Author's Note: So, Wattpad makes me really mad, like how it's not counting all the chapter reads. It's just so annoying, I think. Just felt the need to share that with you all. Also, my new story, Poor Little Rich Girl for those of you who don't know, is coming on the 19th of this month. The prologue of it is up on my second account, @gratify, in case you wanna read it, but the story will go up on this account on April 19, so next Friday. I've mentioned that before, but yeah. And lastly, check out that banner over there. This chapter is dedicated to nardia_85, because she made it and I think it's really adorable. So, yeah. Don't forget to comment and vote and such! ♥

Chapter 24 - I'm A Busy, Busy Bee...Buzz

"Why don’t you love me?” I whine, pouting at Bradley.

“I do love you,” He replies. “I’m not making you bacon though.”

“If you really loved me you’d make me bacon.” I counter.

Bradley and I are in the kitchen of cabin and I’m trying to get him to make me bacon. He’s refusing. I’m sitting on one of the bar stools, spinning around and he’s leaning against the counter eating an apple. I don’t think the rest of the guys are up, as it’s 10:30. Heck, if it wasn’t for Bradley I wouldn’t even be up right now.

He’s got this weird thing where he wakes up ridiculously early, and like, for no apparent reason. I mean, sure I can see why you’d get up early on a school day or something, but Spring Break? My boyfriend, he’s so weird. I love being able to say it. My. Boyfriend. Speaking of my boyfriend, I think we’re both pretty clear that we’re throwing around the ‘L’ word in a totally casual, platonic way. I mean, we haven’t been together twenty-four hours yet, of course we aren’t already using the ‘L’ word in that sense.

“I’ll make you cereal.” Bradley offers in chipper tone.

“Cereal is not bacon.” I say stubbornly.

“And I am not your personal Chef,” He retorts, laughing at his joke.

"Yes, but you’re my boyfriend and boyfriends feed their girlfriends.”

“That’s true, I guess.” Bradley replies, taking a bite from his apple.

I nod, “It is very true. So according the rule book, you kinda have no choice.” I say teasingly.              

“Rule book? I was unaware of this book.”

"Well,” I say, jumping down off of the bar stool and walking around the counter to him. “It exists.”

“Oh?”

“The Big Book of Relationships.” I explain.

"That sounds completely and totally legit.” Bradley plays along as I hop up on the counter in front of him.

 “I know it does.” I retort. My stomach growls and I groan. “See, did you hear that? I’m starving!”

“I just told you I’d make you cereal.”

“You are a terrible boyfriend.”                          

“I am not.” Bradley defends. “I made smores with you in negative degree weather.”

“True, okay, I guess you’re not too bad.”

Bradley scoffs, “Please, I think we both know you’re crazy about me.” He walks closer to me, resting the palms of his hands on my thighs. “But that’s okay. I’m pretty crazy about you too.”

“Yeah?” I ask, my voice coming out in a squeak. God, he’s turning me into a mouse.

Bradley nods, “If it wasn’t obvious, I’ve kinda liked you for about, the last three years.”

My jaw drops and I hit him in the shoulder. Of course, my tiny fist has virtually no effect on him, but I tried anyways. “Why’d you never tell me, you jerk face?” I ask, feigning anger.

Bradley looks down, suddenly interested in the cotton material and pattern of my pajamas shorts. “I dunno.” He murmurs.

“What was that?”

"I dunno.” He repeats, looking up at me, and sighing. “You would have said no. Like, immediately.”

“Maybe not.”

“Definitely,” Bradley disagrees. “You may have actually been more stubborn then than you are now. And that’s saying something.”

“Please, I am not stubborn.”

“You’re the stubborniest person I know.”

“That isn’t a word, smarty pants.”     

“Well,” Bradley says, trying to think of a response. “I’m not even wearing pants, so who looks dumb now?”

“Still you,” I answer, giggling and looking down at his gym shorts. “Gym shorts are still pants, stupid.”

He throws his hand over his chest in mock hurt, “And you say I’m the one who doesn’t love you. You wound me.”

“You poor, poor child.” I tell him sarcastically. “Hey!”

"What?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You still haven’t fed me.” I remember as my stomach growls again. “My stomach is demanding food.”

“Why do you think I can cook?” He wonders with a small laugh.

“Because, everyone can make bacon.”

“Including you, which is why you should make us both some.”

I groan, “Nope, too much moving. I’d have to get the bacon, find a pot, make sure there’s grease, watch it and manage not to get burned.” I explain.

Bradley nods understandingly, “No, yeah, I gotcha. That’s a very innovative task for the intellectually delayed.”

“Exactly,” I agree, swinging my feet back and forth, letting him the counter.

“But before that,” He says, stepping back in between my legs.

"Yes?”

“I need a good morning kiss, you know, for motivation.”

“For motivation, right.” I reply, giggling.

Since I’m sitting on the counter, and Bradley’s standing at his full - ridiculously high - height, we’re on the same eye level, which is different. His hands stay put on my thighs, twining the cotton of my shorts in his fingers slyly and I put my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me as I push my lips against his. Our kiss is sweet and simple, until I decide to be the one in charge for a change, and run the tip of my tongue across his lower lip. A throaty moan emits from his, well, throat, and he opens his mouth slightly.

As cheesy as it sounds, I swear it feels like a huge stick of red dynamite, the kind that’s always on cartoon shows or whatever, is sitting in the pit of my stomach and it just blew up. Right then when my and Bradley’s tongues touched. Not that it’s the first time, but still. The room - well the entire cabin, pretty much - is eerily quiet, except for the quiet sound of our lips moving in synch. Well, if I listen close and hard enough, I can probably hear the boys snoring right now, but that’s beside the point. His hands grapple my thighs, which causes me to tighten my grasp on his neck.

Well, it was nice being a virgin while it lasted, a whole eighteen years, might I add, but I don’t think my erm…albatross, i.e., my virginity, is gonna last much, much longer. Not that I’m saying it’s gonna happen anytime soon, not even that it’s gonna happen, I just think it will, you know, in the not too far off distance. A few months, probably, if I can last that long. I do have standards, after all, and one of them being, I’m not going to do a guy I’ve only been dating a day. Fourteen hours and twenty minutes, to be exact. God, why am I so weird?

“Well, well, well, aren’t you two just a box of rainbows and unicorns?” Alison’s voice says as she enters the room.

“Please go away.” I murmur, not pulling away from Bradley.

I don’t care if Alison is right here watching, Bradley is my boyfriend. And if I wanna kiss my boyfriend I’ll kiss him, dammit. Besides, since she’s so keen on the idea that Walker cheated (is cheating?) on her with me - which is so far from the truth, it’s actually kinda ridiculous - maybe if she knows I’m with Bradley officially and exclusively, she’ll back off and stop hating me. I doubt it though. She’s just a mean person, and I think she’d find a reason to continue hating me. Not that I care. I only tolerate her for Walker’s sake. If it weren’t for him, I would have at least attempted to kick her ass by now. Metaphorically of course. I don’t fight, like, I never have actually gotten into a fist fight with someone. I’m just a really…passive girl, I guess.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Alison replies. “I’m starving, is anyone making breakfast?”

"Bradley is.” I tel her. “Bu--“             

“Oh, good, remember; I’m a vegetarian, Bradley, so make something that works around the meat, okay?”

I pull away from Bradley- against my first mind- and raise an eyebrow at Alison who’s leaning against the kitchen island with a smile on her face. “He’s my chef, not yours. He’s making breakfast for me and him, not you.”

“Well, that’s not very hospitable is it?”

“We’re Michiganders; we’re not very hospitable people. You being a prime example.” Bradley mutters.

"I beg your pardon?” Alison asks, running her hand through her long blonde hair.

I know this sounds terrible, but I honestly think that Walker only likes her for her looks. Well, deep down I know that isn’t true, but honestly I don’t see any other reason for him to love that ogre. She’s beautiful; I’ll give her that much, but besides that, Alison’s a truly despicable human being. I dunno the semantics of her and Walker’s relationship, nor do I wish to know them. Maybe she’s a totally different person when they’re together. Like, a person with a heart, you know, and warm flowing blood.

"Nothing,” Bradley says, shaking his head and forcing a smile.

“So, you two are…what friends with benefits?” She asks, taking an orange from the fruit bowl.

“No, we’re not friends with benefits, Alison, and if you’d go away, that’d be super amazing.” I tell her.

“I was hoping we could bond on this trip, Sydney, we’ve never really talked.” Alison says, still smiling.

“There’s a reason for that.”

“And that is?”

“I don’t like you!” I say exasperatedly.

“What? Why wouldn’t you like me?”

“Take a guess.”

Alison sniffles, putting her hand over her heart. “That’s really mean. Like, I don’t know what I did, but I’m so sorry.”

I narrow my eyes at her, “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything. That just hurt my feelings, that’s all. Oh, Walker, I didn’t see you there, baby.”

That causes me and Bradley to both turn around, seeing Walker standing against the wall with his hands pushed down into the pocket of his gym shorts, and no shirt on. Oh, how I wish my friends would stop walking around without their shirts on. I mean, we’re in a freaking cabin in Colorado; they’re gonna get sick. I don’t mind that Bradley does it now, since we’re, you know, together, of course.

“Walker, hey.” I say, hopping down off of the counter. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” He replies, tiredly. “What’s going on? Alison, why are you crying?”

Alison shakes her head, walking over to Walker and wrapping her arms around him. “Sydney just said something, but it’s okay.”

Walker cocks his head to the side, sending me a pleading look. “Sydney.” He says in a reprimanding tone.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“She said she doesn’t like me, Walker. And I want your friends to all like me.” Alison blurts.

Ha, fat chance considering we all hate you. I mentally reply to her fake sweet and sincere tone. “Sydney, please?”

“Please what?” I ask, crossing my arms and raising my eyebrows.

“Please don’t be difficult.” He says lowly.

“Me? How about her? I’m not the problem here, sh--“

"Sydney,” Bradley says from behind me, putting his hand on the small of my back. “Don’t say it.”

“I’m sick of her Bradley, I’m so sick of her.” I tell him.

“I know, but don’t do it.”

“What were you saying, Sydney?” Walker asks.

“Nothing,” I retort, exhaling deeply.

Walker’s eyes light up and he says, “I have a really good idea.”

“What is it, baby?” Alison asks, wiping the nonexistent tears from her face.

“Well, I know that you and Sydney have…creative differences, so I know how we can resolve that.” Yeah, she can go back to Michigan. Or Guadalajara. That’d be nice. 

“What’d you have in mind?” Bradley asks.

“How about the four of us hang out tonight? So you guys can get to know each other a little better?”

Alison shrieks, clapping her hands excitedly, “That’s a great idea Walky!” Walky, she called him Walky. I call him Walky. She cannot call him Walky. That is my nickname for him and I reserve ownership of it.

“Right?” He exclaims, then looks at me. “What do you say, Syd?”

My eyes widen and I blink a few times, “You know, I actually don’t think that’s such a great idea. Because, I-I, um, I’m gonna be busy at that time.”       

“I didn’t say a time.” Walker reminds me.

“All the time. I’m just a little busy, busy bee.” I tell him chirpily. “Buzz!”

“Sydney, a word please?” Walker asks, sighing.

“Fine,” I groan, walking away from Bradley and over to Walker.  “What?”

“Alison, give us a minute.” He tells his girlfriend and she obediently walks off, sitting on the couch.

“Sydney, why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“You know like what.” He retorts.

“No, I really don’t.” I argue.

“Why don’t you like Alison?”

Okay, so, I never told Walker about the things Alison and I spoke about that rainy day a few weeks back. I didn’t wanna damage his image of his perfect girlfriend, and even though I can’t stand her, I would rather Walker be happy than me. That goes for them all though; I’d give up my own happiness if it meant they’d all be happy. That’s all I want for my four friends, and my boyfriend. Sure, I could have said five friends, but Bradley deserves his own category, now that he’s my boyfriend.

“It’s not that I don’t like her, Walker.” Yes it is. “It’s just…she's kinda…you know.”

“What?”

“She’s kinda rude. And she obviously doesn’t like me. I know you hear her talking to me like shit.”

“She does not.”

“Yeah, she kinda does!” I say in a strained whisper.

Walker sighs, “Sydney, I love her. And I love you. I love you both so much and I want you to get along. Please?”

Like I said, I’d give up my happiness just to make him happy. “What do you want me to do?”

“Hang out with her. Make an effort. She’s awesome, Sydney, all you gotta do is give her a chance.”

“I really, really don--“

“If not for yourself, do it for me? Please?” He asks, giving me his best pouty face.

I roll my eyes; unable to say no. Walker has the most  persuasive pouty face ever. I think it’s because whenever he does it, he looks like what I’d imagine an emotionally scarred child would look like. His brown eyes get huge, like as big as saucers and he just stares into your eyes without blinking until he gets what he wants. Stupid bastard.

"Okay, fine.” I say annoyed.

“I love you.” He tells me, hugging me tightly.

“Yeah, sure you do.” I murmur, hugging his slightly.

“I’m not pulling away until you say it back.” Walker says in a sing-song voice.

“I love you too, Walker.” I retort.

Walker let’s go kisses my forehead, “You’re the best.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

He smiles widely and says, “So we’re all hanging out today,” He announces.

“Super.” I reply sarcastically, walking back around the counter to where Bradley is.

Luckily he’s started making the bacon. It’s about time too, because I’m starving.  “We’ll just be in our room.” Walker tells us, pulling his girlfriend out of the room with him.

“Jesus Christ,” I say, sitting down at the table. “That was painful.”

“You’re doing a good thing. It means a lot to Walker that his best friends like his girlfriend.”

I sigh, “Yeah, I know, but like, why does he care so much? I wouldn’t care if I were him.”

Bradley shrugs, still focused on not burning the bacon, “I dunno. I mean, he probably doesn’t wanna feel like he has to choose. If you two are friends, then he’d be comfortable hanging out with both of you at the same time.”

“I guess so.” I agree. “Well, what about you guys?”

“What about us?”

“He has no idea that none of you like her?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘no idea’, he probably has his suspicions. But unlike you, sweetie, we’re good at hiding our emotions.”

“You especially.” I retort.

“Yes, me especially.”

“You know, considering you liked me all this time, and never told me.”

“But now you know and we’re together so everything’s good.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Nuh-uh?” Bradley repeats, looking over at me.

“Nu-uh.”

“Why not?”

“Everything’s not good, everything’s great.” I correct. “Aside from the fact that we’ve gotta hang with the ogre today.”

Bradley cracks a smile, and says, “I guess you’re right.”

“Course I am.” I say, jumping up out of my seat and walking near the stove where he is.

“Are you ADHD? You can never seem to stay still.”

“Not that I know of. I just remembered that we got interrupted earlier.”

“We did, didn’t we?” He replies, turning away from the stove.

I nod, slightly biting on my lower lip and Bradley leans down, about to kiss me. I close my eyes, waiting, but I don’t feel his lips against mine. “What are you doing?” I pout.

“They’re coming.” He says. “I can hear them.”

"Them who?” I ask, shaking my head and opening my eyes.

"Do I smell bacon?” Mikey’s voice booms as he comes into the kitchen, followed by Drew and Tanner.

I love my friends, but dammit in that moment I want to smack all three of them across their faces. And neither of them are wearing shirts. They’re gonna get sick, and I’m not taking care of them. Nope, not gonna do it. Mikey steals a piece of bacon from the pot, dropping it in his mouth and chomping on it. Tanner opens the refrigerator and takes out the carton of Orange Juice, taking a swig straight from it. Drew bids us both good mornings before grabbing the remote - it’s like, the kitchen and the living room aren’t separated per se by a wall - and turns the TV on, going to some college basketball game and turning it up sky high.

“Later,” Bradley whispers, kissing my temple and turning back to the bacon.

“I’m holding you to that.” I warn.

“I’d expect nothing less.” He retorts with a boyish grin.