Here is chapter 11 :)

All sense of time seemed to pause as Stephanie stared at the terrible disaster she had created. Droplets of coffee leaked from the table, but that wasn't the worst part.

Drake was covered in coffee. Well, his white shirt had been destroyed into an ugly shade of brown. His black suit pants had not been forgotten in the avalanche of hot liquid, and a wet patch surrounded his crotch area.

The coffee mug had not been saved from the chaos. It too, lay upside on the hard wooden table, the banana sending her a sad face.

If it was any other person, she would've laughed.

Except it was Drake whatever-his-last-name-was.

Smart, arrogant, cocky Drake. Who also happened to be giving her a look full of pure hatred. His sharp brows were pulled into a tight frown, his cold green eyes sending her dangerous signals.

Anger boiled deep in his system, as hot as lava. If Drake was a volcano, he would be on the the brim of bursting.

She stretched her arm across the table and grabbed an unused napkin.

"Drake, I am so sorr-" she mumbled while dabbing at his chest, which only smeared the warm liquid and made it worse. One look from the angry beast silenced her, her words getting caught in her throat.

The last time she made Drake angry, he had bitten her like an insane vampire. The bite mark still throbbed in pain, and she could feel a headache on the horizon as her hand rested on the middle of his shirt.

He slowly rose from his chair, not taking his eyes off of her in the process.

His eyes glinted with anger, but also another emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on.

He yanked her firmly from her chair, her legs wobbling and tripping over her clumsy feet, landing face first into a hard wall.

Or well, that's what it felt like.

Except she knew it couldn't be a wall as a strong arm snaked around her waist, righting her into the familiar feeling of Drake's warm chest.

She peered up at him underneath her long dark lashes. Drake was staring at her, a look of shock crossing his features. His chest rose and fell with every fast beat of his heart, and she could hear the sounds of his heart pumping blood from where she was being held against them. Not an inch seperated the two of them as they stared deeply into each other's eyes.

An inevitable mask fell across his strong features, replaced by pure anger.

"Take off my shirt," Drake stated not so nicely, rather than asked.

His four words caught her off guard, and she glared at him. If looks could kill, he would be reduced to a pile of ashes in seconds.

"Or are you too innocent for that?"

His handsome lips dipped into a slight smirk, most likely replaying the events of last night in his head, just as she was.

She tried to step out of his grasp, but his strong hand wouldn't budge, and impossibly held her closer to his warmth. She could smell the scent of drying coffee from where she stood, as well as a hint of coconuts.

She hated being called innocent, and it seemed Drake knew this. Her brain started to swirl with thoughts not so innocent as she gave into his demand with a grunt.

She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, his breath fanning her rosy cheeks as he studied her every movement closely, like she was an alien humankind had yet to meet.

She made sure to fumble at a few buttons just to annoy him. He gave her an odd look and quietly muttered under his breath, but didn't say anything insulting to her. She bit her lip to hold back her laughter, and she looked up at Drake, who was staring right at her lips, just as she finished with the last button.

The shirt was swiftly whipped off of Drake by his own hands, revealing abs that hours ago she had been acquainted with. She studied the tattoos that dotted his centre. Two lines formed the shape of a cross, with words written in a language she didn't understand beneath it. Black swirls trailed all the way up and over his back, and the snake tattoo she had seen before hissed at her, trapped in the three straight lines of a triangle. Words in a different language accompanied the tattoo.

He really was handsome.

Well, a handsome jerk, to be precise.

She glanced up at him again from her small height. He was gazing at her intensely, his eyes flicking up and down her body.

"Take off your shirt."

His words baffled her, catching her off guard once again.

"No, you silly melon," she crossed her arms over her chest.

He couldn't be serious, could he?

No way was she taking off her shirt. The thought of it flushed her cheeks into a deep shade of red, and she wouldn't be surprised if she had been transformed into a tomatoe.

"It's my shirt, so give it to me," he matched her stance, his muscular arms crossed over his chest in a bored manner.

She stood on her tippy toes, finally meeting his level. Her right foot throbbed in protest, but she ignored it.

She wasn't going to strip for him, not if she had any say in it.

"Nope," she popped the 'p' loudly in his face.

A loud growl split the air, as not so gentle arms grasped her shirt. She fell to her normal height as Drake bombarded her, his fingers racing tickles all over her body.

She giggled loudly, her eyes tearing up  in the process. "Drake, stop!" she breathed out through the tickle war, turning around to try to get out of his grasp. His large hands found their way around her stomach, encircling her with his warmth.

He moved a strand of her light blonde behind her ear, his breath panning the side of her neck. "Give me my shirt, or this will be the least of your worries," he whispered into her ear, pronouncing each word slowly and delicately.

For some reason, all logic left Stephanie's smart brain. Perhaps her head had been hit a bit too hard by the crowbar when she was kidnapped.

"No, you dramatic goose! This is my shirt!," she laughed through the onslaught of tickles as his hands danced across her stomach.

"You will regret this, buttercup," he murmured under his breath. He stretched a hand out, grabbing something she couldn't see from the table.

God, this wasn't the time to clean the tabl-

In a matter of seconds, she was attacked by an avalanche of a cold sticky orange liquid. She held her hands out in a weak defence, but it was no use. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and little goosebumps trailed across her body as she squealed from the ice cold. The entirety of her body was covered, from her hair to her small toes.

The last of the liquid attacked her, as small ice cubes hit her square in the face. Her lips tasted oddly of squeezed oranges. She ran a hand across her eyes as she shivered, the temperature dramatically falling from hot to cold in a mere matter of seconds.

She glared at Drake, who stood above her with a now empty jug of tasty orange juice, a triumphant smile gracing his features.

"Now clean that up, maid."

Well dayum!! Not very nice Drake 😠😠😠

Little question : What's the worst situation you've ever experienced?

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Later alligators :)