I'm imagining her in this outfit, but that obviously doesn't mean that you're expected to do the same. This chapter serves as a part two for fifteen.
Aurora
He looked up at me with those icy blue eyes of shattered glass, and the millions of pieces that my heart was already in broke even more. It hurt so much to see him like this, in so much pain. His cheeks are stained with tears, and sobs fall from his lips. I didn't hesitate to sit next to him."Why are you here, Aurora?" His voice broke at every word. The accent that sent m mind into a frenzy was barely existent in his voice. "I didn't ask you to follow me up here. You should have stayed downstairs."
"I'm here because I care, Adrian. I care about you." I whispered into the silence of his room. His steady heartbeat was the only sound I could hear. He didn't reply to my words. Instead, he let me hug him while he cried. The vulnerability in him was peeking through. Like light pouring through a window. His breathing was uneven, and his sobs were the only sound heard within the walls of his bedroom.
"Adrian, um, maybe you'll feel better if you talk about your mom."
He laughs, but his laugh is dryer than it usually is. Almost as if the situation isn't funny at all. "I don't need a fucking therapist, Carter. I'm perfectly fine. I am not looking to share my life problems with a middle-aged man that has nothing else better to do."
"I'm not saying that you should see a therapist, Adrian. I'm saying that you could share what you are feeling with me. In a way, I could be your therapist." He raises an eyebrow at me as if he's wondering how I could be so damn stupid. "Look at it like this. If you pour your heart out to me, then you'll feel better. It has been proven."
"Is this just your way to make me pour my heart like this is some cheesy romance novel?" He says, almost in a teasing manner. I crack a smile at his ability to tease me whenever he's obviously not feeling it not right now. His voice was flat, but there was a slight humor to it.
"No," I tell him, honestly. "I just want you to feel better, Adrian. We don't have to speak if you are not comfortable. If you don't trust me-"
"That's not it, Aurora, I trust you, but I am not good at pouring out my heart. I never have been, and I never will be. But, if you really want to know, I'll tell you." Really? "You know that picture that you were looking at the other day?" I nod. "Well, that picture was taken on my first day of eighth grade. The year of my mom's death. It was the last picture I had of her."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I begin. "I didn't know-"
"Aurora." He says, in that deep accent of his.
"What?" I whisper.
"Please shut up. Anyway, eighth grade was really hard for me. That was the year I didn't give a fuck. My grades sucked and I was getting suspended all the time for being disrespectful to everyone around me. I'd punch people, for the sole purpose that I could. Now that I look back, I realize that I was being stupid. While I may still be an asshole, I'm not nearly as bad as I was then. I acted that way because I didn't know how else to cope with her death, expect for acting like I didn't have a fucking heart."
As he said those words, my heart felt like it was being stabbed over and over again with a dagger. Tears stung my eyes, but I forced myself not to cry. Adrian was feeling bad enough, and didn't need to deal with my dramatic self.
"Adrian, you want to, um, watch a movie?" I ask.
Seriously? Watch a movie? You're out of your damn mind.
"Okay. You can pick," he replies, and leans back against his pillow. I roll my eyes, and grab the remote off his bedside table. "God, can you pick any faster?"
After searching for a good five minutes, and enduring an entirety of Adrian's complaints, I find a movie that's worth watching. That movie was Grease.
"Che cazzo stiamo guardando?" He groans. "What the fuck are we watching?" I glare at him, but he continues to complain. "Do you really hate me this much that you have to torture me like this?"
No, Adrian, I don't hate you that much. In fact, I don't hate you at all.
"Just shut up, and watch the movie," I say instead. He grumbles under his breath, but shuts up.
Halfway through the movie, he speaks again. "Why do they sing so much? Is this high school musical? Like, for real, this is just fucked up. Why do you like this movie, Carter?" I throw a glare in his direction. He shuts up for a duration of the movie. But, once the movie is over, he proceeds to complain again. "Why is everyone so damn sexist? These girls need to grow some balls, and flip these guys off. It'd make this movie better, that's for sure. And, the Sandy girl needs to grow some confidence, and get over this Danny firgue, who doesn't seem to be interested in her at all."
"It's a good movie, Adrian. Stop complaining." I almost growl, which makes his eyes twinkle with mischief.
With a smirk on his lips, he replies. "Do you growl like that whenever you're mad, or are you just turned on?"
I blink at him. "What?" The look he gives me says "you heard me." His gaze drops to my lips, and before I know it, his lips are on mine. Not even a minute passes before I kiss him back. He pulls me onto his lap so my legs are straddling his waist. His tongue grazes my bottom lip, and I don't hesitate to let him in.
Basically, I definitely wouldn't mind making out with Adrian again.
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Dangerous Game
Novela JuvenilIn between his fingers is a cigarette. Sleeves of tattoos decorate his tanned arms. He brings trouble wherever he goes. He has a bad boy reputation that he'll do anything to keep. He never fails to have a smirk decorating his lips. He'll burn the wo...