I have no idea what I’m begging for as my words push out of me, choked with the overwhelming, contradictory emotions coursing through me.
He stares at me for a long time without moving. Then his hand slowly leaves my hair to remove his mask. His eyes glue themselves to mine, and I nearly lose my breath at seeing him so close to me. We’re inches apart, and holy hell is he handsome. Even in the darkness of the moonless night, and the fuzziness that surrounds me from not wearing my glasses, I can make out his tan skin, his piercing blue eyes, his long straight nose and high cheekbones. The lips underneath with just enough fat in them to make me want to…
No. No, no, no, no, no.
“You’re cross-eyed,” he says suddenly.
“Huh?”
“Your left eye. It’s cross-eyed.”
Yeah, well, strabismus. He’s holding me inches over the water, I’m soaked through, shivering and cold, and he’s really asking me about my eyesight?
“It’s kind of blue,” he adds.
I grit my teeth, wondering if the asshole is on drugs right now. What the hell is he doing?
“Heterochromia,” I spit out. “My eyes are all kinds of messed up. Are you going to let go of me now?”
His hand clutching the front of my shirt and the other one that’s back in my hair tell me he very much is not.
“It’s cute,” he says abruptly, and I stare up at him in confusion.
Confusion turns to utter shock as he suddenly lifts me to him and… kisses me.
“What the h–” I begin, but his arms encircle me as his mouth deepens the kiss, and the rest of my sentence is lost.
Out of all the scenarios I’ve been desperately running in my mind for the past few minutes, this one never entered my skull.
Quill Nelson is kissing me.
His hand in my hair strokes it roughly, more as though he’s trying to get a sense of the weird curly texture than actually caressing me, while his tongue darts out of his mouth and presses against my lips. I let it in without thinking and it explores every single one of my teeth, hooking itself around my tongue, as his mouth devours me.
It’s a weird combination of hunger and curiosity that… awakens something in me.
Something in my core that clenches and writhes with need, and I don’t know if I want to cry or melt into him.
I settle on both as he continues to kiss me viciously, his hands clawing at my back, touching every inch of my skin as if he can’t get enough of me.
Then my tears wet his cheek, and though I wish I could pretend it’s just the water of the lake, I know he can tell. He draws back suddenly, staring at me.
“Please,” I sob, the words pouring out of my mouth, my mind helpless to stop them, “please, keep going. Keep going.”
He stares at me for a beat longer before hooking an arm under my legs. He lifts me out of the water and carries me to the area that surrounds it, and lies me down on the grass with more tenderness than I could have imagined possible from him.
“Are you cold?” he asks, feeling me shiver beneath him.
You dunked me in the freezing water for minutes on end. What do you think, asshole? Yes, I’m freaking cold.
But all I can do is shake my head and cry, big gulpingsobs wracking my entire body, desperately wishing they’d stop because I know they’ll scare him away and he’ll leave.
In the span of thirty minutes, my bully’s tortured me worse than he ever had before, before reigniting my childhood dreams.
I feel like I’m going crazy.
He doesn’t leave though. He sits down on the grass beside me, takes off his thick, fleece-lined hoodie, and draws me onto his lap. Then he wraps his hoodie around me. I can barely breathe as I feel my head against his warm chest, feel the beat of his heart beneath my cheek, his spiciness in my nose. His arm begins to trace soothing circles on my back and in my hair, and the tenderness of his touch feels like it’s going to break me. It’s too much. After everything he’s put me through, it’s too much.
There’s no doubt about it. I really am going mad.
