Sleepover

I have realized, the older I get, the less fucks I give.

That's a good thing.

**~**

^ This still stands.

I'm back on my ranting game, y'all.

So I was on Pinterest, right?

I'm there, minding my business and looking for photos to make some book covers for my shit. Then I see this beautiful ass dark-skinned girl. Skin brown and popping, smile wide and white, hair all wrapped up and natural. Repping the motherland and shit. Di girl look good.

And my ass, knowing better but not caring, went into the comments.

There I see a bitch commenting about how she's beautiful BUT...

(Why do we ALWAYS have to be questioned?)

Anyways, this chick says, she's so beautiful but "there's no way her skin can be that flawless and even." Said, she probably used makeup to do it....

.......

...................

...

But why?

Why the fuck can't we just be?

Why can't her skin be that flawless sis? Why tf not...

This book isn't about race. It's not about color. And I won't make it.

But fuck if that didn't have me on the wrong side of my seat because no other skin tone gets questioned. When it's a dark-skinned girl, there's always a 'but'.

Don't fight me on this, I'm in muting mood.

Please excuse any recurring errors in this chapter, I ran through this.

**~**

"There." Arthur takes a step back to admire his good work.

Swinging my legs, I look down at my braced ankle that's now wrapped in a clear plastic bag. I told him I could take it off, but he said no and did this mess instead. "Good job," I praise, even though it's not a big deal.

"Are you ready? Cause I'm going to bed." His sister walks into the kitchen and leans against the wall with her arms crossed. She's wearing cotton shorts and a tank top and to be honest, she has a nice body. Firm too, which means she probably works out regularly. Maybe one day we can be gym buddies.

I nod at her. Arthur helps me off the counter and makes sure my feet are firmly on the ground then looks me in the eyes. "Don't let her intimidate you, okay?"

This guy... "You can't just say that, she's right there," I whisper back, shaking my head as I contemplate his mentality.

"And she can hear both of you," Andrea cuts in, sounding less than amused. My face burns in embarrassment.

"See look what you did." I drop my voice lower, scolding Arthur.

"What did I do?" He says incredulously, his eyes wide. He's so adorable and he doesn't even know it.

"You know what you did," I say, not really knowing what he did, but I like seeing him unhinged. He gives me a blank stare that says, 'Really, Grace? Really?'

"You know, you two are actually great for each other. Equal parts crazy and overdramatic," Andrea says, following up with a low snicker. It's probably one of the rare times when I see a smile on her face. When she's at school, she hardly does unless her friends are doing or saying something really funny.

"I know right." Arthur pulls me into his side by my waist with a wide grin, and all I can do is shake my head at him. He's the cutest.

"No," I shake my head at him, only for him to shrug it off.

The sister ignores me and acknowledges him with, "You are whipped, fucker." She gives him an amused glance before turning to me. "Come on." Then she leaves the room, not giving my limbs time to catch up to my brain.

"Am not!" Arthur shouts then leans down to bite a spot on my neck, making me giggle and push him away.

"See you in a bit," he says lowly next to my ear and squeezes my hip gently.

I follow Andrea up the stairs slowly and silently. I don't want to say anything in case she's still a teensy bit angry about Arthur blowing her off for me and shove me back down the stairs. I've had enough of falling on their property. One time is enough.

The farther we go up the stairs, the darker it gets, like she doesn't care enough to turn on the lights. It seems like they're home alone because I'm sure someone would've made an entrance after that shouting marathon they had.

At the top of the stairs, there's a hallway, but she takes a left instead of going down it. Walking toward a door that's already ajar, she pushes it open all the way and steps into the dark room without turning on the lights. Maybe she's the only one with an aversion to light then...

It's kind of creepy, but I'm happier that I haven't tripped yet, that wouldn't be a pleasant sight. Not like they'll even be able to see if I do.

Standing awkwardly in her doorway, I watch as she walks across the room, over to a pair of double doors, pulls them open and struts inside.

When she's out of sight, I advert my eyes, allowing them to take in her furniture. I can't make out details for obvious reasons, but I notice the huge bed against the wall across from me, another door I'm guessing leads to her bathroom, a desk, vanity, and dresser.

The lack of light and the wind whipping a set of curtains by the window creates a peace and calmness in the room. All it needs is a shore just outside the window and it would be perfect. I see why she hates lights so much. Everything is more peaceful in the dark.

"You can come in," she calls evenly from inside the closet.

I don't know how she knows I'm still in the doorway, but she scared me half to a heart attack. I take a few seconds to get myself together, then hesitantly, step into her room. My feet sink into a soft rug and I wiggle my toes--loving the feeling. It's like stepping on a cloud and I'm assuming this is how a cloud would feel.

"Arthur's never brought an actual girl home before."

I focus on Andrea walking out of her closet, eyes set on me, and try not to fidget under her stare.

Don't let her intimidate you, Grace. That's what Arthur said.

Too late, I'm squirming.

"An... actual girl?" I say. She would've seen my confusion if it wasn't so dark.

She waves. "Yeah, I can tell you're different. The others just wanted to get dicked down for the night." She stretches her hands toward me, holding out some clothes.

I take them from her. "Oh." That's... okay.

My gaze drops to the clothes in my hands as I try to decipher what they are. I unfold the piece of clothing on top first, feeling the material.

My eyes snap back up when I hear her sigh heavily, then the sound of her walking away. She falls down on her bed heavily, getting comfortable on her back.

"Doesn't matter. Don't think about his past too much." For a moment, I think about that because she tells me not to and my brain hates me. His past flings will get in the way at times but I can look past that. If anything ever happens between us anyway.

Eventually, I nod. "Sure." I play with the fabric between my fingers a bit more, frowning. "D'you really think they'll fit? We're really different... sizes."

"You'll make them fit if you don't want to walk around here naked," she says lazily. Her face lights up in the dark from her phone hovering above it. "And I'm sure Arthur won't let you sleep in those." She points at me, gesturing to what I'm wearing. I look down but only for a millisecond. "He'll make you sleep naked. Or he'll want you to."

Gaping, I swallow repeatedly before stuttering out, " H-How would y-you know?"

Her eyes move from her phone and to me. I see the faint smirk on her lips and I know she's going to say something inappropriate because that's the same look Arthur gives me when he's thinking or going to say something naughty. "Because he's my brother. And that's what I'd do."

Just as I thought. My face heats up, slapping me like a ton of bricks. My eyes fall to my feet, equal parts embarrassed and flattered. If they didn't look alike so much, anyone would know she and Arthur are related.

"Kidding," she assures after what feels like a forever of silence and tension. For me anyway. That's until she adds, "A little." She lets out an amused sound. "But those stretch. They'll definitely go on. But if they're not comfortable, go raid Arthur's closet. His shit's bigger and would fit better."

"You can use my bathroom, over there." She points to the door I'd seen earlier. "And keep the door shut until you're dressed entirely. As much as I'd like to see what you hide under those clothes, I have a girlfriend. She wouldn't like that."

Now I'm flustered. Don't get me wrong, I'm not into girls. She's no different, but she is beyond gorgeous and she's flirting with me. I think. Anyone's mind would be disoriented if they were in this position. Or uncomfortable.

I blink multiple times, trying to clear my head and get back on track. "Uhhh... okay."

"Oh and don't worry the underwear is new," she says after me as I near the bathroom.

I laugh incredulously, eyeing her. "Underwear? Okay, that's definitely not gonna fit. My waist is literally twice the size of yours and so is my-" I bite my tongue to stop myself. I'm sure she gets it.

"I can see that. But unless you plan on wearing the same one or going commando..."

Turning away from her before my face bursts into an inferno, I hurry the rest of the way to the bathroom. Both of those options are not in my favor. But I'll go with the latter if it comes down to it. Something she doesn't need to know.

"I won't stay long," I call over my shoulder. She hums in response but quickly adds that all the towels in the bathroom are new so I can use any one.

I feel for the light switch along the wall in the bathroom and close the door after me only when light floods the room. The blast of colors and light makes me blink rapidly as my eyes get used to the change. My eyes go to the ceiling to see she has stage lights as her light source and my mouth opens in awe. There are five lightbulbs shining different colors across the room, overlapping each other--blue, green, red, purple, and yellow.

Sitting the clothes down on the edge of the sink, I awe at the different colors and the fact that they're turning everything into a rainbow effect. It's so different from the darkness just outside the door. And her to be honest.

In school, she's this badass chick, almost always wearing full dark outfits, that this is the last thing I expected. It's not always black--she wears other colors--they're just always dark. This is such a flip from what she lets everyone see that it's almost bizarre. I wonder briefly if it's the same in her room but shake my head. Probably not.

I strip down and borrow one of her hair ties from on top of the sink to put my hair up in a bun. I hope she doesn't kill me for it.

Her shower stall is glass and I take my time sliding it open. Knowing me, if I tap it too hard it'll fall out and break. As soon as I'm in, music starts playing on the other side of the door--in her room. I turn the shower on, not expecting the water to shoot out of the showerhead first. The freezing water hitting my skin causing me to flinch and hold back a yelp. I quickly turn the faucet handle to lukewarm, hopping around as quietly as I can until the temperature changes to something more tolerable.

My hips sway to the beat of Rihanna's Needed Me. Despite the cursing, it's one of my favorite songs, and I can't help sing along, my mind shifting to a darker place. John. It seems that no matter what I do, he always pops up. Either in my mind or reality. He's always there, and it's a reminder why I can't get into anything with Arthur unless I'm one hundred percent sure that I'm over John.

I'm going to have to tell him that. It'll kill me for him to think I'm using him as a rebound because I know for sure that John and I are over, and I'm not really ready to get back into anything right now. I want to get rid of the lingering feelings that are still there for the twat first.

After showering, I stay under the water for a little bit before shutting it off. Sliding the glass door open, I step out onto the rug on the floor outside the tub. I take one of the towels on the rack and dry off. I drop the towel in the basket under the rack when I'm done before getting dressed.

I untangle the pieces of clothing and gape when I see the underwear. I cannot believe this is what she gave me.

In front of me is a Calvin Klein thong. Not only is it expensive but also, I don't wear thongs. I've had to remind my mother multiple times not to buy me them when she goes shopping and magically concludes that I need new underwear. It's just not my thing, but I guess this is where my 'no thong' rule breaks unless I wanted to go commando like Andrea said.

After staring at it for a while, I gulp and put it on. The waistband stretches so it isn't too uncomfortable around my waist. Other parts, however...

Let's just say that I'll have a permanent wedgy all night and probably be sore in the morning. I'll have to ask if I can have my things washed so I can change out of it by morning.

I put on the rest of my borrowed clothing and silently thank her for giving me things that stretch to fit my body. That doesn't mean they actually fit.

Looking at myself in the full-length mirror, the clothes make me look bigger than I actually am. Okay, that's a lie. I am that big. But my breasts are practically bursting through the T-shirt I'm in and the fabric is tighter around my stomach that was far from flat. The shorts don't help much either, stopping directly under my butt and showing off too much thigh and my stretchmarks.

I narrow my eyes at myself in the mirror. You're still fine, though. With that thought, I let a large grin take over my face. I'll be fine. Arthur's seen me in less anyways. The creep.

I fold my clothes back up and put them in a pile, then grab them on my way out of the bathroom.

Once I'm in the room, the light from the bathroom piercing through the darkness, I spot Andrea where I'd left her--still in bed.

"Hey, do you mind if wash my clothes here?" I ask.

I think she nods. "Just leave you stuff on the counter." She makes a gesture motion so I assume she's talking about the sink in the bathroom.

I take a slow step back but say, "I can do it by myself. Just show m-"

"I'm doing laundry in a little bit, " she cut me off, still looking at her phone. "You'll get them when they're done."

Her tone is enough to let me know that's the end of the conversation.

I mutter a low, "Okay," and put my things where she told me to.

"Arthur's room is down the hall. The door with all the bullshit on it," she says once I'm out again.

Before I leave, I thank her again, then for the clothes and letting me use her bathroom. She only pins me with a bored look that has me rushing out into the hall and closing her door behind me.

It doesn't take long for me to find his room, and it isn't because of what he has on his door but I did notice those too. It's because the door is already wide open and I can see and hear him moving around inside.

Pretending my entire body isn't shaking in nerves isn't an option. I mean, what if he doesn't like how I look in these? Every part of me that's supposed to be covered is trying to force their way out of these clothes.

Letting out a shaky breath, I twist my fingers together as doubt clouds my mind. Maybe I should just go home. This is a stupid idea. I was fine up until I got to this point and now I have no clue what to do.

I'm in the middle of convincing myself that going back home and walking into my parents' war is far better than this when movement causes me to look up swiftly.

Arthur's smiling that wonderful smile of his, his lip ring glinting off the light coming from his TV. My back straightens as he comes over to the door and the second his eyes start to wander over my body, I flush. From the top of my head down to my toes, inside and out.

"Huh." His voice is low and ominous. I can't decipher if that's a good 'huh' or a bad 'huh'. Then he says, "How long have you been standing there and why?" He pushes the door open wider and stuffs his hands in his pockets casually. His head tilts forward, causing his dark hair to fall across his forehead.

I swallow, hoping that'll help with me not stuttering out my next words. "For obvious reasons, I'm bearly dressed," I say sassily, playing off my nerves.

His lips turn up in his infamous smirk but his eyes don't leave mine. "I saw." I return a blank stare, the tension leaving my body by his lack of ogling. He chuckles and says a second later, "I can see your nipples, babe."

A wave of warmth runs over my skin and I don't even look down because I believe him. It's nothing more than the T-shirt being too snug. Before I can even think I'm saying his name like a curse and rushing toward him. I press myself against him boldly so he can't see anything.

"Oh, now they're against me," he says easily.

"Stop it!" I push myself off him but just enough that he can't feel it.

He looks down at me, his eyes mischievous as well as his grin. He's having a lot of fun. "What are you? Like a thirty-eight D?"

I jerk, tilting my head back to gape at him.

His grin gets wider. "It is. Yeah, it is."

"What are you?" I whisper in astonishment.

He laughs boisterously and I feel his arm snake around my waist and pull me into him, then the door closes with a loud click. He leads me into the room with his arm over my shoulder.

I take in his room and the first thing my eyes move to is his desk pushed into the far left corner because it's the only place in the room that's chaotic. The surface is overflowing with books, but mostly sketchpads. There are two easels standing on either side of the desk with art pieces on them, and countless others are leaned against the wall, stocked in front of each other. The walls are covered in colorful drawings and sketches too.

"You wanna watch a movie?" Arthur says, dropping his arm from around me and walking toward his bed.

I look away from the most fascinating part of his room, so sure that some of the sketches could've been me, but there aren't any faces on them. "Uhh," I turn to him, "no, not really."

Not even a second later, the lights go out and I'm blinking rapidly as my eyes adjust to the drastic change. I swear, I can't keep up with them.

A few seconds later, I'm getting a little nervous since he doesn't say anything and I can't see him. "Arthur?"

"C'mere." I hear him call from across the room.

I half stumble over in the direction I last saw him, my hands outstretched. Soon, my fingers are brushing against the fabric of his shirt, then his hands are gripping my waist. He pulls me closer and I place my hands on his shoulders to balance myself.

Not long after that, I'm shrieking, "Arthur!" I use my hands to cover my chest as best as I can.

He'd taken my shirt off! He did it so quick and smooth that I almost didn't notice but it's hard to act like I'm not shirtless when a cool breeze sweeps into the room through his open balcony doors, making my skin prickle.

"Don't worry, I can't see anything. I promise I'm not looking. If I was, you'd be moaning so loud that someone would think I'm committing murder." He says, nonchalant. My face heats up for the millionth time. How can he say that like it's nothing? "Arms up."

It isn't a question but I shake my head anyway even though he probably can't see. "Do you want to go to jail?" I retort, my voice rising to the point of hysteria. I hold myself tighter. No way am I moving my arms for him to fondle my goods. Nope. Nada. Nuh-uh.

"Grace. I'm not going to touch you- no promises. But I'm going to give you my shirt because it's obvious you're gonna sleep with your arms crossed if you stay in this one," he says lowly. I don't miss the 'no promises' part though.

I cave easily at the promise of being in a more comfortable shirt. Sighing, I nod, "Fine."

He slides the shirt over my head, and I shove my hands through the sleeves in quick movements. But he isn't done.

He lets his hands slide down my body, underneath the fabric, his thumbs brushing the sides of my breasts, then down my sides, and stop on my waist.

By the end of that, I'm holding back shivers and failing. I've never been touched like this before, hence my heavy breathing at the moment. His breathing is as loud and heavy as mine and the worse part is, I don't stop him even though I know I should.

His hands then move from my hips around my back then down the back of my shorts.

Jesus is Lord.

"W- what are you doing?" I breathe out, with every intention to stop him but the rest of my words die faster than main characters in movies. What is he doing?

You're going to hell Grace.

I know.

He drags his nonexistent nails across the skin of my butt, then flattens his palms to rub them, before he pushes the shorts down my legs so that they're pooling at my feet.

"She gave you a thong." It doesn't sound like a question so I don't answer.

He's dragging his hands up and down the sides of my thighs now, then in lazy circles. Soon, he's walking me backward, not stopping until the back of my knees hit the edge of his bed. He picks me up in one swift movement and throws me on his king-sized bed. My scream is short-lived, turning into a fit of laughter as I move up on the soft, bouncy surface, away from him when he gets in and starts crawling toward me while making weird growling noises.

I feel the blood rushing in my body, my heart pumping so fast it's as if it's preparing for its last beat by going into overdrive. I stare at Arthur above me, our chests slightly brushing against each other.

"You're crazy, Arthur Kingsley," I say, smiling up at him.

He chuckles--a low, hoarse sound--and leans down to bury his face in my neck. "That I am." He says before pulling at the skin on my neck with his teeth. I draw in a sharp breath, closing my eyes when he kisses the spot softly.

"Since I don't want your dad to kill me, I won't mark you like I want to. Not now anyway." He runs a hand from my waist down to my thighs, guiding my leg around his hip. The shirt had ridden up on my body, exposing my lower half including my stomach. "I can't get enough of you, Gorgeous." His other hand moves up, tangling in my hair, while the other continues to massage my skin.

I let out a nervous laugh, not believing this is actually happening. This is happening to me. With Arthur. Freaking Arthur Kingsley!

"Yeah, I can see that." My voice is on the verge of squeaking but I don't let that happen. I keep my mouth shut to prevent it.

"I can stop..." He suggests but his hand is still moving against my skin, his other lightly brushing my hair.

"I know you won't." I tease, forcing myself to relax.

"Yeah, you're right." He says in that smug way of his.

"This going to ruin the mood but..."

"It's something about Dom isn't it?" Arthur sighs, already over the conversation.

"John," I correct him automatically.

"That's what I said." He answers, sounding irritated.

Well, isn't someone snappy. He and my dad would get along great together.

We're lying comfortably in the middle of his bed. He's on his back and I'm snuggled into his side, my leg over one of his and his arm around my back, running along my spine through the shirt. I'm still looking up at him through my eyelashes even though he's told me multiple times to stop looking at him like that because, "You're too f*cking sexy Grace", but I can't help it. I want to look at him. He's too pretty not to.

It's the perfect night to have a sleepover. The rain is beating down heavily on the roof and outside his balcony, we're having a thunderstorm, his laptop that's sitting on his bedside table next to us is playing music and giving off the only light in the room. We'd been watching the rain before I started staring at him but I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything.

Like I said, perfect.

It's almost eleven and I'm nowhere near sleepy. Arthur has plans to stay up all night but he's a lone man on that mission because I need my sleep.

I rest my cheek against his bare chest, running my hand from his shoulder to the side of his neck and back, trying to get rid of the tension that I caused. "I just wanted to ask you something," I whisper.

I don't want him to be miserable now. I know it might seem as if I'll run back to John the second he sounds sincere enough, but I won't. I want Arthur to trust that I won't. But I can't help that I have questions and I'm a curious person.

When he doesn't answer, I ask anyway. "If you knew he was cheating why didn't you tell me?"

He lets out a slow breath, his body sinking with the motion. He's still tense, but his hand is soft as it moves over my hip. "I've only heard rumors, but I didn't want to be the one to break that to you. Especially, since I wasn't sure if it was true and I'm still not. I'm not gonna be an asshole and lie to you. And we weren't even friends, Grace. I doubt you'd want to hear that from me. Besides, I wanted you to see that for yourself, and lookie you did." His other hand moves up to tug my hair in endearment.

I find myself smiling at that. Although it would've been great for someone to be on my side and tell me something, I understand where he's coming from.

My phone starts ringing on the bedside table and my father's face lights up the screen. Of course, he's calling at this time of night. I bet he thinks he's interrupting something.

I lean up to get it before it rings for too long and he starts jumping to conclusions, then lean back, pressing my body into Arthur's again. You can't blame me, he's warm and cuddly.

"Dad, it's eleven o'clock," I answer the phone. I bury my face in Arthur's neck, inhaling the pleasurable smell of old spice and cologne.

"Wrong parent." My mom replies.

"Mom? Why didn't you use your phone?" I ask curiously, quickly becoming worried. "You didn't kill him did you?"

Arthur pulls my shirt up so that my butt isn't covered anymore. Taking in a deep breath, I try not to think of his hands gliding slowly down my spine.

"Oh, nothing!" She says a little too cheery. She doesn't answer the second question.

"Were you lurking?" I know she was. She doesn't always do it but when she does, she calls me afterward to get rid of the guilt of going through her husband's phone.

"No." She scoffs. It sounds a bit too forced for me to be convinced. "I just wanted to check in. Oh, and tell Arthur I say hi."

My head snaps around to look at Arthur's balcony door. It's closed and the curtains are drawn. So how does she...

"How do you-"

"I don't." I can almost see the triumphant look on her face.

"I-I-"

"Look, as long as you're not doing anything risky, there's no need for me to come over there and drag you out by your front teeth. I am not ready for grandkids." She says the last part strictly.

An involuntary shiver goes down my spine and I feel Arthur shift to look down at me. "I'm not."

Arthur's hands land on the exposed flesh of my butt, gripping me before I can brace myself. I jerk, rocking forward, and have to strain to hold back a yelp. He starts rubbing my skin gently, sensually, and I stop breathing, not wanting my mom to hear the change. All my attention is on his hand, gripping and roaming every exposed part of my body he can reach.

"How is Arthur doing?"

Arthur answers her question with a low, "Great", only for my ears. Then rakes his nails up my skin and smooths it down with his palms. He keeps doing this over and over, effectively driving me crazy.

"He's umm... he's good." He lets out a quiet chuckle and I feel one of his fingers tracing the fabric of the thong, from the top of my butt all the way down. "We're watching a movie in the living room." I lean forward and bite down on his neck, either telling him to stop or keep going. I don't know what I want right now.

"All right. I'll let you get back to it. Talk to you tomorrow. Good night."

"Night, mom." I hang up, throwing my phone carelessly on the bed, and before his hand can go any farther, I sit up. I'm already slapping him between my words, but all he does is laugh and try to dodge them. "I. Can't. Believe. You. Did. That!" I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at his laughing face. "That was my mom, Arthur." I scowl when he keeps laughing.

He settles down, chuckling. "I know." His hand moves up my leg, his fingers tickling the inside of my thigh, and inching closer to my lady parts.

I slap his hands away, still not happy. "You're gonna get me in trouble."

He sits up, circling his arms around my waist and pulling me on top of him before falling back on the bed.

"That's only if we get caught." He kisses my neck and I let him.