August & Colin | WRU series | book 1
We take risks. We make mistakes. We lie. We love. We hurt. We lose total control.
I took a risk. I paid the price.
I made a mistake. I felt the guilt.
I lied. I lie.
I loved. I try not to.
I hurt. I still do.
...
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Three years ago
She chokes on her drink but tries to cover it up by clearing her throat every time a cough starts to rise up. Her mouth is pressed against the back of her small hand as she clears it one more time. "That's pretty straight forward." Once the words slip past her lips I realize what path her mind started to wander on and it takes every bit of willpower to hold back my laughter. This might get interesting.
"You already told me you don't want me running around in your head so I decided to ask this time." I shrug, pretending that throwing sex on the beach into the first five minutes of a conversation is nothing more than small talk for me. The expression on her face is priceless. She's a deer staring into the headlights of a giant truck, yet every muscle is trying to hide the fact my unexpected question threw her off her game. It is fucking adorable.
She is fucking adorable. She was when I strolled into the kitchen and saw her biting down her lip scanning every bottle, unable to choose which one would be her victim. Or maybe her savior. I haven't figured that out yet.
After a couple of seconds of inspecting every bottle she had randomly picked one up to read the inscriptions on the label. Then she had proceeded to open it before putting her nose above the hole for the entirety of one millisecond. Her nose had scrunched in disgust as she had snapped the bottle away from her as quickly as possible. I had walked further into the kitchen unnoticed, watching her open a couple more bottles before leaning back against the counter, a sigh leaving her body. Every movement had made a grin appear on my face, a grin that is now too playing on my lips.
"Do you always ask such personal questions the first five minutes of knowing someone?" Her narrow eyes match her defensive tone and the realization of the riskiness of the question hits me. I'm walking on thin ice and it either breaks, swallowing me whole, or I reach the surface unharmed. Normally the risk of being blown off doesn't bother me, better take the risk and drown than wonder what would've happened if I had taken it. Yet there is something about her that makes me want to reach the surface, that makes the sound of being blown off so much worse. I blink the thoughts away, slightly surprised they even popped up in my head.
"Depends on who I'm talking to." I tease, earning a pair of rosy cheeks. So fucking adorable.
"So you're serious?" She asks as if she's debating on whether or not she should answer.
"You don't have to answer," I reply, letting her know she doesn't need to feel pressured because I must admit, if I had meant the question in the way she thinks I did, it would've been a bold move. Even though I didn't intend for the conversation to take this turn, I can't say I'm not interested in her answer.
I lock my eyes on her coffee bean brown irises trying to figure out what's going on inside her mind. She switches between mine seemingly trying to do the same. "Well," she starts adverting her eyes to her feet dangling off the counter in hypnotizing circles.
