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Sometimes being me was harder on some days. As much as I loved Henry’s friendship, I harbored a crush for his best friend. Patrick wasn’t any normal girl’s cup of tea. He swore more than a sailor did, called most people ‘tits’, and had a terrible reputation on the account he had dead bugs inside his pencil pouch.

Which he did. I still had a crush on him.

I tried to tell my best friend, Kelly, about this crush, but before I could Patrick shoved a middle schooler into a nearby locker.

“Ugh, how could he be so mean? I don’t understand any of them,” Kelly held her books closer to her chest.

“Any of them?” I questioned. “Belch is very nice.”

“Belch is nice when its convenient to him,” Kelly said with more bitterness than usual. I wanted to ask her more about that. Until Patrick ruined my chance.

“Hi, tits,” Patrick greeted Kelly with a sneer. Kelly rolled her eyes. Kelly was more sensitive to the ‘tits’ comment after everyone had started a rumor that a fifteen year old had ‘the breast implants of a porn star’. I could see her swallow her mean thoughts. She leaned into me.

“Call me when you get home. I still don’t fucking trust him,” Kelly said before she walked away. Patrick cocked a brow and watched her leave.

“Stuck up bitch,” he said. His eyes returned to me. “All of you rich girls think you’re better than guys like me.”

“I don’t think I’m better than you,” I told him. “I know I’m smarter though.”

“Do you now?” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Look, Henry’s not going to be with us. He’s got something up his ass today. So, I’m just walking you home. Unless you think I’m going to kill you on the way there.”

“No, you wouldn’t kill me unless I pissed you off.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t just strangle you on a whim?” The question floated in the air as we stepped into the autumn air. The breeze bit my cheeks, but my favorite cardigan kept me warm. Patrick wouldn’t actually harm me. He shoved boys younger than him around, but never girls. Or at least, I hadn’t seen him bully girls as bad as he bullied boys.

“Y/N?” Patrick snapped my attention back to him. “You okay?” In that moment, I was more than thankful for Henry ducking out this afternoon for Patrick and me to be alone. Henry had his suspicions for weeks, but he figured out who my secret crush was after he saw Patrick’s hand brush by my arm. I can’t imagine how red my face was now.

“I’m-I’m fine,” I lied to myself. We started walking. The weather created noise around us, until Patrick broke his silence first.

“You bite your fingernails a lot,” Patrick observed.

“Oh, it’s just a thing. Not a big deal,” I tried to push my motor tic to the back of my mind. While close friends like Kelly and Henry knew of my Tourette’s, they never pointed my tics out unless I harmed myself. Patrick didn’t know. I tried to let it slide. My fingers started snapping.

“You got a song in your head or what, tits?” Patrick’s tone bite more than he realized. Maybe I read too much into it. Or maybe he did hate me and I was just a silly girl with a silly crush.

“Uh no,” I wasn’t good at explaining myself. I never was. The first time I met my new stepmother I kept “meowing” at her. She loves me very much, but I can imagine meeting an eleven year old who meows wasn’t a great first impression. I watched Patrick’s hair flow in the wind. He looked so angelic, but I knew how rotten he could be. I wished in my heart I wouldn’t meow at him.

“Patrick,” I shifted my whole body, trying to calm myself down. I still snapped my fingers together as if I was some 50’s greaser. “Do you like fall? Its my favorite season.”

“Yeah. Everything dies,” Patrick’s smirk returned to his face. “I like watching everything decaying. The leaves, the bugs—fuck! Ow! Why the hell did you hit me?” I tried to suppress my tics, but I felt as if I lost control of my body…again.

“I’m sorry. It’s my tics. I have Tourette’s, remember?”

Patrick’s face turned upward as if he was trying to remember something. When he shook his head, another wicked smile took place on his face. Maybe he wasn’t mad at me after all?

“Isn’t that the cussing on accident curse or something?” Patrick laughed. “I bet you say a lot of filthy words and get away with it, don’t you?”

“No. Not really,” I thought Patrick would be different, but it seemed every boy I liked wanted to know how much I cussed rather than asking if I was okay. I felt an arm go around my shoulders.

“So, you’re twitchy. What else can you do?”

“Uh-I bite my fingernails a lot.”

“I knew that. I meant what can you show me?”

“I can’t just show you things. It’s out of my control.”

“Wait, seriously? It’s not all just for attention?” Patrick laughed. His comment hurt, but I had all of his attention now.

“No. I really can’t control it.”

“You’re a freaky little twitch. Gasp! Twitch is your new name now.”

“What?! No!”

“Everybody!” Patrick cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled into the neighborhood. “I gotta walk Twitchy home! She’s not feeling all that well! Be careful! She bites!”

“What? I don’t bite!” I shoved him.

“There she goes again! She hit me! Did you see that?” Patrick tickled me at my sides, and I felt my anxiety melt away. I shoved him in his chest again just to watch him dramatically fall over. He jumped back up and tackled my torso. He brought my body over his shoulder, never minding the homework that fell out of my books.

“Patrick!” I laughed.

“You’re dangerous, Twitchy,” Patrick commented. “Somebody’s gotta control you.”

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After you closed the door behind you, you noticed how Ramsay’s chest rose and fell evenly. His shirt was missing, revealing his delicious abs. After the first time, you’ve been trying to get peeks since then. Carefully, you touched and undid his belt just enough to get to the prize. You unzipped his pants and reached for his member.

This was crazy. Who the hell gets drunk out of their mind and sneaks into their hot—I mean, asshole neighbor’s place? You began to touch him as he was sleeping. He was so big in your hand that you let yourself giggle. When you started a good rhythm, that’s when he woke up.

“Wha—what the fuck? Y/N? Fucking crazy bitch! What are you—you’re drunk!” Ramsay smirked at you and sat up. His penis hung out of his pants, staring at you. “Sit down, you crazy ass girl scout.”

You did as he said and sat down, smirking at him.

“Aren’t you going to say hello or should we just—

“Hi! I’m here. Your door was unlocked,” you interrupted. Ramsay started laughing.

“Yes. I can see you’re here. You were giving me a handjob. Hello. How are you?”

“I’m drunk!”

“You’re far away from drunk, sweetheart,” Ramsay pulled you into his lap. His hands were so strong when he gripped you. “What happened this time?”

“My ex called me,” you confessed.

“Ah, missionary guy,” Ramsay smirked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, gently prodding his member. “He said that he misses me.”

“And do you?”

“Maybe. I’m lonely,” your eyes turned to his face. Ramsay carefully studied you. His cold eyes on you made you flush even more. His fingers traced your lips and went inside your mouth.

“Well, I guess I should do the neighborly thing then, hm?” His cheeky smile returned. You started to lick and suck his fingers as he fed them to you. “I should remind you that you don’t need missionary guy. You have me, remember?” You started giggling. Oh yes. It was on.

Ramsay pushed you down into the couch as he showered kisses throughout your neck and chest. He bit you only slightly, but bit you harder when you responded to his touch. Your hand brushed by his member again. He was already hard. Ramsay shifted you completely under him, towering over your body on the couch. His breathing hitched when you started to tug his member.

Ramsay’s forehead touched yours and you both met eyes.

“Are you going to always crawl back to me when you’re this needy?” he asked you. You gave him a good squeeze. He winced, but laughed. “You’re hungry. Don’t worry. Me too.” Ramsay buried himself in your chest once more. His hands glided up your sides, ultimately reaching your neck. God, you need this dress to come off now.

Ramsay must have thought the same thing as you because his saliva-covered fingers found their way into your panties. He worked them in and out until he felt how terribly wet you were. Your moaning gave your hunger away. Ramsay hiked up your dress and moved your underwear with his fingers.

“You’re not gonna take-take them off?” you asked in-between your hardened breathing.

“No time. I want you now.” Ramsay easily forced himself inside of you, making both sigh in relief. Ramsay started fucking you. He made your bodies go to an increasing rhythm. His hands tangled and pulled your hair. You wondered why you even went out with missionary guy in the first place. Your ex would look at you and do what little he could do and finish. Ramsay pulled the same missionary move while making you feel so goddamn filthy.

“Rams,” you moaned. “Kiss me.” He happily obliged. He rocked his hips back and forth int you while kissing you face slowly. He started with your neck again, working his way onto your jawline. Once he reached your cheek, Ramsay smirked into the kiss. You heard him whisper in your ear.

“You’re such a mess,” he teased. “I’m not even halfway done with you yet and you’re so close. Have so many men failed you?” He pulled you up and undressed you. His wide eyes wandered your form in front of him. His fingers traced your sides as the fabric fell to the ground. You stood in front of him completely naked. His mouth salivated like a dog. For a moment, you wondered if any other man looked at you this way. Ramsay was a hungry hound whose mouth dripped with want in front of you. Another devilish thought came to mind.

“How long have you wanted me?” you asked. Ramsay shook his head as if he left a trance.

“What?”

“You look at me like I’m a steak dinner. How long has it been since any woman has satisfied you?” You pushed Ramsay away from the couch, towards a wall. He leaned against it, studying you. You continued. “As far as I know, I have been the only woman inside your home for months. In fact, you knew I went out tonight. That’s why you left your door unlocked isn’t it? You knew I would walk in drunk and silly.”

Ramsay’s eyes widened at your realization. You wrapped your hands around his neck and pushed him into the wall. You kissed him knowing how badly he wanted you. Your mouth made its way down to his member. You licked and prodded it at first, waiting for him to say something.

“Fucking suck it already.”

“Admit it you left that door unlocked just for me.”

“No. That’s not—ugh,” Ramsay moaned when you took all of him in your mouth and spat him back out again.

“You want me. Admit it. Say it.”

“Fucking bitch,” he muttered. “You’re the one who walked in here and—ughhhh you bitch,” Ramsay’s eyes rolled back as you took him all in with your mouth again. Your hand massaged his balls. You spat him out, knowing you had all the power now.

“Admit it,” you smiled. Ramsay responded by putting you against the wall. Your face and chest smashed against it as he penetrated you from the back. Your hands laid flat against the wall as he thrusted. He pulled your hair once more for good measure, shutting you up completely. You could hear and feel skin against skin as Ramsay increased his pace.

Two fingers circled your clit moving constantly, winding you up like a clock. But alas, Ramsay reached his end before you could reach yours. He suddenly pulled out of you, spilling his seed on your backside. You regained composure soon enough to turn around a face him. His hardened breathing calmed a bit as he studied you.

“Fine,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “I may have overheard you and I may have left the door unlocked. Doesn’t mean I like you. You’re still a stuck up bitch with my cum all over your ass.” You closed the space between both of you and slipped your tongue in his mouth. He kissed you back with the same energy as you did. Before you pulled away, you bit down on his lip.

“Good thing we hate each other, right?” you winked before going to the door.

“Where are you going? You didn’t finish, and I’m not done with you,” Ramsay said more firmly. You looked down at his member and laughed.

“It seems like we’re already done here judging from your parts,” you snickered. “Come find me when you’re drunk and desperate I guess.” You closed his front door behind you. Ramsay was left standing there, mouth agape. How dare you leave him without his approval? How dare you make him feel small? Ramsay looked at the shared wall between his and your apartments.

“Crazy, stuck up bitch,” Ramsay muttered, pulling up his pants. “I guess I have a type now.”

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