I’m done fighting with him.
I’m done arguing over stupid things.
I love him. He’s the boy I’ve loved since I was ten. I don’t wanna fight with him.
I never wanna fight with him.
So this is my peace offering.
I even offer him my outstretched hand. “Will you be my friend, Arrow?”
I know it’s a childish question.
But I don’t know how else to voice it. How else to tell him that this is an important moment in the history of my entire existence.
Asking him to be my friend.
Besides, I think he could use one, a friend.
He could use someone to just… be with. Maybe even to talk with, I don’t know.
He could just use someone.
Although Arrow still hasn’t looked at my hand. He still hasn’t moved his gaze from my face to glance at my offering and I don’t know how to stop the despair that’s spreading through my body. Just when I think my arm won’t stay up and will fall to my side, he takes it.
He takes my offered hand and catches me. This time from my fall into despair. Into sadness and melancholy.
I wouldn’t have believed it, if I wasn’t looking at it, our joined hands, with my own eyes. If I wasn’t feeling the scrape of his large palm against mine.
So this is what he feels like. This is what his skin feels like against mine.
Hot and strong, and sand and velvet at the same time.
Finally.
I smile up at him and find him watching me, watching my smiling, painted lips. He does his lip-lick thing for a second before he squeezes my hand and pulls me forward.
He comes forward too and then he’s hanging over me, his face dark but so beautiful.
“But I’m still taking you back,” he growls.
I flex my fingers against his hand, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m finally touching him and that our fingers are threaded together. “Okay.”
His grip increases even more. “And I’m keeping my eyes on you until I see you enter your dorm building.”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re going to go into your room, climb into your bed and go to fucking sleep, you understand?”
I jerk out a nod.
“And you’re never wearing a shirt like this. Ever again.”
I bite my lip at the vehemence in his voice and nod again.
He narrows his eyes at my mouth. “Good.”
“Arrow?” I whisper, blinking up at him, holding onto his hand like it’s my lifeline.
