Harvard Boy

Hickey.

It was shaded with purple hues and blue outlines.

Marking; branding, her skin with something sultry.

It was a reminder.

A daily influence, on why she couldn't breathe sometimes; or why she felt an ache in between her heart and mind.

Her fingers had grazed over it, had felt its tenderness, it's depth.

If that hickey wasn't there, neither would the reminder of the kiss.

Neither would the memory of that night.

In the last four days, it had been unspoken of.
Harry, pretended as if it had never happened. Like it was some casual exchange, benefiting from a simple answer.

"So how was it?" He'd asked.

"W-what?"

"Sam's kiss. How was it?"

"Uh" She was baffled; lost.

She knew then, that's why he did it.

Not because he thought she was beautiful or tempting.

But, because he was curious.

"It was okay." She'd hushed.

And that was that.

He chuckled slightly, swung an arm over her; and murmured a "Let's get you home."

She hasn't talked to him; she hadn't wanted to.

Sure he passed time with her, blabbering on about alumni meetings and the debate team.

But she only gave him one worded replies, followed by silent nods.

He looked at her with fondness, and admiration. As if, they were turning into something acquainted.

And that look in his eyes is what made it the hardest.

What made dreams turn into nightmares; and minutes into hours.

Staying composed and focused was equally brutal. Because all she wanted, was to yell; to tell him, he has no idea what he's done.

That, the kiss they shared should have never existed with this kind of investment toward her.

It was unfair.

So unfair.

That his touch made her into a even more ravenous monster.

Wanting; needing more; more; more.

Wanted to kiss him again. To feel his mouth on hers, and run her fingers along the stretch of his back.

To take control of the situation.

To make him moan her name until he'd forgotten the girl that ruined him.

Wanted to have him. All of him.

But she couldn't.

Because he was in love with someone else.

Because he'd always be impeccable and put together. Knowing what to do in the spur of the moment.

And she'd always be, a mess of emotions, one step behind him. Stuttering like a fool, and looking for answers.

But that doesn't change Victoria getting a taste of him.

Doesn't change the memory of him pressed up against her.

His hands roaming her body.

Doesn't change the knowledge of knowing she'll search her entire life to find something as equally satisfying.

Her hands run against the already fading bruise once again.

Doesn't change the confirmation, that she never will find it.

(DOUBLE UPDATE 😘)