Breathless...

𝗘𝗻𝗿𝗮𝗽𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

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Simon's POV

I've been sneaking around; trying to catch up with this vampire, every fucking night. And when I don't find him in the Catacombs, in the Wavering Wood, and around Mummers, I drudge back up the tower Baz and I share—shared—and collapse onto his bed. Burying myself in his blankets. In his strong bergamot scent, that somehow remained. Even after all these lonely nights.

              Usually I fall asleep after a few hours of tossing and turning, desperate to escape my aching longing for him. But tonight I just can't. I throw his covers off and get up, it's 4am. Deciding to go for a walk, I put on his football hoodie. He left it here. . . And well, every breathing second I'm alone, I'm wearing it.

              Penny burst into our room last night. She saw and didn't say anything. I think she was waiting for an explanation, because there's no way I'd have a team hoodie (Plus, Baz's was big on me, and had his last name on it)—and she looked like she knew something—but I couldn't even speak. There was no way I could repeat what happened between me and Baz. It would only make it more real. More painful.

             I only stuck my head in Baz's pillow, which she must've questioned, since I never told her what happened between us. But oddly she looked like she knew something. Like she was also suspicious. Though her quietness was eerie. Penny had even held in her questions when Agatha sat somewhere else. Pouted for sure, but her lips were sealed.

When my mind wanders back to my surroundings, I find myself walking towards the Football Pitch. And he is right there. Bazzy. . .

             I gulp, and my feet are frozen—stuck to the ground. He's too busy practicing his kicks to notice me. Baz . . . .

            And his shirtless sculpted, porcelain chest is exposed. His shorts hanging on his slim waist, just below his v-line. My eyes travel down the dips in his stomach, down his happy trail. I can see every knot and hollow in his abs. Baz's body moves in a sensual and captivating way no matter what he's doing. It's always been enrapturing, and maybe that's why I've stared at him since we were children.

           And I continue staring at him now. Until his body twists around gracefully, football weaving between his light feet, and he spots me. Raven hair rippling in the chilly wind, silver eyes meet mine. For the first time in weeks.