Spark

27 | My House Or Yours?

I like the mess you make--What's Left Of You

.Miles.

Kissing Starr is like making the final shot at a game. Exhilirating.

It's like being crowned Most Valuable Player. Rewarding. 

I know I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't kiss her if I won't make it mean more than it really is. I also shouldn't want her, yet I crave her with each rise and fall of the sun. She feels so right. We feel so right. 

No one knows me as well as she does. No one occupies my mind as much as she does. No one resonates with as much importance to me as much as her. I'd taken one look at the girl in fifth grade and decided I wanted to know her. I wanted to be friends with her. A few years later and I was practically rabid when it came to her. I couldn't go a single day without having her in my arms for fuck's sake. 

She just feels so right. I wish I could say this some other way, but that's just it. Starr King feels right for me and I don't think I'm close to being even okay for her.

She shifts on my lap, slightly lifting her hips in a way that earns an involuntary moan from my mouth. Christ, I never want her to leave. Yet, I should be steering her far, far away from me. 

My hands tighten around her hips and a loud, startling knock sounds on my window. She jerks back so quickly, my honk goes off and even through the now dim car–due to the disappearance of the sun–I don't miss the panic that widen her eyes and has her scrambling to get back into the passenger seat. 

I turn to the scraggly looking, bearded man next to my window and lower the glass with a scowl. "Can I help you?"

He flashes me a scanty smile with scattered teeth, running his hand through his beard. "Are you moving the car? I'm parked right behind you and that would be really helpful."

I merely nod, which seems good enough for him because he returns to the beaten up volvo behind my car. I turn back to glance at Starr and unsurprisingly, she's flooded crimson, fidgeting with the sleeves of her leather jacket. She's also avoiding looking in my direction–which I hate–but if anything, I'm compliant with Starr's personality and mood swings. 

Sighing, I reach over and pull her seatbelt across her before clicking it into place. She doesn't look at me the entire time but I know she's berating herself for what happened with how fast her thumbnail is digging through her sleeves. 

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I click my seatbelt into place and turn the key in the ignition, roaring the car's engine to life. 

×××

She can't get away from me fast enough. I've barely put the car into park in my driveway when Starr clicks out of the seatbelt and pushes open the door. 

I've established that I'm a toxicity in her life–I shouldn't even be present in it, so when she tries this, it's no surprise that I use my six foot two height to my advantage and catch up with her. I hate how I have to latch on to her elbow to stop her from scrambling away from me–especially considering the fact that I could be causing pain to her already hurt shoulder. 

"Ow!" She hisses, not looking at me as she settles her gaze on her shoulder. I instantly release her elbow and mentally kick myself for hurting her. 

"Galaxy," I sigh. "I'll help ice it."

"It's fine. I can just..."

Accustomed to her skittish self but irritated by her defiance and ignorance at the moment, I gently grab her chin and force her gaze to mine. Those light brown eyes never fail to make me catch my breath each time they land on mine. Her warm skin is currently coloured red–It scatters across her cheekbones in a way that makes me smile.