"You are unbelievable!"

I don't get a response from the brooding bad boy next to me so I huff and fall back into the seat, not bothering to waste my breath for a minute longer.

The last thing I'd ever expected to happen on a girls night out with Spencer was to end up kidnapped by the schools quarterback. I'm yet to determine what his motives are but I'm relatively calm considering he could flip a switch and put his crazy hat on at any moment. Maybe his whole angle had been to get me alone so he could murder me and throw me into the Archwood Lake where I'll never be found again.

That might be a little dramatic.

I think of Spencer and decide that I should probably check in on her. Tim isn't a complete stranger but neither of us have seen him in a few years so I slip my phone out of my bra and start typing out a text, asking that she's still alive and well. Drayton doesn't snatch the phone away or demand to know who I'm texting so I take that as a good sign. I could be sending an SOS.

I should probably do that.

We eventually pull into a gated driveway which requires Drayton to swipe a card over the speaker box standing outside the car window before the gates open. The house or mansion is incredible. On either side of the driveway are large spaces of lawn which are cut so perfectly that I wouldn't even want to walk on it. The driveway winds around and stops in front of the huge house and a little further to the right is a four-car garage connected to the side of the house.
It's a modern build with a sharp aesthetic, a flat roof which extends a little further at the front doorstep, allowing shelter. The dark grey colour gives it a sleek feel and large windows run floor to ceiling next to the deep rich wooden door.

"Sheesh, I knew you guys were well off, but this is something else." I marvel at the house as Drayton and I get out of the car, momentarily distracting me from the current hostage situation. Even if I do want to go home, to my very small home, the burning curiosity to see what it's like inside a house this beautiful, is strong.

"You do know who my Dad is right?" Drayton asks, lighting a cigarette up as he leans on the back of the Jeep. The urge to smack it out of his mouth gets my hand twitching, but I resist because this is his property and he can do as he pleases.

"Um..." I draw a blank as I search the small file inside my head which holds things I know about Drayton Lahey. "Nope. Should I?"

He rolls his eyes with a little smile on his lips. "Did you miss that entire conversation that I had with your brother the other night?"

"I guess I did," I shrug my shoulders. I'd missed a lot of what they said because mentally excusing myself from that entire experience had been the only thing on the forefront of my mind. "Are you going to tell me who your Dad is or not?"

"He was the quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys years ago," he explains, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the still night air.

"Wait really?!" I'm a little shocked but not entirely surprised considering the house and Drayton's natural athletic abilities. "How'd you end up in Archwood?! And how did I not know about this?"

"I don't really go around announcing it with a megaphone. Pressure is already high enough. And my Dad grew up here. He wanted to come back and do the family thing after he retired."

He looks down at the ground as he speaks, his brows lightly drawn together as if there's something else on his mind. He quickly stubs the cigarette out on the ground and throws it into a little hedge that separates the lawn and the concrete. Gross. "Come on."

I don't follow him as he moves towards the front door, returning to my previously annoyed state over the current kidnapping situation. He turns around and fixes me with a frustrated glare. It's dangerous and a little intimidating but damn, he looks good when he does it. "Dallas, come on."

"No. I told you to take me home" - I hold up my finger matter of factly - "you can't just kidnap people! It's rude!"

His expression morphs from frustration into tired boredom as he rolls his eyes and storms towards me, his strides are so long and purposeful that I barely have time to react before his body is mere inches away from mine.

"If you scream, you'll wake my parents up."

I only get about point three seconds to be confused before I'm lifted up and hurled over his shoulder as effortlessly as if he was picking up a child. A surprised gush of air leaves my lungs but I remember his warning and decide that explaining this situation would be entirely too awkward even if I hadn't done anything wrong. So I keep quiet and instead settle for punching his back repeatedly, which seems to have absolutely no effect on him whatsoever.

In fact, the only affected person in this scenario is me, because try as I may, I can't stop feeling the burning heat of his hands on the back of my legs, holding on dangerously close to my butt which he'd displayed a small amount of interest towards earlier in the week.

I definitely have had far too much to drink.

My desire to see the inside of this house isn't panning out as I may have formerly hoped. I'm just getting an upside down view which is obstructed by my hair and the dark as Drayton makes his way through the foyer at a fast pace. From what I can tell, it's really nice.

I suppose we finally make it to a spare room because he grips my waist and sets me on my feet, closing the door once he's let go, which was too soon in my opi-

No! I can not think like that. Ugh.

"This isn't a spare room?" I turn in a slow circle, taking in the surroundings as he switches on a bedside lamp. The dark blue walls are plastered with signed football jerseys, there's a shelf which displays an impressive collection of trophies and certificates. A large window on the right side of the room looks down on the driveway we'd just been standing in moments ago. A bed in the left corner of the room is made neatly with a black bedspread and a television mounted to the wall, facing the bed.

Drayton begins to strip his clothing off as he disappears into a little ensuite at the far end of the room. I can't help but stand there and stew on the fact that I'm in Drayton Lahey's bedroom. I'm almost tempted to send Spencer a Snapchat and enjoy watching her flip the fuck out. Which reminds me to check and make sure that she texted me back.

Yea fune. U jus woke me up. Foodnjght.

I can't help but giggle at the message as I read the typos and know that she's probably more drunk than I am.

"Here." I look up just in time to see an almost totally naked Drayton, throw me a large white T-shirt. I catch it with one hand while my eyes unwillingly stay glued to his flawless form. He's just in a black pair of Calvin Kleins, displaying his chiselled six pack and defined V line. He's definitely got thick footballer thighs and every dip and crevice is so perfectly sculpted that it should be illegal to look that good.

He climbs into his bed with a lazy smirk, throwing an arm behind his head as he watches me stand in place like a blubbering idiot.

"Is there really no spare bedroom in this enormous house?" I snap out of my stupor and put a hand on my hip, still gripping the oversized shirt.

"Nope!" He grins widely. "If you wanna sleep on the floor that's fine. It just won't be very comfortable."

There's a reason that he's insisting on having me here. There has to be. I don't know what it is but at this point, I'm getting tired and arguing with him literally gets me nowhere.

"I'm not having sex with you!" I declare, pointing an accusatory finger at him as I succumb to the peculiar sleeping arrangements.

"Cheer pear," he leans up on his elbows and gives me a pitiful once over. "I don't want to have sex with you. Hostile isn't really my type. Besides" - he shrugs a shoulder as he lays back down - "I have more effective ways of getting girls into bed, it doesn't usually require me dragging them into my house against their will."

"I'm not hostile!" I hiss, walking towards the bathroom. I leave the door open and pull the shirt over my head before I slip the dress down my body and flick it away with my foot as I shove my arms through the sleeves and lastly kicking off my heels. "I'm just annoyed because you're annoying!" I continue once I come out of the bathroom.

Drayton rolls his eyes as he turns his head towards where I'm standing at the edge of the bed, a little nervous to actually get in without another invitation. As his eyes land on me, they ever so slightly widen, flickering down to my thighs where the shirt stops. But it's momentary and he quickly refocuses his gaze towards the ceiling.

"Get in," he orders, leaning over and switching the bedside lamp off.

"This is weird.." I continue to hesitate even though he said exactly what I had been hoping for.

"Why? It's just sharing a bed," he shrugs. "I'm not gonna touch you."

"You're so arrogant," I flick the covers back, exposing his body as I slide in next to him, I can't help the embarrassing intake of air that fills my lungs when I get another view of his chiselled torso. "I wouldn't touch you either. Ever."

"Hey what happened to your friend?" I gasp, suddenly remembering that he'd been with someone tonight. "Did you leave him in Castle Pines?!"

"What? No. Of course not." He scoffs. "He went home with some chick. I'd never leave my friend at a night club, I'm not an asshole!" He gives me a pointed look and I know he's referring to my phone spat with Spencer.

"Spencer is not an asshole! It was just" - I chew on my lip as I think of something to say - "it was just miscommunication."

"If you say so."

I roll on to my side and prop myself up on an elbow so I can watch and gauge his reaction to my next question. "Drayton, why did you bring me back here? I would have been fine at home. I'm not that drunk."

His face unfortunately doesn't give anything away as he continues to stare at the ceiling, tapping the back of his head with his fingers. I swear he has some sort of on-off switch. Because one moment I can have a civilised conversation with him and the next, he shuts down again. It's confusing on a number of levels.

Suddenly he rolls over and throws his leg across mine, straddling me with his hands coming to rest on either side of my head so that I'm completely encased beneath his large frame. He brings his face down with a sultry expression, his hooded eyes searching my face like a map and I think I may have stopped breathing.

"W-what are you doing?" I mumble, not able to take my eyes off of his face for more than one reason. One of them being that he's so close there's nowhere else to look.

"We're alone," he mumbles in a husky voice that causes an undeniable ache within me. "We're both almost naked, we're both into having a good time. No one would have to know.."

All I can do is swallow loudly, really loudly, my eyes flitter between his lips and the lusted look that he's currently adorning. The only light in the room is from the large outdoor lamp shining on the driveway, it casts flattering shadows on the side of his face, allowing him to look even more gorgeous if that's humanly possible. I can feel the heat of his body hovering above mine, his legs graze the outside of my thighs and his chest lightly brushes against the top of mine.
His face slowly starts to inch down and I think he's waiting for me to say no, as if he's seeking permission.

Say no. Say no. Say no. Say no.

When I can feel the soft plump of his lips ever so slightly grazing mine, my eyes start to close, the warning voice in my head being drowned out by his intoxicating scent, his hot breath fans my skin, but before our lips lock, he pecks my forehead and I look up to find him staring at me with a smug smirk.

"I thought I'd just show you that if I wanted you, I could have you."

He rolls back over to his side of the bed with a satisfied sigh, leaving me a hot mess as I breathe rapidly and process what I'd been about to do.

I blame the alcohol. For the umpteenth time tonight.

"I actually hate you." I seethe, rolling over so my backs to him. "Like what the hell is your problem? As if this night hasn't been bad enough for me and then you have to humiliate me. AGAIN. I dunno what I did to you but after tonight just stay the fuck out of my face."

"Dallas-"

"Don't!" I cut off his pleading voice because I'm afraid that he's just going to make me feel like an idiot again. "Don't speak to me. I don't even want to be here right now. I feel disgusting but what else can I do? Apparently nothing, because what you want, you get, right?"

The silence is louder than words could possibly be right now and the tension in the air is so thick that it's suffocating, waiting to be broken by either of our voices, but neither one of us have anything to say to each other. I don't know why my head keeps hoping for more of a genuine side to him. There's clearly nothing beyond his dick head exterior. It shouldn't matter to me anyway. We've had one week of weird interactions, it's not like I'm losing anything by cutting him off.

So why does it still feel disappointing?

You know that feeling, when you've had too much to drink and you end up somewhere unfamiliar with people you don't know all that well and all you want is to be in your own bed because the feeling of discomfort is so unbearable that you can't sleep or relax and it makes you a little nauseous. Well, I've felt that way before and as much as I think I should feel that way now, I don't. I just feel upset and embarrassed but I also feel strangely comfortable and it's making me angrier than anything.

"Dallas?" Drayton shifts beside me, moving a little closer. I don't say anything and keep my eyes trained on the large window.

"Dallas, I'm sorry."

• • •