🦋 part eight ; covers 🦋

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the only thing i can force out my mouth is

"shit."

hayley monroe is asleep on my bed.

and fuck is she beautiful.

her soft milk-blonde hair is spread out on the grey sheets, surrounding her latte skin and softly parted lips like some sort of silky halo. her slender hand is rested over her foundation-stained white jumper. even her smudged eyeliner and worn-off lipgloss seem so indescribably perfect.

i shake my head to clear myself from this trance, but it only half-works.

i find myself walking steadily towards her, my eyes still fixated on her curled-up frame, and sitting on the edge of the bed.

back off, george! she'll wake up and see you and think you're a freak--

but for once in my life i don't listen to myself. my hand shaking, i slowly reach out and place a hand on her shoulder, drawing circles with my thumb. such a small action sends electricity all through me.

maybe i could paint her. if i can get a photo.

but i don't want to paint her right now. i want to sleep. and this is my bed.

oh fuck off george, you're not really going to sleep in it are you, there's a fucking girl in there--

softly, i place myself on the other side of the bed and draw the covers over me. i pull up the faux-fur blanket from the bottom of the bed.

and sleeping in my bed with a girl i barely know?

i've never felt more relaxed.


hayley's pov

i smile with my eyes half closed, fully awake.

aww.



OOOOH BITCH

SORRY TO RUIN THE ATMOSPHERE BUT OOOOOHHHHHH BIIIIITTTCCCCHHH

STUFF BE HAPPENING

BITCCCCCHHH

SUBSCRIBE TO MACDOESIT IF YOU'RE A HOMOSEXUAL OR A WOKE HETERO

IS THERE SUCH A THING AS A WOKE HETERO???

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