Twelve
“ Qué carajo, wey. ?Muévete! (What the fuck, dude. Move!)” My eyes fly open as soon as I hear her voice.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I don’t think I’ll be able to forget waking up to her looking like she does right now.
She looks… lighter. Like, she isn’t carrying as much as she usually is.
She’s also not wearing as much as she usually is.
She took off her baggy sweatshirt and looks different without all her layers of armour on. I can see more of her. And fuck, do I like what I see.
So much that I sit up to get a better view. Because her nipples are poking through her shirt, and the scowl on her pissed off and pretty face is just for me. And fucking hell… I want her tits to be just for me, too.
The realization melts off the glaze from my eyes, and I register what else I’m looking at before standing up. Oh, fuck no.
“The fuck? Whose shirt is that?” The words Devil's Baseball are written across her chest, and it aggravates the shit outta me, sight on scene.
“Uh, mine, you idiot, I’m wearing it.” Take it off.
“I don’t like it.” The urge to rip it off her body and wrap her up in my shirt is so strong that I fist the bottom hem of my own.
“And I don’t give a fuck what you like, pendejo .” It’s you. I like you, you fucking demon.
“What are you doing with a practice shirt?” Ours are the exact same and say Devils Hockey . I’ve got at least ten of them, and she can have every single fucking one if it means that dumb baseball shirt doesn’t touch her nipples again.
“ Again, cabrón , I’m wearing it.” And I fucking want it off your body, you sassy little savage.
“Which one of them gave it to you?” I need to know which one of the baseball players I’m murdering. Fucking clowns.
“No one gave it to me, I found it.” Her eyes dart away, and she crosses her arms over her chest like she’s embarrassed. I don’t like it.
“Where?” Tell me.
“In a lost and found bin on campus, okay?” I wasn’t expecting her to say that at all, I – “You done now? What the fuck is this? Some interrogation over my fucking clothes? Shut the fuck up and move, I need to find the bathroom.”
“I don’t like you wearing one of their shirts,” I tell her with as much honesty as I can. She was honest with me, so I can at least be truthful back. She aggressively pulls off her black beanie and glides her fingers through her scalp, pushing the loose strands of hair off her pretty face.
“ ?Qué te importa, wey? (Why is this important?) Stop asking me these dumb fucking questions. Where I get my clothes and what I wear isn’t any of your fucking business,” she shouts while scrunching up her nose and squinting her eyes at me.
“What are you doing here anyway? Go home and annoy someone else with your bullshit, cabrón .”
“No, I'd rather fight with you, you spicy little shithead,” I tell her with a wink and watch the smoke pummel out of her ears as she turns bright red. She’s so fucking pretty when she’s thinking about killing me.
“You take a bat to the head or something, hockey boy?” She looks damn proud of herself for her clap back as she sticks her hand on her popped out hip. It has me wanting to enter a nuclear code, press every one of her buttons, and watch her blow up.
“Wrong sport, brainiac.” Boom.
“WOULD ANYONE EVEN MISS YOU, IF I STABBED YOU RIGHT NOW?” You don’t know it yet, but you would. I’m gonna dig myself so deep underneath your skin, you’re gonna end up missing me even when I’m with you. Just wait, Ed.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, HUNT,” Alvi yells from the other room, and she doesn’t even flinch. We’re locked in a staring contest, and I have no intention of losing.
“I WASN’T TALKING, SHE WAS, YOU OLD FUCK,” I yell back, my eyes lasering through that barbed wire she has around her soulful eyes. “I’M NOT GONNA TELL HER TO SHUT THE FUCK UP, SHE SCARES ME, MAN.”
He’s such an idiot. But he’s right, she is scary… she’s the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Because for the very first time, she’s grinning at me. And I’m afraid she just spooked me for life.