Chapter5
Ava
I couldn't shake off the feeling that Kyle's overprotectiveness was suffocating me. That's why I agreed to meet Blake in secret, away from prying eyes.
We chose a quiet park on the outskirts of town, where the only witnesses were the trees and the wind. Blake brought his motorcycle, and I couldn't help but feel a thrill as I climbed onto the backseat.
As we rode through the streets, the wind whipping my hair, I felt alive. Free.
We stopped at a small café, where Blake told me stories about his childhood, his passion for fighting, and his dreams. I listened, entranced, feeling like I was unraveling the layers of a mysterious puzzle.
In turn, I shared my own secrets, my fears, and my aspirations. Blake listened intently, his eyes locked on mine, making me feel seen and heard.
With each meetup, our connection deepened. We laughed, argued, and explored the city together. I felt like I'd found a kindred spirit, someone who understood me in ways Kyle never could.
But with every secret meetup, the weight of deception grew heavier. I knew Kyle would never approve, and the guilt gnawed at me like a slow-burning fire.
One night, as we sat on a rooftop, watching the stars, Blake turned to me and asked, "Ava, are you ready to take a chance on me? On us?"
My heart skipped a beat. I knew the risks, but I couldn't deny the spark between us.
"Yes," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the wind.
Blake's smile lit up the night, and he pulled me into a kiss that left me breathless.
One evening, Blake took me to a vintage arcade, filled with retro games and a photobooth in the corner. We spent hours laughing and competing in high-score challenges.
As we waited in line for the photobooth, Blake fidgeted with my scrunchie, playing with the soft fabric. I teased him, "Hey, focus! We need to take the perfect photo!"
He grinned mischievously and pulled me into the booth. As the camera counted down, he wrapped the scrunchie around my wrist, tying us together.
The first photo captured our silly faces, with the scrunchie binding us like a makeshift handcuff. We burst into laughter.
The next photo showed Blake making a goofy expression, with me trying to escape the scrunchie's "restraints." The third photo was a sweet moment, with Blake's arm around me, the scrunchie still tied to my wrist.
As we left the booth, Blake kept the scrunchie on, his hand brushing against mine. "I like this," he said, his voice low and gentle. "It's like we're connected, even when we're not."
I smiled, feeling my heart flutter. "I like it too."
We walked out of the arcade, hand in hand, the scrunchie a symbol of our playful, blossoming love.
YOU ARE READING
Kyle's Omerta
Short Story"A whispered promise of loyalty, a warning to enemies, and a curse to those who broke it - Kyle's Omertà was a mysterious and deadly oath that would haunt him forever."
