Josie Guerrero is focused on one thing: getting accepted into the prestigious art studies program within the Art School at the University of Southern Washington. With thirteen weeks to create her sophomore portfolio, she knows she can't afford any d...
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She's everywhere.
In the rain-slick roads weaving through Crest Hill. In the diamond-flecked rain catching against the street lights like flashes of golden lightning. In the pull of the mid-autumn wind, the mosaic of red leaves falling from near-barren trees, and the sound of rain pelting down around me as I sprint across the cratered street toward The Graveyard.
Her touch is so permanent that I can feel her like a tattoo on my skin — the soft warmth of her hand in mine, the curious tips of her fingers exploring the ink trailing up my arms. It spreads through me like a match catching kindling, and before I can temper it, my entire body is lighting up with the memory of her.
Flushed cheeks, strawberry-tinted moans, and delicate fingers clinging to my arms, my blood thrums hotter at the memory; at the reminder of how she looked underneath me as I fucked her slowly, struck with wonder as I watched the moonlight caressing her skin as if even the moon itself was taking its time worshipping her body.
I can still see her so clearly, looking up at me with satiated eyes and slightly swollen lips. With that flash of mischief that tugged at her lips as she moved her hips the way I taught her, at the clipped breath that caught in her throat as I found the angle she was searching for and gave her exactly what she wanted. At the way she brought her lips to mine and whispered my name as she came. At the way that gentle whisper sent a tidal wave of goosebumps down my back and brought me the kind of climax I've never experienced before. At the way I sat up long after she fell asleep in my arms and watched the moonlight halo around her, wondering how the fuck I went so long without this girl in my life. Wondering how to keep her with me.
I stayed up until dawn drafting up dumbass speeches in my head, wondering what combination of words could possibly be worthy of asking this girl to be mine. To let her know that I want to keep her here with me. Today, tomorrow, and every day after. Until the day the sky really does set itself on fire — until the world burns down around us.
The warmth of her body in my arms pulls away with the icy wind, and as I jog up the stairs of the old decrepit gym, I'm left with the sobering realization that that memory might be the last I ever have of her.
I try to shove it down as I walk through the crowded lobby and straight into the gym, detached from the rush of whispers and screams hitting a fever pitch as the crowd parts for me to get to the ring. The entire crowd is exploding in anticipation, in drunken revelry, and yet, all I can hear is the silence that's been following me around for the past two days.
Two days of silence, a tear-stained note, the ghost of delicate fingers on my skin, and an entire fucking novel worth of words I never said to her. It's all building, weighing down on me until I can't push it down any further. Until I can't ignore it like I usually would. Like I always have.
It's not like that? A humorless laugh slips through my gritted teeth. It's been like that since the moment I saw her. Watermelon underwear and sour candy tongue, she's had me from the start. Since the first fucking moment she stepped into my life. I was just too stubborn to admit it to myself — to realize what I had before she slipped through my fingers.
