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And I feel like a moron for smelling him, because he’s definitely not smelling me,
why are we sniffing people.....???😰
“Which means right now, my body is being held together by obscure facts about the French Revolution. I don’t care how hot you are, if you don’t get out of that room in the next ten seconds, I will grab you by that tank top you think makes you look effortlessly relaxed but really makes you look like you’re trying too hard and go full Robespierre on your ass.” The guy peels back from me with a tawdry grin. Then I hear what I said. Ohhhhhh for fuck’s sake. “Hot, eh?” His eyes trail over me so very, very slowly, but his conceited smirk is an equalizer to any reaction that tries to prickle along my
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I'm getting second hand embarrassment oml nooo that's not what he ment😭😭😭😭
There’s a moment. Where I’m staring at the door. And I think to myself, This is my rock bottom. But I might as well find out what the full depth of my rock bottom looks like. Maybe there’s something interesting down here, like my dignity.
Damn that's crazy...
“You tinsel-bombed the St. Patrick’s Day Prince,” he says. “I have never been more proud of you in my life.”
I'm also very proud 🥹
What could go wrong.
literally everything but yk I may be wrong...(though I'm usually not)
Oh shit, I should’ve worn a terrible sweater with tinsel on it—god, missed opportunity, massively.
I like the way you think bookie!
What are the odds he’s forgotten I called him hot?
very low...
growls for only me to hear, “You’re lucky I do na make you get down on your knees and beg. Though you did call me hot, so would you enjoy that, hm?”
WOAH THAT TOOK A TURN HUSH
“Was that the apology you had in mind?” I whisper up at him. “Or should I go on about how all the rainbows in Ireland point to the pot of gold in your asshole?”
that's actually crazy 😭
First boyo. Now bitch.
Him and his motherfucking accent,
“Fuck me,” I groan to my plate. Loch doesn’t hesitate. “Only if you say please.”
WHAT
“You’re denying me caffeine,” I state, to be sure I’m understanding what will be put on the police report as my motive.
lmaooo that's so real
I don’t miss a beat. “Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He doesn’t either. “Do you still think I’m hot?” That shuts me up. Briefly. “Do you want me to, if I was flirting with your sister?”
y'all don't miss a beat do y'all
“I’m Irish, boyo. Talking shite is how we flirt.”
is bro saying he's been flirting this whole time...
I hear his voice, the memory of it. Echoing. Echoing. I’m Irish, boyo. Talking shite is how we flirt. Holy. Fuck. Has he been flirting with me this whole time? And. Oh my god. Have I been flirting back? No. No way. Flirting is telling someone they look nice, or smiling at each other across a room, or anything that leaves a fuzzy feeling in my chest, not— Not heat so intense I don’t think there’s a part of me that isn’t blistered anymore. Not tension so potent it creates its own gravitational pull. That’s not—that isn’t— Oh my god. THAT’S WHAT THAT IS?!
bookie you didn't notice!?😭 man you don't listen hun
I know that his kiss tasted like all the dreams I waxed on about in the writing I don’t do anymore, the words I wove while trying to imagine Iris but all I imagined was a fantasy, an ending. He tasted like those fantasies. He felt like those endings. It’s him.
I’m just, like, conserving battery life or some shit.
yeahhh sureee😉
And the words I’ll Lick It For You.
O H!?
“I haven’t seen you use a brush,” I note. “You know how to use your fingers, though.” I hear what I say as I say it.
babes...no I'm mortified oml lmaooo
“Nah. You don’t know how to use your fingers.”
oml shit upppp we didn't mean itttt
And I so badly want to say you have no idea what my fingers can do.
🤨say it
I wrote so many things about him in that notebook upstairs. I wrote and wrote and I could recite it to him now. Would it help? Would it change how he sees us?
bro sounds like me when I like someone
“It wasn’t a mistake. When we kissed. I couldn’t say that because of how much it meant to me, which is dumb, I know. I should be able to tell you. But I’m terrified of you. I’m terrified that you see the same broken shit in me that’s made other people leave because I’m a fucked-up mess and what do I have to offer you? God, Loch. Look at what you’re doing. Look at who you are.”
spoken like a true poet pookie, just like me fr
“You aren’t an awakening,” I whisper. “You’re the whole dawn. And I can’t believe I ever thought I’d seen the sun before you.”
AHHH MY HEART
“You’re a goddamn poet,”
that's what I said!!
“I don’t want a fantasy. I don’t want sweetness. For once in my life, I want to be ruined.”
ahhhhhgungtjj DAMN RIGHT BOOKIE
“What do you want me to do to you?”
oml don't ask thattt now we're nervous 😭
“I—I don’t know—”
idk either bookie don't worry😭😭😭
“Show me,” he whispers. “Your writing.” “Oh, yeah, sure.” I snort. “You want to read my rambling, stream of consciousness nonsense after not having written in literal years?” “Yes.” His eyes sparkle and he gestures around the studio. “You’ve seen my soul, in all its unformed pieces. I wanna see yours, boyo.”
the way my heart leaped oml I love thisssss
My lips part. “I—” He grabs the collar of my jacket and kisses me.
damn not even a hi or hello?? LMFAO
“I nearly took you in that ballroom, Kris. I’ve missed you so much, and I need to make you come.” “Okay,” is all I can get myself to say,
just "okay"??? um guys this isn't..I mean can't we talk first...like is this just how to greet people?????
