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“If you weren’t so unbearable, I’d make you look freshly kissed,” he whispers.
“He didn’t deserve it.” My shoulders tense. “The date?” “That dress.” I hate that his words hold the power to light little candles of confidence in the back of my mind. “Don’t say things like that.” “You look beautiful.” He says it so simply, like it’s not an opinion but a fact; not up for debate.
He takes a step forward. “Don’t make me chase you.” I take a step back. “I have stamina.” “I’d rather find that out a different way.”
Ophelia feels like finding another human after months in the desert. A light permeating the thick black cloud. When my wayward mind wanders, it staggers back home to her.
Someone making you happy is one thing, but seeing the demons in someone’s eyes go quiet when they look at you? It’s something else entirely.
