I flicked the lock, and the door swung open by itself. I gasped as a flood of red roses poured out of my locker. They fell and pooled at my feet, a few stray petals remaining on my books. My heart skipped a brief beat, but I wasn't that weak.
"How's that?" a voice murmured at my ear.
My neck snapped to the side, and when I realized who it was, I smirked.
"This is good, I'll admit, but not good enough." I grabbed my notebook and slammed my door shut as I turned to hurry toward class.
He gripped my wrist and spun me around, caging me against my locker with his forearms on either side of my head.
I took a shaky breath, "What?"
He gazed into my eyes, and I held contact before his stare became too intense.
Looking away, I mumbled, "I have to get to class."
He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, "Have to or want to?" he spoke softly.
I ignored his question, "You should get to it as well."
"Get to what? Work? Or working with you?" he purred into my ear.
I turned my head and saw the quirk of his lips, and I realized that he was once again playing around.
I ducked under his arm and hurried off to class with out pausing to look back.
"I'm going to win," he called down the hall, his voice echoing.
"Don't be too confident, Wilmoore," I said back, knowing that he heard me.
"You'll see. No one, and I mean no one has ever stayed strong for longer than three, maybe five months. That's all I need, five months. Not even half a year."
I stopped and listened to the sounds of his receding footsteps moving further and further away as the main door shut in the distance.
"Well, I only need three," I whispered.
YOU ARE READING
For The Love Of Cupid
Jugendliteratur♚мα¢нˌмāкəя: α ρєяѕσи ωнσ αяяαиgєѕ яєℓαтισиѕнιρѕ αи∂ мαяяιαgєѕ вєтωєєи σтнєяѕ, єιтнєя ιиғσямαℓℓу σя, ιи ¢єятαιи ¢υℓтυяαℓ ¢σммυиιтιєѕ, αѕ α ғσямαℓ σ¢¢υραтισи.♚ It was what people liked to call me...us. How could two of the same type of people be so...
