The Anatomy of a Complicated Love

The Anatomy if a Complicated Love

It seemed as though everything was falling apart. The seams of the perfectly sewn dress, also known as my life, was starting to fall apart. The thin pieces of string frayed at the edge.

I tried to sew it back up. Add a patch here and there, maybe add a piece of red cloth over the gapping hole where my heart used to be. But it was too late for my dress.

My life was a mess.

And there was not a piece of cloth big enough to hide it.

I continued to stay still, the only thing moving was my beating heart. My eyes stayed trained on Ash. His eyes looking anywhere other than me. I sat on his bed, surrounded by dark articles of clothing strewn around the room. The smell of manly musk stayed in the room, the smell of stale cigarettes tangled through.

A hint of strawberry was the only other smell that wasn't his. And truthfully, I had no idea whose it was. I was afraid of the answer, so I didn't dare speak the question. It had only been two weeks ago that they had shared that kiss.

The kiss that you would expect at the end of a cheesy 80's drama.

It was passion, it was fire, it was love mixed with pain. It was the most perfect kiss a person could ask for.

It was our last kiss.

He hadn't even looked at me since he showed me his closet filled with his past skeletons. But here we were. I was sitting on a bed that had enough cigarette burns to be called an ash tray, and he was sitting on his desk. The dark brown smoothed wood held a few papers along with Ash.

I was surprised that it could even stand with the weight of Ash's lies.

"Are you going to talk to me, or are you just going to stare at me?" Ash's eyes met my gaze, his fingertips started to rub against the smooth wood.

"Will you tell me the truth?" I questioned.

Ash's hand balled into a fist, and started to lightly knock on the desk. Almost as though he would a door. His gaze dropped from mine and a chuckled escaped his lips. Ash brought his hand to his face and rubbed the shadow that was beginning to grow.

"When have I stopped telling the truth?"

"The first day we met is my guess." I ran a hand through my hair, my fingers slowly glided through the strands.

"That is where you are wrong my dear Kitty."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Well, well, well. Look who actually started the book!

Hint, it's me.

I know, I know, I'm 10 days late.

But finals happened a little earlier than I thought. But, I hope you guys enjoy the very first chapter of The Anatomy of a Complicated Love. The sequel to The Anatomy of Bad Boys.

Since this was the first chapter, it's a small one. But I promise that there will be way longer chapters in the future. I can feel it in my toes.

Love,
Mchanel