Five years have passed. Theresa Young has learnt that perfection is a lie. And she has had her share of truths--- but when Hardin Scott walks back into her stabilizing life, who's gonna tell her that truths hadn't left her trail in the first place.
...
"Don't blame me, love made me crazy If it doesn't, you ain't doing it right."
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Theresa Young _________________________________
I plant my palms over his, pressing deeper against the fabric at my waist and my hair slaps against my face as I throw my head to the right with an overjoyed grin.
The alcohol begins to seep in, I can tell--- and I let the music drive my body.
Passion crawls up my veins, in pace with his fingers gliding over my hip. Hardin's face blooms behind my closed eyes, the vision fueling my unreleased sexual angst.
So when he has been way too busy with some other girl for the last thirty minutes now, I take to the dance floor and let my hair down with the first random guy who offered.
The heat of a few seconds that Hardin's scorching stare ignited pulses inside me, the frustrating vague memory of it building up inside me.
I groove, my back against a chest in an inebriated high, seeing the black fumes in the brown of his eyes and the feel of his lips when he kissed me on my birthday.
And when he pressed me against the door----
And when he threw me into the pool at his apartment----
And when he played basketball in the rain----
And when he worked out alongside Ashe----
I feel my hands rise up, touching my waist, my chest and my hair on the way, till they're up in the air, dancing.
Taylor Swift sang from the speakers and I let her mould my incoherent thoughts.
