Chapter 13 ~ Minho #3
Bellamy takes a step toward me, eyes never leaving mine as he drops the spatula to the floor like some forgotten toy.
He crowds my space until I am forced to take a step back, then another after that, until I bump into a wall.
It doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s put me in the same position I put him in the other day.
“I’m sorry I slept with your girlfriend. I’m sorry I didn't give you space after you were nice enough to get me home safely,” he whispers so softly I could have missed it. “I’m sorry, sorry it took me this long to say the words I should have said for a while now.”
“I had Rafe take you home,” I grumble, looking away from him when his stare becomes too much to drown in. “It isn’t that serious.”
“It is to me,” he takes another step until our chests are brushing against each other.
“You could have left me there at that party shit-faced, and that is why I am not sorry that I am still crazy about you. I’m not sorry for touching you, teasing you, making you think about it because let's be honest, we both know you do.” He pauses, takes my chin in his hand and forces me to look into his piercing blue eyes.
“I’m not sorry this excites you; I’m just not, so if you want to set my life on fire, rekindle our stupid rivalry to make you feel superior to me again, go ahead, fuck it, I will get the matches; you just tell me when to light them. ”
For the first time since I have been in his presence, I am utterly lost for words as my mouth opens, then closes repeatedly until I give up.
“God, I hate you.”
“I am well aware.”
I fist the thin apron in my hands, the only god damn thing he is wearing. “You're insufferable, relentless,” I shake my head because fuck, what do I say to that? I don’t like not knowing what to say. “You won't ever give up, will you?”
“No.”
There’s no hesitation to his quick response, not even a hint of it in his determined expression, and I know I am fucked when my heart starts racing from his proximity alone. I hate that I notice all this and that he does too by the smug smile on his perfect face.
“But why?” I ask. “Why torture yourself when you know I am never giving in to you—I can’t, no, I won’t.”
His smile widens. “Agree to disagree, Minho, because I am not giving up until you kiss me first this time, and I do hope it is before our first game as teammates because I would hate to see you embarrass yourself on the ice without a boyfriend to swoop in and comfort you.”
I laugh, the sound mocking. “I think you have me confused with a damsel, Bells, because I don't need nor do I want anyone, for that matter, to swoop in, and I’ll have you know, after watching some of your games, it’s clear I am the better player, so it will be you wishing you had someone to pick you off the floor. ”
“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” He asks, leaning in close until our noses are touching.
“You say you don’t need nor want anything or anyone, but you do; you want so badly to be seen, to be wanted, but that shit scares you, doesn’t it?
” Bellamy laughs as if he’s solved the greatest mystery in the world, and I clench my jaw so tightly my teeth might shatter.
“So you do your best to close yourself off from it, hide from it, numb yourself to it, so that you can’t be disappointed when it all falls apart because hey, you didn’t try going for it. ”
“You don’t know what you are talking about,” I grit out.
He smirks. “But you see, I think I do, and I would wager a lot it has everything to do with mommy leaving and daddy neglecting to see you for who you are, and I would bet my entire future you joined the team so he would finally see you, so that you could drop the team and leave him before he can disappoint you again—am I close?”
“Fuck you.” I push against his chest, but he stands firm like a brick wall.
“I’m counting on it, baby.”
I blink away tears before Bellamy can see them, but I know he already has by the way his face softens.
“You think you have me all figured out, right? That I am this open book you can easily read, but I am not, I’m not some mystery for you to solve, I am not your baby, I’m not your anything because I do not need you, never have, never will, so keep dreaming whatever fantasy you're lost in because in reality, the hard truth is that I will never want you.”
My words don't seem to faze him as he tilts his head to the side before straightening and keeping eye contact with me. “We’ll see. I give you until your birthday before I have you begging not to stop kissing you.”
“That’s in like three weeks.”
“Exactly.”
“You're an idiot.” But even as I say the words, I see now that this will never end; he will never stop, and I, like the true idiot, will respond like I always have. “You're an overconfident, overbearing idiot whose delusions are beyond repair.”
“And you're running out of insults and failing miserably to push me away, but go on, do your worst.” his lips are a breath away; all it would take is me closing the gap. “I dare you, because I do so love it when you fight me,” he pauses, lips brushing mine as he whispers. “That is what excites me.”
“You—I.” I clamp my mouth shut. “Your—”
Bellamy leans his head into the crook of my neck, and I go utterly still as he plants a kiss there, then lowers and peppers more kisses to my throat before whispering into my ear, “Come get something to eat, then rest, Minho. We have practice early in the morning, and I don’t think you want me waking you up the way I would like to. ”
Why am I picturing my dick in his mouth?
Why?
I don’t ever want to be woken up like that—especially by him.
The heat flooding my face is either anger or something else—something I swear I will never say out loud, and yet, I don’t want to know which as I stand there glued to the wall, completely at a loss for words as Bellamy picks up the spatula and whistles as he gets back to cooking.
What the fuck just happened? And why does it feel like I lost? Why in this twisted reality of life does it feel like shit just got worse before I even set my trap?
When I do manage to pull myself together, it's to go to the washroom and finally see what the hell Rafe tattooed on my ass. I lock the door, pull my shorts down in front of the sink mirror and angle myself so that I can see the back of my reflection.
My eyes widen, and more heat rises to my face until I am cherry red. “What the fuck!” I shout. I swear I hear Bellamy's laughter echoing from the kitchen, and by the time I leave the bathroom to hide in my bedroom, it is decided—I am going to kill both of them.