Where predator becomes prey. Love can bloom like a flower on a late summer evening; spread to full bloom in those last vibrant rays of sun. But for a rose to be left to rot in the shade and darkness, to be left soiled with old toxins, to have nothing but thorns?--that, too, is love. And how twisted that love could be...
Remember when I said earlier I was glad there hadn't been a spark between us when we shook hands? Well, it must have just been on a temporary loo break or something because energy is now throbbing in the small space between us. Once again, I can't look away from him. Heat pulses through the hand he's holding. There's...
It didn't happen, but she has the pics, and he's in a fix. Romcom at its best, dear readers. Come on in :)