She's so fucking beautiful it hurts.
I've been stealing glances of her from across the football field while trying to make it discreet that I'm actually only here at her cheer practice to get my daily dose of her presence.
I notice everything.
The way her dirty blonde hair dances in the sunlight, falling in soft waves around her face, completed with a bow at the back. The way her sparkling green eyes light up every so often while scanning over the pages of the book she was reading before practice.
Last but not least, her smile. Her real smile, not the one she uses when she's nervous.
It literally lights up the world.
Well, my world.
But then there's also the way she clearly tries to hide her body and the new curves she's picked up over the last month. The way she looks down when her friend beside her has a facial expression other than contentment.
Why doesn't she understand that she's perfect?
We've barely spoken two words to each other, and I'm already going crazy. This is against my natural instinct. Against the way things have been my entire life.
Every fleeting moment spent watching her is like a stolen treasure, feeding my fantasies of a life where I lock her to me and never let her go.
I put up a fight within myself to just leave her be, but ultimately my feelings win. every. time. She consumes my mind too much for me to walk away now. I'm usually not a feelings guy like this. You can't be with the job I have.
I can't blame my feelings though — I've been looking for a new obsession for the past year or so when my old one, murder, started to bore me. Seeing blood gurgling from someone as they take their last breath just doesn't excite me anymore like it used to. When you witness it so many times it becomes just like any other chore, as simple as making your bed in the morning.
See, I'm the type of person who can't function without hyper-focusing on one thing until I get bored and eventually drop it. It doesn't really matter what it is. A certain fast food menu item, a hobby that I randomly pick up.
Except that thing has never been a person before. And that scares the ever-loving shit out of me.
Before my sophomore year tattoos were my fixation. I'm so glad I dropped that one before I went too far. I've heard so many stories of people who get too many and regret it, their body looking like they single-handedly keep their tattoo artist in business. But I stopped at 20 pieces of ink, most of them wrapping around my arms, chest, back, and right hand.
Then there's also a blackout line tattoo about an inch thick that circles around my left thigh. I've been told it looks like a garter for men.
She looks away from me, but I can tell she still is aware of my piercing eyes fixated on her. I can tell because she fumbles with the short ass cheer skirt to hide herself from my gaze.
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Heathens (Dark Romance)
RomanceNOT FULL BOOK Amelia stumbles upon a crime syndicate on campus when she catches the eye of a member apart of the group. He is powerful, dominant, and controlling. Aiden (who goes by Blade) is in line to be the next president of the Heathens. He's gi...