You were the only girl in the Bowers Gang, and it sometimes was a well-known curse, especially when you've got a touchy-feely and kind of groopy sexual pervert with solopistic complex such as Patrick thrown into the mix of hot-headed and arrogant teenagers.

It wasn't by any means ideal, but being in the same group as the most feared dudes in not only the high school halls but also in the whole town —by kids, teens and even adults— clearly had it's advantages, such as people not daring to even look at you in the wrong way.

Patrick was a complete bastard, a sick pervert that liked to take advantage of any hot female —sometimes even hot male— teenager that was unlucky enough to cross his path. And, since you were sharing the same enviropment as him almost the whole day, the guy was completely obsessed with you and your body, at least it distracted him from his ragging pyromaniac attacks.

However, even with his solopistic world-view, Patrick was not inmune to general human weakness. Mentally, probably yeah, but when it came to physical weaknesses he was as vulnerable as anyone.

So, when he caught a very bad case of flu, you were sent onto babysitting dutie.

And that's how you'd ended up there, sitting by the edge of his bed as he laid underneath a mountain of blankets —shivering and sweating at the same time— while he whined after each cough like a bratty spoiled bitch. His clammy hands had long-before made themselves at home underneath your shirt, right under the curve of your breasts because "it was warm there". His black hair was a matted mess —some strands sticking to his sweaty forehead—, his lips parted cuz he couldn't breathe through his mouth, shivering from the fever, as you tried to feed him a spoonfull of warm soup.

"fu—uuck-" he whined loudly, almost in a sobbing way. His hands shivering as he kept them right under your bra's cups. "don' wanna eat- don' wan—naa" he said with a scowl, a frown on his face. He'd been acting like a little bitch all afternoon, being a total brat.