"I'm going to teach you to cook," he informed me, moving over to the refrigerator, pulling it open and grabbing the ingredients on what I liked to call 'the shelf of misery', it was named that way for a purpose. Anytime I was feeling particularly ballsy, I'd tried using the ingredients on that shelf. Every time I ended up miserable. "No need to thank me. I'm incredibly generous, and your undying loyalty and adoration for me will be enough."
"Or I could just not do that," I suggested, shrugging a shoulder with a smirk. He shot me a look of reproach, and continued pulling stuff out of the refrigerator.
"Have you ever tried chicken cordon bleu?" he asked, absentmindedly, closing the refrigerator door, and moving to stand by the counter, the products he pulled out of the fridge laying in front of him.
"If I can't pronounce it, then I've never had it," I replied, wrinkling my nose. He turned towards me and tapped his finger on my nose, making me smile.
"You're gonna learn today," he grinned. "Alright, my little padawan, can you make an egg wash?"
"Is that the thing were you whisk eggs with a tiny bit of water?" I lifted an eyebrow, giving him a sardonic look.
"I could do without the attitude, smartass," he replied, shaking his head with a grin.
"Why? Can't handle a girl with attitude?" I answered, realizing my mistake a little too late, when his hands froze. I watched with wide eyes, holding my breath, as he placed the knife he was holding on the counter, and turned towards me, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he stalked towards me.
"You know we can always find out," he whispered, as he stepped right into my space, his face inches away from mine. I moved my head back so that I could look at him, his stupid height making me want to growl.
"We could, but-chicken...don't you want to eat some chicken?"
"I have an idea of something else I could eat," he answered, fighting a laugh when my eyes widened. "You make it real easy, Porter."
"Shut up."