❝ They say, who loves first, falls hardest, but what if this story is she fell first, he fell harder. ❞
Truths hurt, lies are a blasphemy in a relationship. But have you ever felt it? When everything feels like they're infinitely stretching your sou...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I steal fleeting glances at her while she vents about her day.
Her day took a turn for the worst when she got a call this morning. Along with May and Garrett, who had been called as the Council President and Class Representative respectively, she tried her best to persuade Raymond not to impose this weird Non-Fraternizing Rule, but it all fell on deaf ears.
They had a solid plan ready, even that early in the morning. Garrett would only show subtle interest in the topic, while saying one or two things that indirectly opposed the idea, while May would bulldoze through the whole thing, appearing totally opposed to the idea. Arianna had to pretend to be in favor of the Authority, while putting forth problems that could arise while imposing this rule. But it went down the drain even before she could add her first words of the said 'favor'.
Raymond went ahead and threatened her, saying he had already asked her father and that she should just agree with whatever the Authority had planned. Thus, the sour mood. Bast--
"And then I somehow ended up saying your name," she says, her eyes focused on her shoes, sleek, black, with a strap across the top. They looked graceful, like everything else she owned, but I had no idea what they were called.
She kept her gaze fixed on them, and I could tell she was avoiding eye contact on purpose. But what is she talking about again?
"What?" I ask, removing my eyes from her shoes. "You weren't listening to me?" she pins me with one of those icy glares of hers. As if they work on me.
"No, no. Just the last part. What happened after he came to you and asked why you were on the terrace?" I lean back on the bench, my hands clasped between my sprawled thighs.
"I really didn't know what to say," she continues, "The only advantage was that he had only seen me going into the storage. The tinted glasses of the storage also saved some of our asses."
She rolls her eyes and leans back, painted nails playing with the hem of her pleated skirt. Her language is becoming less and less sophisticated. A rebellion, I'm sure, against her father. But with her regal looks, talking to her sometimes feels like her mouth is only moving animatedly, while someone else is speaking the words.
"So I did what I thought would do the least damage. I lied and said I went there to meet you." She narrows her eyes and pushes her tongue against the inside of her cheek.
"You could have taken someone else's name. Why me? You know no one will believe your words as everyone knows I'm still in love with--" my mouth zips, and a heavy cloud looms over our conversation.
