suicidal but a meme idol

magnetic strangers

* inspired by Halsey's Strangers - - if you don't like stories with mature content *

* please steer away from this book *

* Especially in regards to sexuality*

I hate intimacy. I hate the feeling of love and lust seeping through the fingers of those who hold my waist tighter to their body. I can't look into their eyes as every time I do, I fall for their trickery all over again. Except for her. It was complicated. It always was. I hated her embrace and her gaze that flicks across my body: fuelled with the flicker of desire and lust. Well, I wished I hated it. To be frank, I'd give anything to be drowned by her. To be anything with her. But I can't. She's like everyone else. Only wanting a high from her typical cyst white males. It was summer, and who doesn't like to experiment. I should have thought, or better yet known better, but I didn't. I expected her to be more than a summertime love; but my expectations deceive me once again. Head over heels for a girl who only saw me as an infatuation. I thought she'd be different, not like the hoard of sheep that reek the streets, but how I was wrong. So I stopped calling. Stop staying. Anytime she would want a hit of pleasure I'd only inject it by kissing her neck, never the lips. If I devoured myself into her tantalising lips, then I would fall victim once against to my heart. She was different for sure. No girl could compare to her. She was a woman. Strong and wise. But, she was still a girl at her heart. Naive and manipulative. Kari is her name. On a full ride college scholarship due to her fluctuating intelligence. Studying a dual degree of biomedicine and bio chemistry with honours. Extraordinary you could say the least. Ranking the highest in her class. She would never cease to amaze you. Kari Wells was a prodigy, and she would never tell you. You just knew. Whether from rumours, news articles, hell even from the college professors and I am no where near in the same subject range as her. It was crazy. Although she came from a broken home, she made use of her life. Being twice the woman anyone in her bloodline could be. Her name was known for the generating deadbeats that continued to live under the cursed name Wells. Somehow she was gifted with the knowledge and brain cells from god knows where. A lot of people thank her mum for those genes, but she wouldn't know as she died during birth. But for some reason, she has grown an infatuation with being liked, being popular. Smart, but always needing the centre of attention, well that was the initial impression I got, but who am I to say. I was only a one night stand, or two, or three.  A hint of spice to her appetite. Although I was her test subject of her sexuality - and it hurt that I was - it turned out well, for her. But now, it was my turn for revenge.

It was a frat party. Dress up, specifically Halloween. Girls dressed like hookers, men dressed as chotches, either way it is a tasteful site from both parties. It was hard to find a good costume as I wanted to be "unique" which worked, so I dressed up as Christopher Nolan's Joker. It really accentuated my body enough to not make me look like the rugby player I am. It hid my face easy as well. So I got drunk. To the point where I didn't care anymore. I kissed too many familiar faces, but one in particular. They were just as gone as me. She was beautiful. A modernised Poison Ivy. I pushed her against a wall that wasn't out of plain sight. Her hands tangled in my hair while mine traced her hips, pulling her closer to my body. We fought. Our lips fighting for supremacy over the other. Her hands began to wonder further down my body, reaching under the back of my shirt to grip on my shoulders. Compared to her petite body, mine was quite brawny for a girl. Broad shoulders, barely any figure. A typical athletic body. To be fair, she probably thought I was a man in her intoxicated state. Her's was small, curvaceous. Easy to mould. And so were he lips.  Soft to to the touch. Bow shaped. Easy to kiss. I would trail my tongue on her lower lip and press my top lip to it as well. Her lips tasted like a candy necklaces, sweet, innocent, but cunning. Just reiterating her innocent virtue. She pulled away panting, trying to focus her thoughts, to pin point the words she wished to utter. Resting her forehead on mine, only putting white paint on her perfect guise. She began to falter her words, but I was too restless and eager to smear my lipstick on her neck. One of my hand remained on her hip and waist, while the other guided her head to tilt to the right while i began to assault  her neck. Pulling her closer, I could tell she was lost in the lust of alcohol. I would bite her neck every now and then just to keep her on her toes.