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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Nepenthe (n.) something that can make you forget grief or suffering
Thirty-nine ♡︎♡︎♡︎ Arabella
"Hi."
Squealing a little as I jump, holding one hand to my heart I use the other to tug down the ends of Flints shirt.
Suddenly feeling very exposed in front of this man I've never meet before.
"Hi." I whisper back, uncomfortable with the ways he's staring at me. I take a quick glance at the stairs, wondering if I should just make a run for it.
The guy laughs, like he can read my mind, knows my thought process and how futile of an attempt it would be.
I can hardly walk up stairs without feeling out of breath, never mind run up them.
"Who are you?" The guy questions, holding his mug to his lips, raising a questioning brow.
"Arabella." I whisper, not sure on how exactly to reply. "Flints-"
"Flints girlfriend." The guy cuts me off with a nod, his eyes travelling over me. Slow and intentional. Taking in every last detail. Lingering longer than he should on my exposed legs, wondering to my naked collar bones and the marks Flint left there, his shirt doing little to cover anything as it hangs off my shoulders.
"You're pretty." He tells me.
My insides swivel up, stomach turning to stone and falling to my feet, weighing me down.
I've been told I'm pretty before. Flint tells me all the time. Most of the time I don't necessarily believe him. But this is different.
When Flint tells me I'm pretty, it's because he means it. And genuinely finds me pretty. It's innocent and sweet and means nothing more than what he says.
He's telling me I'm pretty because he finds me pretty. There's nothing else to it.
When this guy says it, it feels different. Like he's not doing it to compliment me but to let me know he thinks I'm worth something because I'm pretty. I don't know if that makes sense. But I get the inexplicable feeling that with him beauty is equivalent to worth. Like I should feel flattered he finds me pretty because that's all I have to offer.
I nod awkwardly, shuffle on my feet, forget all about the glass of water I came down for. My insides relax, stomach settling when Navy walks into the room.
