"Kiss me." He picks me up and kisses me again.
His hands on my waist, my hands in his hair and my lips all over him.
I think I don't have a crush anymore.
I think i'm in love.
We break the kiss and he looks at me, "I'm so fucked aren't I my Val?"
︶꒦...
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I've never loved a man before. I liked and respected my dad. I tried to love Mateo, but we weren't a perfect match.
The sky sparkled with glitter as the rain begin to drizzle. Unaware of the time, I enjoyed sitting next to Demi.
He probably hates it because of how muddy his suit must be.
Weakling.
Demetrius, to me, is like the moon.
"What do I remind you of?" I ask as we gaze at the sky.
"The sun," he confidently states. My cheeks flush.
Can he read my mind? Okay, Professor Charles Xavier. Those who know, know.
"The sun is warming and makes everyone feel safe. You do that. Everyone wants to talk to you, and you make everyone, even those who do not deserve it, feel included."
"I wish we had met earlier," I mutter as I slide my body to face him.
I feel like a caterpillar.
The lush grass gently caressed my ankles, swaying in response to the soft breeze. Beside me, a petite pond, adorned with weathered grey bricks, displayed the evidence of time's gentle erosion—broken fragments scattered in a scattered mosaic.
Delicate baby frogs perched on the remnants, adding a touch of life to the quiet tableau. Mirroring the celestial masterpiece above, the diminutive pond held a pristine reflection of the ever-changing canvas painted across the sky.
"I tried to meet you but you were busy doing God knows what while I had meetings with my brother."
"I was watching a highly educational show to inform myself about the outside world: Gossip Girl."
"If it makes you feel better, I only went to his boring meeting to see you," he declares.
"How is that supposed to make me feel better? That just makes me seem evil. I just ignored my number one friend. Don't tell Hanzo that; I think he gets jealous of our friendship." Demetrius softly laughs.
If I could be anyone in the world, it would be Jay-Z. Imagine being in the presence of Beyonce.
"You think it is possible to fall in love with anyone who is a part of the mafia world?" I question. Demi looks back at me, and we are face to face.
Someone should tell him he stinks. He doesn't; I'm lying.
"Aren't your parents known in the underground for being that one couple that never fell out of love and how they were this generation's weird mafia version of Romeo and Juliet?" I laugh at him.
Everyone always presumed so, and I never had the guts to argue otherwise, but for once it was me and Demi—no one to judge, well, except him, but he's cool so he won't.
