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---Ch.4 Romeo's Visit----

You aren't one for homicide, but Jake English may become the exception. This has been the longest week of your life, and he is the one to blame. You have not been able to find peace anywhere but the comfort of your home, and even then he keeps messaging you on pesterchum.

At school, Jake escorts you everywhere. He teases you, and invades your personal space. His flirting is endless. He gets into fights all the time at lunch, and everyone in the school is talking about you.

You didn't notice at first, people were quieter. After the first couple of days though, people started talking a little more loudly behind your back. Some of the things being said really piss you off, and you knew it would happen. Avoiding Jake has kept you in the shadows, but he put a spotlight on you that could outdo the sun.

Trying to push Jake from your mind, you grab a book from your bedroom bookshelf. The door is closed, and your parents aren't home anyways. Your computer is safely shut off, and Jake hasn't figured out your cell phone number yet.

Smiling, you plop into your papasan chair and open the book. The clean and almost earthy smell of book wafts through your senses. Your muscles instantly relax, and you feel at peace for the first time since getting kissed by Jake.

You manage to get a few pages in when a strange noise interrupts you. You accuse the house at first and attempt to continue reading. The noise then becomes louder and more prominent.

Setting down the book, you listen more closely. It's a weird plinking sound, like something tapping glass. You haul yourself from your comfy chair and stand in the middle of your room.

The sound strikes again and you recognize the origin to be your window. You stare at your bedroom window for a moment, then warily make your way over. Glancing down into your yard, you jump slightly. Your eyes widen fiercely and your jaw drops in a comical fashion. You have a visitor, and you should have expected it.

Jake English stands in the middle of your backyard. There's a pile of small pebbles resting in his open palm, but they drop when he sees you've noticed him. He lifts the hand to wave at you with a sly smirk on his face. How did he find out where you live?

Slowly, you back away from the window. Running a frustrated hand through your (h/l) (h/c) locks, you start to pace the length of your room. Crazy situations call for drastic measures, but what kind of drastic measures? You can't just tell Jake to go away, you've tried that about a million times already.

A spark suddenly comes to your (e/c) eyes. You grin and fist pump the air for giggles. Your bedroom is on the second story, and the rain gutter is to far away for climbing. He'd have to be spider man or something.

Your tiny parade is ruined when you hear a knock on your window. Freezing, you feel your chest clench up. With slow steps, you turn around, and gasp. You jump about a mile into the air when you see that Jake is holding onto your window ledge.

Once Jake has your attention, he points to your window. It's at this point that you remember it's locked. Do you dare open it?

Your options include leaving him out there to somehow hurt himself. He could probably sue you for that, but he'd maybe learn a lesson about being a hooligan. You could also let him in and then tie him up and put him in your closet. Not really though. Goodness, you don't even think you'd be able to overpower him. He just scaled the side of your fucking house like some kind of superhero!

Taking a breath to calm down, you face Jake and shake your head to say no. He frowns at you from outside, and points to the window again.

Ignoring the boy, you turn your back. You make your way towards your bedroom door. You can wait him out in your living room. He'll leave eventually.

"click" "k-chak" "swish"

You whip around just to meet a somewhat angry Jake climbing through your now open window. You stare at the spot, dumbfounded. You find yourself sputtering nonsensical phrases, and only stop when Jake starts marching over to you, a devious smirk on his face.

"Why the fuck didn't you open the window?"

You glare at Jake and then at the ID card in his hand. He picked the lock. That little delinquent!

"You just broke into my bedroom!" You exclaim in rage.

Jake stares at your angry and shocked face, then starts chuckling. The expressions on your face are absolutely priceless. They're one of the things that interests him about you.

"Wouldn't have had to if you'd just open the window." Jake retorts.

He stands up straight and crosses his muscled arms. His height towers over you as he goes for a slightly intimidating look. His black wife beater shows off the definition, and you can see his legendary double pistols peeking from beneath the shirt. You can't help but stare. Everyone knows about them.

Jake notices your stare and he steps closer to you. You jump from your trance and stare up at him.

"Enjoying the view?"

You turn away from him and march across your room. You are not letting him get close. Jake rolls his eyes and starts to wander around your room. His jade green eyes hover over every surface as he looks at your stuff. It makes you nervous.

He leans over your bookshelf to examine your collections. His finger touches the spines of novels and you frown.

"Don't touch my books. What are you even doing?" You demand.

English faces you for a moment before he then moves onto the lower shelves where you keep your movies and television series box sets.

"Looking at the kind of things you have." Jake states matter of factly.

"Why?" You stomp your foot to try and bring his attention away from your things. He just continues staring.

"Devilfucking dickens, (y/n)! No need to get all discombobulated. I just want to know what kind of things you're into."

You stare at Jake's turned back for a moment. You find yourself surprised, and a blank look comes over your face. He wants to know about you? Why would he bother with such a thing? Isn't he just trying to get in your pants?

"Why are you here, English?" You question as you cross your arms.

Jake turns to face you with an almost evil grin.

"Fucking shucks buster! I almost forgot about that, babe."

"Don't call me 'babe.'" You snarl.

Jake strides over to you, and you back away in response. Amusement lines his features with your every step. Alas, your room is not endless, and you hit the wall. Jake stands over you, one hand braced against the wall by your head, and the other held in front of you. You stare at the offered appendage, and frown. You aren't taking it.

"Right o, your phone, babe." The pet name is purred in a teasing manner.

You feel your face begin to heat up, and you try to convince yourself it's anger. The awkward feeling overcoming you is proving otherwise. Your hand unconsciously touches your sweatshirt pocket where your phone currently rests.

You quickly shove your hand back to your side and stand up straight. You will not back down here. There is no way he is going to get your phone number. He already messages you endlessly and stays at your side every moment at school. You refuse to accept calls and texts from this jerk too.

"There is no way in hell I'm going to give you my phone." You state.

Jake laughs loudly before he leans closer to your face. He's mere inches away, and you can feel his breath as it brushes your lips. You purse yours shut and narrow your eyes at him defiantly.

"You can give it to me, or I can take it. I only want to give you my number. I won't even take yours. Gentleman's promise."

He's surely lying! Anyways, what's to stop you from deleting the number once he's gone. You refuse to hand it over.

Bracing yourself, you smile at Jake. Without warning, you make a dash to the side. You just dash past Jake when his arms catch you around the waist. You let out a yelp, and try to elbow him in the chest. There's no effect.

You freeze when you feel his hand roam into your pocket. He saw your earlier reaction.

Jake continues to trap you in his strong arms, his chin resting on your shoulder. He holds the phone out in front of you two, and activates it. He goes into your contacts and starts typing in his information.

The whole time, you can feel his warmth against you. He's way too close for your comfort, and he knows it! His smirk only seems to grow as you cease struggling.

Without a word, he places the phone back into your pocket. His warmth disappears, and you watch as he retreats to the window. He climbs over the sill, but before he descends he smiles at you.

"Call me sometime." He calls before he fades from sight.

You stand silently in the middle of your bedroom. Your face is red and heated. You pull your phone out with shaky hands, and dig for your contacts. You find the newest edition and stare at it.

The anger in you starts to bubble the longer you stare. You press the options button and the delete. A confirmation pops up. You glare at the screen.

Huffing angrily, you march to the window and slam it shut. Turning back to your phone, you cancel the deletion and throw your phone onto your bed.

"Fuck him! God damn that stupid prick!" You shout.