August & Colin | WRU series | book 1
We take risks. We make mistakes. We lie. We love. We hurt. We lose total control.
I took a risk. I paid the price.
I made a mistake. I felt the guilt.
I lied. I lie.
I loved. I try not to.
I hurt. I still do.
...
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Three years ago
I want to tell her I admire her ambition and her drive to reach for something she believes to be unattainable. I want to tell her that, when she talks about science, her eyes light up like the night sky at twelve o'clock on January the first. I want to tell her I'm dying to uncover every hidden thought running in her head.
"There's something in your hair," I hoarsely mumble my desperate excuse to hide how I was unapologetically adoring her.
"Oh." She turns her head trying to locate whatever I proclaimed to have noticed.
"Here, let me get it." My fingers lightly brush through her thick, long locks, pretending to remove something that wasn't even there in the first place. Her big round eyes linger on mine and the gesture suddenly feels a lot more intimate than I intended it to be. I was trying to crawl out of the hole I was falling into, not let go to see how long it would take me to hit rock bottom.
Yet I can't stop my hand from slowly following her wavy hair downwards until it reaches the crook of her neck. My fingers are tangled up inside her locks and her irises are locked on mine as my thumb grazes the skin at the end of her jawline. Her eyelids blink heavily with every circle I draw and the nerves inside my finger top tingle by the touch.
Fucking hell, I want to kiss her.
She sharply inhales, drops her head, and leans back making me snatch my hand away from her. She clears her throat before she whispers, "Thanks."
"Yeah, no problem." I scratch the back of my neck as I turn my gaze away from her.
Well, fuck.
A few moments of silence pass and every second of it is filled with me cursing myself for creating this awkward moment.
There's something in your hair? Really? Are you really fucking kidding me?
Right when I want to apologize for my actions, her small voice speaks up. "Tell me something I don't know." I stare up at the night sky, slightly grinning as I try to focus on finding a response to her request instead of overthinking the fact she's still sitting next to me trying to continue our conversation.
"Did you know Cleopatra wasn't Egyptian?" I turn my gaze back to her, only to meet a surprised expression.
"She wasn't?" She asks for clarification as she quirks up one eyebrow.
I shake my head. "She was born in Egypt, but ethnically she was Greek. Her family origins in Macedonian Greece, when Alexander the Great was ruling." Egypt along with the Roman Empire piqued my interest the moment I came in touch with their history. The culture, the lifestyle, and all the stories, they've always captured me. I've let myself drown so deep in that world it doesn't surprise me that the facts effortlessly roll off my tongue, even if it's been a while since I've read about Cleopatra.
