Living With Boys

Chapter Four

I wake up and take a look at the clock. It's already twelve in the afternoon. I groan and throw my head back, but it doesn't hit the bed. Instead it lands on Ryan's chest. Ryan?

Memories flood back from last night. I relax a bit and look back at Ryan's perfect face. He really is perfect. He has the most handsome jawline, and don't even get me started on his eyes. The way his hair lay perfectly over his head. The v-line that I have full access to seeing right now.

Reality hits me and I realize he's only in his boxers. Why am I having these perverted thoughts? I quickly get off of him and attempt to leave the room quietly.

"Tessa?" Ryan says groggily.

I mentally slap myself for being so loud.

"Um, yeah?" I turn around to face him.

"Where are you going?"

"To my room of course."

"Can...can you, uh, stay?" He stutters, making my heart flutter. I can't decline his request, he is kinda hard to say no to.

I climb back in bed and lay on the opposite side of the bed. He frowns for a second then pulls me closer to him, snaking his arm around my waist. With his new set-up, my head is against his bare chest, while his one arm is around my waist, the other playing with my hair.

I turn around to face him and he looks at me with such soft eyes.

"What?" I ask, unsure of why he's looking at me like that.

"You're just very beautiful."

"You don't even know me," I tell him. It is true, he doesn't know me. He doesn't know that I've never really had friends. He doesn't know that I used to be abused by my father.

He doesn't know anything.

I get off of him and leave the room. He comes after me, and spins me around to face him.

"What's wrong?" He questions, searching my face for answers.

"I Don't want to talk about it."

I pull away from his grasp, leaving him even more confused. I can't help the tears prickling in my eyes. Just thinking about my father makes me upset. My dad and mom divorced a couple of years ago. My father went to prison for being on marijuana and for abusing me and my mother.

My mother remarried just last year. I'm still adjusting to my new father, but he is respectful to my mother, which is all I care about.

I can't help the tears that softly run down my face. I can't help anything. I can't help that my father is so terrible. I can't help that people don't really like me.

A soft knock sounds at the door. I wipe away my tears and tell them to come in.
Eric peers through the door and probably notices my blotchy face.

"What-? Were you crying?"

I give a small nod and he comes down to sit next to me on the floor.

"I feel so pathetic," I quietly say, rubbing away the extra tears that have fallen down my face.

"Well you're not, tell me what's wrong."

"I don't want to talk about it, please," I say.

He nods his head in understanding, "Do you want me to leave?" I nod my head while he gets up, and leaves the room.

I really shouldn't be like this, especially when this family doesn't know me, they probably think I'm this pathetic, naive girl.

But I'm not.