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He’s like candy-coated toxin.
“I told you, I have many talents. Sniffing out crazy is one of them.”
“I think I have some good inches left in me, but thanks for the tip. Might come in handy in a few years when I start measuring my dick.”
“Yeah.” His words drag in a lazy manner. “I was. In fact, I can’t stop watching you.”
“The day we met you watched the moon While I watched you.
I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life.
“Who’s Caleb?”
“Did he do something to you?”
It’s such a sweet delusion.
“You want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.”
Should I want to look away from his beautiful eyes now that he knows I’m a crazy stalker who comes on people’s legs?
Out of habit, I expect cold to rush in any minute, but I know it won’t. Thomas is close; the sun follows him wherever he goes.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Do you…not like it?” “No. I fucking love it.”
“Not the kind who end up together or live happily ever after. We’re not that kind of soul mates. Even I’m not that naïve. What I mean is, we understand each other. We’re similar—well, similar in all the ways that count.”
I can’t let him go though. I can’t be the one to break this connection. And neither can he, apparently. It’s such a soothing delusion that he wants me to breathe in his ears so he knows he isn’t alone.
“Why aren’t you home, Thomas?” “Because it’s not home when she’s not in it,” he admits quietly.
“You know, we should get matching bracelets or something. Soul mates should definitely have a matching something,” I mumble, warm and drowsy. “Okay, but I don’t like purple.” A weak chuckle escapes me and I burrow my nose in my purple blanket. “Don’t worry, it’ll grow on you. I’ll get one for Nicky too.” He grunts, as if he’s falling asleep right along with me.
Because I’m a girl who’s not supposed to be the love of someone’s life, not with my selfishness. I was meant to live in the shadows and secrets. I can be Thomas’ secret, for a little while, at least—until I absorb all of his pain and set him free.
You make me hurt too.”
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He wipes my tears off with his thumbs. “Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you? You don’t want this, Layla. You don’t want me to touch you.”
“You can fall out of love if you’re in love with someone like me.”
“They’ll open their windows, all sleepy and irritated, ready to call the cops on whoever is making all that noise, but then they’ll see you, on your hands and knees, getting fucked, taking my cock and screaming. Your face all scrunched up. Tears streaming down your cheeks…” He pauses, groaning into my neck, getting aroused by his own story. “And they won’t be able to stop themselves. They’ll stroke their cocks to the rhythm of your moans and when you come, they’ll come in their pants. Won’t they, Layla? They’ll see you on the ground, naked and writhing, and they’ll lose it.”
“I made you bleed, so I’m the one who has to clean you up.”
“Then what name would you like me to say?” “Mine. Say my name.”
Thomas caresses my hair, petting me as he takes a deep breath and replies, “What do you want, Jake? I’m a little busy right now.”
“This is what I think about,” he bites. “It doesn’t even matter if you’re around. This. Bursting every door down so I can get to your pussy. All I can think about is fucking you, Layla. All the time. Every time. You’re in my fucking blood, and I’ll tear apart anyone who dares to fucking touch you.”
Thomas was jealous. It did affect him.
We shouldn’t look for love stories where there are none to be found.”
“Except it’s my tattoo and you’re here every night and I play with it with my tongue.” He licked the side of my neck and whispered in my ear, “Until you’re begging me to stop but secretly hoping I don’t. Is that the tattoo you’re talking about?”
“I’m not your boyfriend, Layla. I’m not going to hold your hand or take you to a movie. I’m not going to talk about my feelings with you.” His fingers flex on my jaw. “Tell me you understand this.”
“Why aren’t you in New York?” “Because I have to tell you something.” “Wh-What?” “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
“No, that’s…that’s not right. You’re not beautiful. I think you’re the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I can’t do it anymore,” I blurt out. “I know I promised I wouldn’t regret it but I-I do. I regret all the things we did and the way we did them. It wasn’t right, Thomas. We broke all the rules. I…” A sob wracks my frame. “Shh… Hey, we’re not. We’re not doing it anymore, okay? It’s over.” “Okay.”
Thomas tries to unwind my arms but despite everything, I hold on to him tighter. “Let me go, Layla. I need to go.”
“You bring them back…my words.”
Loving myself means fighting for myself, fighting for my sanity, and I will fucking fight.
“A lover is the one who waits,” he paraphrases. “Then, I’ll wait. Forever.”
bravery is not the absence of fear, but the courage to do something despite it—taking that first step despite the danger of falling, creating a piece of art knowing that people might not appreciate it. Bravery is like falling in love. You don’t know if the person will reciprocate, but still you fall.
