Echoes of Thursday

Echoes of Thursday

  • WpView
    Reads 179
  • WpVote
    Votes 13
  • WpPart
    Parts 2
WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing12m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Apr 4, 2014
.First she saw black combat boots, then camouflage skinny pants tucked into the boots. Black short sleeved tee, and a black denim vest. Then she saw the head connected to the body. His face was smooth caramel, only interrupted by a finely groomed licorice colored beard and moustache combo. His eyes shone in the dark, a hint of amusement in them. His hair is what really caught her attention, though. It stuck straight up, as if he let it grow however it wanted, and Celine was sure he did. It kind of reminded her of one of her favorite artists, Jean Michel Basquiat. "You good?" His query snapped her out of her thoughts, and she gave him a small smile. "I'm good." He smiled, and she felt something inside her that she couldn't really describe. Apprehension, mixed with intrigue; shall we say. "You're pretty," he said in a slow drawl, with an accent she couldn't quite place, "You want to hit this?" He held out a joint, its smoldering red tip sending thin plumes of smoke into the already dank air. "No thanks, I'm not into that."
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • Covered Edges
  • His Bad Boy Ego | ✓
  • Good at Games, Bad at Love (18+)
  • Yours Forcefully
  • at First Sight (Y/nxAriana)
  • Miss. Fragile And Mr. Powerful
  • Money Makin' (Completed)
  • The Perfect Match #1
  • Love over contract

"You're just too much fun to mess with," he jokes, his smile transforming into a glowing smirk. My cheeks heat, but this time with anger. My tolerance has worn completely thin. "Would you let me go?" I ask spitefully. I feel like a broken record. He pushes off of the desk and takes a step back. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I slap him square across the cheek. Shock is plastered on his face, and I'm sure it is on mine too. I stand there in awe of what I just did. It was so sudden I'm not even sure I decided to do it but rather my indignation controlling me. Steadily, Damon's face morphs from shocked to entertained. I immediately regret my action, but I'm not completely stupid; I race for the door like there's no tomorrow. "You'll regret that!" I hear Damon yell as I'm running away. ~Sugar, spice, and everything nice~ A story about drama, sarcasm, love, and twists, with a little bad boy guilty pleasure mixed in between.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines