Close To The Dangerous Bad Boy novel Chapter 4

I started taking off my jacket and was still blushing, because I felt his gaze burning into my pale skin…

"Wait here." He snapped all of a sudden. He walked into a room and came out with a giant green sweater.

"Here. Take off your shirt, you're soaking wet." He offered. Or ordered.

I didn't want to take my clothes off in front of him and besides, I had no idea what to do with the cat. "I…I…" I murmured nervously.

"The bathroom is the second door on the left," He growled through clenched teeth. " give me the cat."

"Thanks." I grabbed the sweater and handed the kitty over to the big bad wolf.

The bathroom looked surprisingly neat compared to the rest of the apartment. I took off the wet shirt that was already sticking to my body, and dried myself with the towel. When I pulled his huge sweater over my head I could smell the washing powder and cigarettes. Shockingly, those two scents matched extremely well. I wasn't a big fan of cigarettes, but this smelled really nice.

When I came out of the bathroom I saw the cutest scene ever…Lucas was sitting on a chair with the kitten on his lap, and was stroking her fur while she was drinking milk from a small plate. He was smiling.

"Look," He said calmly "she's feeling better already." I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or the cat.

I sat down next to him and the kitty started to purr. That cute sound filled the room, and it weirdly made me feel safe.

"Won't your parents be worried?" He raised his head and looked at me. His eyes were like two cups of delicious, melted, hot chocolate…

"Huh?" I blurted out, completely dazzled by his presence.

"Your parents." His voice got more serious and he raised his eyebrows expecting an answer.

"Oh, umm…my mom comes home at 6PM, so she won't even notice I've missed the bus." I still had three hours to come home without my mom being worried, plenty of time. She ends at 4PM actually, but then she takes another hour and a half to sort and clean everything up. She works in an office, she's some kind of a computer geek. They love her work, she's so…neat and perfect.

"Then I'll take you home," He again ordered, rather then offered "save you the trip with the bus. We'll take my bike."

"Your stol…" I quickly covered my mouth expecting one of his angry outbursts. But instead he started laughing.

This was the first time I've heard him laugh. It was so nice and warm and…hot.

"A game?" I swallowed.

"Yeah. It's called Kings Cross. You take a bunch of cards," He pulled a pile of game cards from somewhere " and we each take a card from the pile and whoever has the stronger card, asks the other one a question. Oh, and the other one also has to take a sip of the beer."

I've never played a drinking game before. Hell, I've never drink before. I always watched other people live their lives while I was just sitting and waiting…for what? I always had this fantasy that some kind of a prince, in my case that would be Dan Humphrey from Gossip Girl, would come and save me…But I've got myself an anti-hero…will my Chuck Bass, do?

He started mixing the cards, skilfully. He must have done that a lot, I thought to myself. He looked so relaxed and concentrated at the same time. That was the first time I've seen him so calm. After a while he put the deck of cards onto the table and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and casually put it in his mouth.

"I'd ask if it bothers you," He lighted the cigarette "but this is my house, so I don't really care." He said rudely and exhaled the first small cloud of smoke out of his mouth.

I watched the soft glow of the tip of the cigarette as he took another puff, creating the most amazing patterns.

"I don't mind if you smoke." I said and he looked at me with a surprise in his eyes and offered me a cigarette.

"Oh, I don't smoke, thanks." I turned down the cigarette. I was just used to the smell, it reminded me of Mrs. Badowski, the sweet old lady next door, who was babysitting me when I was little. She was one of the rare outside people that my mom actually let into her life. The lady was like a grandma I never had. I remember her always cooking goulash in that big red pot of hers, while smoking a cigarette. She was from Poland, I still know a few polish words she taught me; pies means dog, cukierek means candy, and truskawka means strawberry. She died when I was seven.