I can't even walk up the stairs because the doorbell starts ringing. I don't give anyone else the chance to open the door as I hurry towards it. I'm assuming it's probably Adonis. He has a nasty habit of showing up unannounced.
Imagine my surprise when I open the door and see Adaline standing in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, bewildered, my eyes scanning her outfit.
She's wearing her usual leather jacket paired with black, cargo pants and a white-ribbed crop top. I try my best not to stare at her smooth toned midriff.
She sighs deeply. “I've come to confess my undying love for you.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”
“I'm here to tutor you,” she responds and I push down the urge to throttle her. I've made it clear to her that I do not want her in the same vicinity as my home, let alone inside it, tutoring me.
“I don't want you—”
“I know. You don't want me in your house.” She cuts me off, mimicking what I was about to say. I quirk my eyebrow up at her, waiting for her to continue. “That’s why you're coming to mine.”
Chapter NINE
A d a l i n e
Hereshe is. Juliette Kingston is inmyhouse; inmybedroom, sitting onmybed. Somehow, I'm not repulsed by the situation, but that's probably because I touched myself to the thought of her a couple of weeks ago, on this very bed.
I’ve tried to repress the thought since then and it’s been fairly easy, considering I’ve only been tutoring Juliette over email. She doesn’t even stop by Miss Kim’s anymore; she just orders for delivery.
I could have continued tutoring Juliette over email, but I need to properly see her progress. So, she needs to get over her problems as do I, because Ineedthat commendation letter sent off.
“I've compiled a list of flash cards that we need to revise. We can start with a quiz—”
“Do we have to? Can't we just do something easier?” She cuts me off, massaging her head as if she's so exhausted.
She didn't even fight with me when I told her that I would tutor her at my home, nor did she make any bitchy comments about my house. Instead, she insisted on driving her own car here and I happily obliged.
Part of me is satisfied by the peace, but the other part is bewildered at her muteness. It's also bothering me; I prefer it when she's bitchy for some reason. So obviously, I'm going to try my best to irritate her.
I fake a frown. “Aww, are you tired from a long day of doing nothing?”
Come on, I know this quiet act isn't going to last long. It's only a matter of time before she reverts back to her bitchy self—
“Fuck you.” She spits out harshly.Well, that was quick.
“No, thanks. You aren't my type,” I retort, taking note of the tension swimming in her intense blue eyes.
“I'meveryone'stype.”
She's so absolute in her statement. Not an ounce of doubt in her eyes and I can't refute it. She is gorgeous, that's obvious. If her personality wasn't so morbidly rancid, of course, she would be my type.
“Not mine.” I shoot back adamantly.
Her silky blonde hair isn't my type, nor are her siren-like blue eyes or her ethereal body. Not a single part of her is my type.
“What's your type then?” She crosses her arms like a petulant little child who isn't getting her way.
“Not you,” I repeat and at this point she's livid.
She storms up from my bed and gets in my face looking down on me. “You're so fucking—”
“Sexy? Intelligent? Hot as fuck?”
