Heliophilia
(n.) desire to stay in the sun; love of sunlight
To be loved is to be changed.
Arabella Dawson
Has never had anybody constant in her life. From parents always being away at work to one shitty friend, she doesn't know how to exist when...
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Metanoia (n.) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of living
Twenty ♡︎♡︎♡︎ Arabella
"Do you like?"
I turn my head to face Flint, who's lying on my bed, head tilted at the ceiling, eyes closed, as he listens to the song I'm playing for him.
I wanted to get to know him better, so I asked him what his favourite song is. He said he didn't have one.
Apparently he doesn't listen to music, which I think he's lying about because how does one just not listen to music? Like what else is there to possibly do?
Doing the dishes? Listen to Music. Reading? While listening to music. Taking a walk? Music. Showering? Music.
Life would be boring without music.
So to make Flints life a little less boring I've been showing him my favourite songs.
Both of us lying on my bed, head to the ceiling, as we each share an ear bud.
Flint shrugs, "It's alright."
This guy.
Sitting up, my ear bud falling out, Flint watches me as I move my arms round. Trying and failing to get my point across.
I show him The Smiths and he's say they're alright?
"Bro, you need better taste." I reach an arm out, hit him in the stomach. He doesn't even flinch. "If you think The Smiths are just alright I've lost all hope for you."
Flint blinks up at me, narrows his eyes. "I'm not your bro."
Tilting my head, for no other reason than my personal enjoyment I decide to tease him. "What are you then dude?"
Flint clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes and in a swift movement has me pinned against my mattress as he straddles my hips. "Watch it Arabella."
I can feel the heat emitting from the hand he's placed next to my head to hold himself up. The other rests delicately on the side of my throat, his index and middle finger pressed lightly against my pulse.
My pulse that I'm sure is beating faster than is healthy. My stomach a zoo, butterflies fluttering their wings rapidly, my tongue tied in a knot. And everything feels hot apart from the places his skin is meeting mine.
