Renna Rose Lancaster is the girl people stare at like she belongs in a glass case, carved with angel-soft beauty, a life airbrushed into unattainable perfection. But Renna knows perfection is nothing but a golden prison, coated in pretty lies that k...
I cannot paint you pictures because the beautiful things in my head cannot be translated;
nor can I sing to you, as my voice has an uncanny habit of falling flat;
nor can I play for you as my fingers fumble when my thoughts cross over to how you look, watching me;
but I can brush the knots out of your hair, and work the knots out of your back when your day has become too much to bear;
I am not good at much, but i will be good to you."
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I sat on the fallen trunk like it had been placed there just for me, the whole thing leaning sideways over a patch of moss that glittered from last night’s rain. Roots jutted up like crooked fingers, grabbing at nothing, judging everything. The forest sounded too alive for this morning. Birds arguing like someone owed them money. Branches creaking even though there was barely a breeze. Leaves shifting in a way that made me feel watched from every direction.
Every time something thudded to the ground, I jumped. And every time, I pretended I didn’t.
Aadam stood between my legs, tall and moody, pretending he wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be planted. His jacket sleeves were shoved up, his forearms dusted in scratches from dragging wood earlier, and his fingers were stained this deep violent purple from the berries he’d been feeding me.
“Spoilt brat,” he muttered under his breath, dropping another berry between my lips. “Who the fuck hates seeds. They’re literally microscopic.”
I chewed like the princess I absolutely was. He pretended he didn’t care, but the way his eyes dropped to my mouth every single time was ridiculous.
He genuinely thinks no one can see him staring. He’s literally been staring since the moment I stepped out of the cabin. If there was an award for Pretending Not To drool While Very Obviously drooling, he’d sweep.
While he fussed with berries, I held out a flapjack towards him with my free hand. He snatched entire pieces without hesitation, chewing like he was trying to fight the food into submission. Four packets were gone already. I opened the fifth one, ripped the plastic, and held a chunk near his face.
