So, What Pick-Up Line Actually Works On You?

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Make Me A Sandwich And Some Babies.

Right, I aplogize for this. Next chapter will be happier and more romantic and more this story. I had to get this done to move on to the rest of the story. If car accidents upset you, I am issuing a warning. It's shorter than usual, but it felt right to end it there.

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Make Me A Sandwich And Some Babies.

"I'm so sexy." Rhys sighed to himself, running his fingers through his tufty hair and pouting in the mirror. I, of course, snorted and shook my head at his antics. Encouraging this would only lead to more behavioural problems, and Rhys didn't need any more of those.

"I would so fuck me if I could." Rhys continued, analysing his face in the mirror, and prodding his dimples as he smiled to his reflection. "I can clearly see you just want me for my good looks now, not my intelligence or sheer wit." Rhys accused, spinning around to face me knowingly. He stood in front of me in his boxers, hands on his hips, pouting again with his hair sticking up in forty different directions.

"Yes. That's it. I'm after your toned thighs." I mocked, snuggling the duvet closer to me and wishing I had some rice pudding in a bowl right now. I wasn't feeling the best, apparently I had a fever, was dehydrated and needed rest. But that was according to Doctor Rhys Brady, and he can be a twat.

Rhys smirked, and took a step forward. He didn't look a least bit intimidating in his superman boxers, but I had to pretend so as not to insult his manly pride. "I think you're getting too lippy. You are a woman. Make me a sandwich and some babies." Rhys haughtily replied. He then dived face first onto the bed, juggling me about and sticking his ass in the air. It was three in the afternoon and this was how I had spent the past seven hours. Rhys pranced around in his boxers, admiring himself and shaking his ass in my face.

“Woman, we have so little time left and you’re spending it watching me shake my ass. I swear, I love you so much.” Rhys mumbled, seeming sleepy all of a sudden. He snuggled his head into my side, sprawled out beside me lazily. He didn’t notice that I had frozen.

This dumb twat loves me?

He loves me?

He loves me.

Sure, I love him. But I’m the female in this relationship, even though he owns a skirt, and it’s my job to be all soppy and doting and oohh-ing and ahhhh-ing over him. Males don’t just announce something like that. Unless they want sex. But Rhys was all curled up beside me like a cat, gazing at the ceiling absent mindely and rubbing his chin. Typical. I’m freaking out and he’s sitting there like a cat gentleman hybrid, completely oblivious to it all.

Which was why, in a moment of stupidity I yelled out something that I’m sure even Miranda heard and she walks around with her head in the clouds. “I love you too!” I screamed, immediately clapping my hands over my mouth and that sinking feeling of doom settled in my stomach.

Rhys jumped when I made my loud proclamation and banged his head off my chin as he sat up, “Jesus Christ, woman, no need to fucking yell. But now that we have made that clear, I would like to nap. Love makes me sleepy. And I brought you a booklet. It’s a lovely booklet. I added to it and everything. It’s in my pants. Like my jeans. Not my underwear.” Rhys stuttered slightly at the last part, and the tips of his ears turned pink. Poor baby was petrified of me going near his underwear? “I mean, its not that I don’t want you down there, like! It’s just that you need to rest, and sexual activities aren’t rest, in fact they’re the opposite. You’ll get all excited- oh dear God, excited and then…..” Rhys trailed off, ending his tirade of embarrassing jargon.