After You... (Official Edit)

Chapter 3 - Milk

**I'm doing what I call my no-nonsense uploads. Just bang bang bang bang bang these re-written chappies out. (my personal note: hey dad, there's some swear words here but anyway, since you wanna read my stuff here's the next chapter but when the chapters start getting (ahem) you can't read no more sorry lol x)

Chapter Three

        Milk

I managed a lightning quick text.

Me @23:06

Don't even think about it.

Darius @23:07

Bree...

Me @ 23:07

I mean it. Kibbie's here.

His response was swift.

Darius @23:08

I see.

Darius @23:09

And if she wasn't...?

You know when you love someone's persistence? When it's a turn on? When he's hot and it's hot and everything's just fucking hot?

When persistence feels validating because inaction is worse. Willing to chase you not for the thrill, but because it was worth it in the end?

This felt like his thrill.

Amazingly though, that hurt.

Me @ 23:12

...I'd still want you to leave. What kind of time do you call this?

Nothing he did should've hurt any more.

Darius @ 23:15

All I'm asking is that you see me. Or I'm serious, I'll come up.

But it did. I was Darius Riley's thrill and it hurt because I was crazy enough to still want to be more.

Back then persistence proved he cared hard enough. Wanted something bad enough. Darius could be like that and it was okay. He could chuck bits of earth at my window at night when I was pissed off at him and I'd never go to the window, and he'd never know that behind the curtain I smiled anyway. He'd never know my anger was a bluff.

Because back then when he was new I couldn't imagine anything he did getting old. Because back then the games we played were the flirting kind. His push-forwards and my pull-backs because I wasn't that kinda girl. He could never be allowed to think I was. I'd be the one he worked for and he knew he had to. Back then he felt right.

This didn't.

Me @23:18

You. Are. NOT. Coming up. I told you, Kibbie's here.

Darius @ 23:19

Then u know what to do I'm here Bree. Meet me.

Because too often I loved that part of him. I rated it. That guy who wanted me no matter what. Once, he'd kept me in his bed because he needed me there. Because he'd sing from the streets that it was a bed he shared with me. Now it would be the safest place to be without anybody finding me. Like a dirty little secret. We could hide under the sheets and he could turf me out before the skies come up bright. Like I would just be that for him like a willing dog at the side of the dinner table waiting for scraps. For every message he sent-