1 month later
Ella hadn't known when she went back home with James that night that he was Noah's bestfriend.
All she had seen was a boy with devastatingly beautiful lips.
All she had felt were his caressing hands and his body pressed up against her just a little bit too close to suggest merely friendly desires.
And all she had heard was his low and almost impossibly gorgeous voice telling her exactly how and where he wanted her.
They smirked and flirted around the situation for longer than necessary. Putting up a false pretence. As if they did not assume, or indeed know for a fact, exactly how the night would end.
It was a dance. Precise. Calculated. Choreographed.
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Waking up in the early hours in a foreign bed with an almost stranger wrapped around you would be forever disconcerting.
The bright beams that trickled through James' skylight were a sharp contrast to how Ella felt.
The light was pure and fresh. A new morning.
Ella felt none of these things. She felt too old for her years. Too tired of the cycle she was bound to follow. And yet it was her choice. Her choice alone that had brought her here.
For the longest time Ella had felt sad. It was a simple truth that she only dared admit to herself in the dark late hours and moments like this.
Overcome with this overwhelming sudden presence of feelings spilling out of her Ella practically jumped from the bed. Anything to get away. Get away from herself.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and the boy matched with a groggy groan simultaneously.
Turning slightly and seeing he was awake she offered him a gentle smile and shrug.
James meanwhile looked at her. In an appreciative manner. The early morning light casting gentle beautiful patterns upon her exposed body. He looked at her not in a leering manner. But in a way you would appreciate art. Marvelling at its shape and form. The perfections and imperfections.
In a way his gaze made her feel even more bare. As if her very soul had been opened for him to see.
It was perhaps because of the way he looked at her and that sweet sweet smile held on his lips that she didn't immediately leave. That she agreed to stay for breakfast and that she climbed back into his arms for a few hours more. These comforts she would allow herself. For just a few hours more.
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Ass(ets)
General FictionIn which two (and sometimes three) teens reflect upon why love sometimes, and actually, really sucks.