The Best Friend's Contract novel Chapter 19

Kenna

There's nothing better than waking up in the morning close to someone's warmth. Not just that, but being able to feel the person wrapping their arms around our waist, too. Somehow, it's an acceptance towards our presence which is undeniably soothing.

My eyes are slowly opening due to the movement beside me, making me furrow my brows. The last time I checked, there was no such things as having pets inside my apartment for me to be able to feel any sort of movement near me nor do I live with a roommate.

Familiar brown hair.

As I rub both of my eyes, I try to focus onto the familiar face in front of me. Shaped thick eyebrows and eyelashes, perfectly defined nose and puckered pink lips. It's no doubt that the person in front of me is born beautiful—then again, he seems fairly familiar.

''Who are you?'' I question, my voice low.

He pulls me closer towards him by the waist as he opens both of his eyes, a pair of brown orbs staring back at me with confusion while he frowns. Our eyes widen at the same time as soon as we realise the current situation which causes him to push me down, making me drop onto the ground with a loud thud.

Well, I've never been pushed down by a guy before. I quickly sit up straight and take a closer look at my best friend's figure who has mimicked my action—instantly staring back at me for a few seconds. Confusion has never caused me to overthink except for now which is acceptable.

''Bro, you pushed me off the couch! What a gentleman,'' I roll my eyes in annoyance before tying my hair up into a messy ponytail, rubbing onto my arm that was receiving the impact.

''Kenna, what are you doing here?'' He asks, eyes looking directly at me. Within seconds, I am already laughing out loud on the ground with both of my hands clutching onto my stomach before sitting beside him, poking onto the bridge of his nose—surprising him.

My lips curve up into a smile, ''Dude, you're in my apartment. This is my living room and we're on my couch—I should be the one asking you that question but I don't suffer from any memory loss. Don't you remember what we did, last night?'' I pout, leaning closer.

His jaw clenches immediately, ''What did we do?''

''You're hurting my heart,'' I pretend to be upset as I lift my shirt up to reveal the light bruise on my stomach near my waist which causes both of his eyes to widen in surprise. He continues to stare at my bruise as he runs his fingers through his hair—completely believing this, ''It could have gotten a bit more passionate and sensual but you fell asleep,'' I add.

''Man, I'm sorry . . . I don't remember,'' His voice low, somehow unsure. Then, he looks up into my blue eyes, ''Kenna, I'm really sorry. Why didn't you stop me?'' He asks, pulling himself closer towards the sofa as he tries his best to distance himself from me.

The look on his face shows the amount of regret which causes me to lean back and laugh, without having the strength to hold it back any longer. Aidan, on the other hand, stares at me in confusion—not understanding the meaning of my sudden laughter. Then, I lift my shirt up again, showing him the bruise which I had gotten from bumping myself into the kitchen counter.

''Aidan! Why on earth would you give me a hickey on my stomach?'' I try to control my laughter as he frowns, ''I got this a couple of days ago because I bumped into the kitchen counter and nothing happened last night! I fell asleep minutes after you did,'' I add, smiling.

''Fuck you,'' He breathes out.

Just as I'm about to say something, the sudden doorbell causes both of us to react. We turn to look at one another before quickly running towards the front door—eyeing from the camera. Our eyes widen at the sight of our mothers, standing patiently as they both wait for the door to open which freaks us out, slowly moving away from the door.

''What are we going to do?'' I panically, ask.

Aidan glances down at his wrist watch before muttering curses under his breath, ''Damn it. I'm late for work and I have a meeting that starts in half an hour,'' He runs towards the living room to pick up his phone which has—thirty missed calls from Flynn and ten messages.

''Today is my day off,'' I happily say, making him roll his eyes at my direction as he begins to pinch the bridge of his nose; thinking of a proper excuse or probably a better idea to get out of this mess with both of our mothers outside my apartment, repeatedly pressing the doorbell.