She wasn’t just my first kiss; she was the one who spoiled all the others.
She smiles at something Lola says, small, and private, and it shouldn’t matter.It shouldn’t hit this hard.But it does.Because that smile isn’t for me.It’s soft.Untouched.And the fact that she’s giving it to someone else while pretending I don’t exist makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t recognize.
I act before I think, before I can stop myself.
I cut past her aisle, close enough that she should feel it.
She doesn’t even acknowledge the space I steal as I pass her.
I stop and glance at the jackass slouched in the chair behind her.He’s got his legs stretched out, tapping his pen on the desk as if he didn’t unknowingly sign his own death warrant.
Five fucking seconds.
That’s all I give him.My stare does the talking, the kind that promises violence without a word.
He lasts three.
He mutters something under his breath, scrambles out of the chair, grabs his bag and bails quickly.Smart fucking choice.I drop into the seat he vacated, spreading my legs and twisting my silver ring around my thumb, again and again, needing something to do with my hands.She’s pulled her hair back today, and it annoys me more than it should.I miss the way it curls over her shoulders, soft and loose.I know it’s stupid.It’s borderline unhinged.But all I can think about is burying my hands in it, tangling my fingers until she has to tilt her head back for me.Finding out the sound she makes when I pull.
I lean forward regardless.
“Morning, sweetheart,” I murmur, close enough that my chest brushes the back of her chair, so if I breathe in deep enough, I could work out what conditioner she uses.
She doesn’t reply, and that silence hits harder than her anger ever did.
I know exactly why she’s pissed.What she heard the other night, the laughing, the bet Jace and I never thought would reach her ears.That I would fuck her by the end of the year.Turn the good girl into a prized fuck, to prove a point, as if she was a challenge.A prize.
Now she treats me that way.
It hurts more than I’m happy to admit.
But I notice the way her shoulders stiffen slightly, and there it is.The crack.The proof she’s still listening even when she pretends she isn’t.I grin, because if ignoring me is her weapon, I’ve got no problem playing hardball.
I move my mouth closer to her ear.
“I’d die to get between those thighs,” I say softly.Filthy.“Tell me you haven’t imagined me there, my mouth on you where you pretend you don’t want it.”
Her breath catches.Just once.
Her thighs press together under the desk, muscles tightening, and I feel the shock of it running through me.That’s what I needed.Proof I still affect her.That I’m not invisible.
I smirk and lean back in my seat, letting the chair creak enough to say I’ve finished crowding her space.For now.
My fingers stretch towards my notebook, and I tear out a sheet of paper.
I don’t think.I write.
Messy black ink.Slanted.Rapid.The kind of handwriting that reveals just how wired I am.
You can sit there and pretend you’re not doing dangerous things to me.
I’d ruin that skirt in under a minute if you let me, drag you onto my cock and make you forget why you’re mad.
Tell me your body didn’t give you away long before your mouth ever would.
I fold it once, then flick it forward with just enough force to make it arc over her shoulder and land right on her desk.
It slides to a halt, just inches from her hand.
