Bad Boy

Lucas was a bad boy. Everyone knew it, especially me. I was determined to stay away from him and concentrate on college. But he certainly didn't want to stay away from me.

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5. A failed escape

I slowly opened my eyes, hoping that what I thought had happened last night had all been a nightmare.

No such luck.

Light streamed in through the thin gap in the curtains, making the empty room seem bigger and brighter. Lucas's hot arms were still wrapped around me, his chin on top of my head, which was pressed to his chest. My muscles were stiff as I stretched my legs, I hadn't moved an inch the night. Then again, I was surprised that I'd managed to get to sleep.

I just had to get out of here. Get my clothes and get home, then deny all knowledge that this ever happened. That would be the best way to go.

How to get out of the prison of his arms though? They were clenched tight around me, making it extremely difficult to even move. Best to worm my way out the bottom. I slowly shuffled further down the bed, getting my stomach free. But he sighed in his sleep and tightened his grip around my shoulders. Damn. Just help me get out of here.

I kept shuffling, attempting to extricate my arms. I managed to, the pulled my head free. I scuttled under the covers and climbed out in the most undignified way possible, but at least I was free. I didn't look at him as I walked around the bed, reaching for my clothes, which were hanging on the radiator. But a floorboard creaked under my foot, loud and clear. I ducked, hoping he wouldn't wake up. But slowly he stretched, mumbled a few things, then looked curiously at his empty circle of arms. He rolled over and saw me crouched on the floor, both of us eyeing each other.

"Hey babe. Get back into bed," he smirked, but his voice was slow with sleep. Right, he was clearly tired. That lowered his odds of catching me. 

I darted forwards, grabbing my clothes and sprinting back round the side of the bed. I quickly pulled open the door, seeing him slowly sit up. I ran down the hallway, head moving from side to side, trying to find the front door. There! I sprinted towards it, wrenching the handle and running out. I slammed the door behind me, but it met resistance. I squealed, as I realised that Lucas was probably on the other side. Don't let him catch me.

I pushed it hard then ran for the stairs, running down them two at a time in my hurry to leave. I could hear heavy steps behind me, going even faster than mine, so I upped my pace. I jumped down 4 or 5 steps to get down to the next floor, but I tripped, my ankle twisting sideways as I landed on my front. I moaned in pain, my clothes flying out of hand and landing a few feet ahead of me. 

The footsteps behind me slowed, turning into a leisurely walk. "Don't touch me," I whimpered, still hoping he'd go away. The footsteps got closer, until they were right in front of my face, his shoes a few inches away from my eyes. "Fuck," I moaned, though it seemed a lot like showing weakness. My ankle ached and burned, like something had twisted the wrong way.

Lucas sighed heavily. "Come on then." I felt him lift me up, under my knees and another arm around my shoulder.  My ankle jerked up and down as walked, carrying me up to his flat. I bit my lip, trying not to cry out.

***

Lucas handed me a freezer pack. "Here's some ice." I was sat on a chair in his kitchen, my ankle on my lap and my cheeks burning in embarrassment.

I took it, not caring that he'd given it to me, only wanting something to relieve the pain in my swollen ankle. I pressed it to my ankle, shuddering as my foot reacted to the cold. Lucas came over, kneeling in front of me, a smug grin on his face. He took my ankle, keeping the ice pressed to it, probing the skin with his thumb. I tried not to shudder at that either.

"Yep, you've just twisted it. Great escape plan, by the way." I ignored him, snatching the ice and my ankle back. 

"Can I go yet?" I asked tonelessly, though I'd pretty much given up on that. It seemed like he'd never let me leave.

Lucas laughed. "Sure, babe. Want me to give you a lift?"

"No!" I shouted, an automatic reaction. Never again was I going on a motorbike. "I can get the bus," I said, more calmly.

I put one hand on the table and hobbled forwards, trying not to look at Lucas, who was watching with his eyebrows raised. "You really going outside like that, babe?" I looked down at myself. Shoot. I was still in his t-shirt. I looked around for my clothes.

"Need any help getting changed?" Lucas brought out my clothes from behind his back. I reached out and snatched them from him, storming off towards the bedroom. No way was I getting his help.

I chucked his t-shirt onto the bed, putting my bra and pants on. I tried to pull my blouse over my head, but I accidentally put weight on my ankle, making me wince and stumble to the side. It'd try that again later. Jeans next. I put my injured ankle in one leg hole, pulling it up my leg. I overbalanced and fell to the side, landing with a thump.

"Need a hand?" Lucas's voice floated through the door. 

"Don't come in here!" I shouted back, but I heard the door open. I must be a sight to behold. Lying on the floor, in my underwear, with a pair of jeans around my ankle. "Go away!" I shouted at him. He ignored me.

Lucas grabbed me by the waist, pulling me back up. Silently he held my shoulders, keeping me steady as I pulled my jeans on. I didn't look at him. God, now the t-shirt. I tried to push him away, but it was like pushing at rock.

He led me over to the bed and I sat down on it. He slowly lifted my arms up, pulling them through the sleeves. Lucas began doing up the buttons, going from the top. Why was he doing this? I could do it perfectly well by myself. He kept his fingers steady, not touching my skin once as he worked his way down the buttons. You had to hand it to him, he didn't look at anywhere else than the blouse, at any point.

Lucas picked up the necklace around my neck, playing with the small cross between his fingertips and running the silver chain through his hand. "Are you religious? I've been meaning to ask for days."

I felt awkward with him touching my crucifix, but I didn't want to snatch it away and risk breaking it. "Um, yeah. It was my Nan's."

He let the necklace go, the cold metal falling into place at the hollow of my throat. "Why do you need it?"

"Need what?" I asked, confused.

"All that religious crap." I flinched. Referring to my religion as 'crap', didn't exactly make me comfortable around him.

"My Nan said God would protect me, if I wore it. He always has, so I've never taken it off." Why was I telling him this?

The silence suddenly became very awkward, so I shuffled away along the bed, gripping the chain between my fingers. "Thanks," I muttered. "I'd, um, better be going."

What was wrong with this guy? At any possible moment, he made annoying and perverted jokes. But when he could easily take advantage of me, he was the perfect gentleman. This freaked me out more than anything.

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