His Name was Bennett Price
- Reads 31
- Votes 2
- Parts 4
She knew better than to talk to him. She knew better than to get entangled in his arms and his kiss, his eyes, his lips, his tattoos, but did she listen? No she tapped his shoulder that day and told him that she wanted to be bad. He'd warned multiple times, don't come near him, he's not a good person. So all he could do that seventh day was give in.
I watch her undress,"Stop, no no no. I'm not letting you do this." I pulled her dress back up over her bony shoulder. She looks at me longingly. I look away not letting those eyes wrap me once again.
"I thought you wanted me? Am I not-"
I turn to her,"Oh god, just shut up. I've gone through enough of this with you, I'm done. This is crazy and if you thought this was going to make you popular, you thought wrong. It's going to make you a slut, a whore, do you want that? A label stuck in your back? Well do you?"
"You have one." She says.
"Because I'm an asshole. I've ruined lives, gotten drunk, gone to juvenile detention, fucked a few teachers for good grade here and there. Pulled a few dozen pranks, stolen private information. This is my life, not yours."
"But you're perfect, I want to be perfect." A tear falls down her face.
I pull her close,"I'm not perfect no where even close. If you want to be perfect so badly just continue being you. I should've." Her eyes find mine and I can't look away, she's just beautiful. Our lips meet and I can't pull away.
Pushing her into a wall I finally pull away,"God dammit how do you do that? Don't answer that,"I slip the strap down her shoulder,"Let's just have some fun." She smile and pulls me back into her lips.
I know it's wrong. Loving bad is wrong, but loving Bennett Price, that's just illegal.
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#26
goodgonebad
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There's this silence between us that stretches longer than it should, and it wraps around my chest like a weighted blanket. My throat tightens. I stare at him like I'm trying to memorise the face of someone who shouldn't exist. A dream made real. My lips part before I can stop myself. "Were you sent by my dad to take care of me?" The question hangs in the air, trembling like the last leaf in autumn. Aiden's gaze softens. His lips tug into the gentlest smile I've ever seen. It's the kind of smile that could mend broken wings. "No" he whispers. "I volunteered." The words hit harder than I expect. Like a punch wrapped in silk. I gasp, air leaves me in a rush I can't reclaim. But before I can fully process what he's just said, he takes a step closer. His fingers ghost over my cheek, brushing away a tear I didn't realise had fallen. And then-he kisses me painfully slow. His hand cups the back of my neck, anchoring me to a moment I never want to end. And just when I think it's over, he pulls away just enough to look at me. His thumb traces the damp trail of tears down my cheek. He doesn't say anything. He just leans in again, and kisses them away. One by one. My tears. My pain. My silence. All kissed away by a boy who didn't come to save me because someone sent him. He came because he chose to.
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