The moment we become acquainted with someone we begin to build a personality profile based off of who we think they are. It helps us quickly categorize someone as friend or foe and everything in-between. In theory it seems like a good practice because it is logical. The problem is, the personality profiles assigned to us follow us for as long as the acquaintanceship lasts, and maybe even past them. Who we are now is not who we have been, but who we used to be haunts us with the idea of what was, what could have been, and what may never be.
Sometimes the worst ghosts aren't even our own. Sometimes they're the ones of the people we used to know, the ones who disappeared and then returned. It's hard to trust what you don't know. Time changes everything. Who you are is not who you were a year ago and as time passes you may need to be reintroduced to the ghosts of your past because they're not the same and neither are you.
"You don't know me," she sighs, sitting up to slip a loose tank top over her bare torso. She's fallen into a distasteful pattern. She's let, for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger into her bed as a reoccurring guest.
"I used to," Theo drops his hand the moment the shirt covers her skin, pulling it back to rake through his hair. They used to build blanket forts together when they were younger, piling up pillows on the inside to sit or lie on. Now they crawl into bed and lose their clothes. They're not kids anymore.
"We were ten, Theo. You can't just waltz back into town and act like nothing has changed. Everything has changed and I..." she trails off.
"Don't trust me anymore."
The bed shifts as she turns to look at him, the slight creak of the bed the only noise in the room. The sheets are pulled down, draped around his waist. His blue green eyes look exceptionally bright against his fair skin and his hair messier than usual. The dimly lit room doesn't do much to illuminate either of them, but the silvery glow of the moon makes everything seem more surreal.
Her eyes trail past his face, over his irritated lips, and down his well-defined abdomen. He's such a beautiful boy, every part of him exceptionally inviting. He looks genuine and he talks sweetly, but that means nothing in a town like this. Every time she asks herself why she let him in, and every time the answer is painfully obvious. He's pretty and she's weak.
"I don't know you anymore," she whispers.
"I'm just an old friend," he says softly, watching her carefully.
"Why are you here?" she questions, willing herself not to directly look into his eyes. His eyes always look so irritatingly honest and she knows better than to trust his mouth.
"Same reason you let me in," he explains, "I just want to feel close to somebody."
She scoffs, shaking her head and turning her attention elsewhere.
Something about the way the moonlight filters in through the window is enthralling. She finds herself walking away from Theo to stand in front of the window, pushing the curtains back to be fully immersed in the pale light. The moon always seems less judgmental than the sun. It turns a blind eye to the indiscretions taking place under its inviting haze. It provides a false sense of security that's what happening never has to see the light of day. It promises to keep your secret. But it lies.
"Stiles would be livid if he knew," she muses, staring out into the dark abyss.
"That you're sleeping with the alleged enemy?" Theo props himself up on his elbows, "Yeah, probably."
"He doesn't trust you at all."
There's a pause. And in that pause is a deafening silence. It weighs heavy on her chest, making her anxious of what will follow.
"You wanna know a secret?" he asks, slipping out from under the covers and joining her at the window.
She turns when she feels him standing next to her. He reaches out to push her hair away from her face, fitting her cheeks into his palms. Like a magnetic attraction she feels compelled to lean forward and fit her lips against his. So she does. They fit together effortlessly, like puzzle pieces sliding into place.
Her mind goes fuzzy as his lips move languidly, encouraging hers to follow suit. His hands move from her face to her waist, pushing up the thin fabric of her shirt for his palms to lie flat against her middle and lower back. She lets her hands rest at his jaw and the back of his neck as he pulls her in tight; their bodies flush against one another. His skin is soft, but his body is hard with lean muscle, the contrast making him that much more alluring.
His lips move from her mouth to the spot on her neck right below her ear, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses in their path. His mouth closes around the skin, his teeth leaving indentations that will not fade quickly. She sighs softly, letting her fingers brush through the hair at the nape of his neck.
Gradually his mouth works its way up to her ear, his breath on her skin making her shiver as a low whisper escapes his lips.
"I don't trust me either."
