Crashing Down Into Flames

Chapter 14

Chapter Song: DYWTYLM- Sleep Token

Monday- Afternoon

-Evangeline-
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I let my warm breath escape from my lips and touch his earlobe before moving backward. My eyes dart towards his messy hair lined where my fingers once used to be, "Your hair's messed up, too."

I let go of my grip on his suit jacket and run my fingers through his pitch-black hair, pushing it back.

Its soft texture mixed with the moistness from his sweat makes my fingers easily glaze through it like it was perfectly designed just for my fingers. I keep running my fingers lightly through it, combing it. I know the design of his hairstyle from the back of my hand. I've watched him countless times comb it in the mornings, and have counted the length of his forehead to match his perfect side part while lying in bed.

A low growl rumbles from his chest while I push back his pitch-black hair and it gets caught in my fingers, "Sorry," I whisper through squished cheeks.

"Never be sorry, Little Flames," He replies to my whisper that I didn't know he heard.

He lets his fingers go off my cheeks and wraps his arms around my waist, bringing me closer to him. I bubble my cheeks, feeling the squished tension go back to normal. A quiet, deep chuckle comes from him, "You can pull my hair anytime."

I roll my eyes and move my hands from his hair. I grab one of his hands from my waist, mainly to remove it, but to also put it through his hair. I put my palm on the back of his hand, and thread my fingers through his. He watches my every movement of threading our fingers until I take his hand out of view and push it through his hair, directing it, "It won't- It won't look-look out of place while-" I stop before I trail off and say jibberish.

His smile rises, making butterflies attack my stomach in a vile way, "Go on. Continue," He says as if I didn't sound like a dumbass.

"It won't look out of place," I whisper with redding cheeks and without the confidence I had, "While outside."

"Where'd that confidence go, Little Flames?" His voice deepens to a level that makes my knees weak when he says Little Flames. Sweet biscuits, I never knew a nickname could be dipped in desire and pulled out to be sprinkled in lust.

I pull my hand out of his hair. He turns my hand around so my hand is in his palm and squeezes. His face moves closer to mine with his breath fanning my hair, "Do I make you nervous?" He whispers with an unholy deep voice that makes me salivate the butterflies in my stomach to my mouth.

I swallow the butterflies back down and clear my throat. My heart can't take this rhythm of beating anymore, so I take a deep, shaky breath while still feeling his heat on my neck, "Nope," I say, popping the "p."

This challenge is going to be harder than I thought.

I turn around in his grip, my cheek brushing against his, the skin-to-skin contact making my muddled headache worse.

The wave of emotion hits me when I stare at him through the reflection of the shiny silver elevator doors, "Did you ever love me?" I whisper without showing the hurt in my voice.

He keeps his arm on my wrist and keeps his head leveled on my shoulder as he stays silent. His reassuring silence tells me everything I need to know. That this is just a game for him. Nothing else...

I let out a deep sigh, moving my eyes from the reflection and pushing his arm away, "That's all I needed to know," I mumble as I move my very sore legs away to pick up my notebook that got thrown sometime when we... when we made a mistake.