“I.. I don’t know what to feel,” Connor stammered. His hands were clammy from his nerves, but that was the least of his worries.
“Tyler--” Troye started as he clenched and unclenched his fists, but he cut him off.
“You need to choose,” Tyler whispered, his eyes watering, knees wobbling, and hands shaking.
For a few seconds, as tensions were whirring in the air of the tiny room, not one object made a sound..
And in a split second a decision was made evident.
-
One was grief-stricken,
Another, astonished,
The last, pulseless.
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I'm a kluts" I said to the person.
"It's fine honey. Do you need a hand?" he asked.
I looked up and this very hansom guy stood in front of me with his hand out for me to take. I took his hand and he pulled me up. When I touched his hand it gave me an electric shock of butterflies.
He had brown curly hair with green eyes. He was hottttttttttttttt as fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkk.
"So what's your name?" asked the hot guy.
"I'm Connor Franta. What's your name?"
"I'm Troye, Troye Sivan."