Pink Flowers

Pink Flowers

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing35m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Mar 30, 2024
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Fiction
Romance
⋆Let us meet in our dreams, dear. ⋆ ☆.•° [I don't really know what I am doing. This might be all over the place. This story was just a random idea I came up with in the middle of the night.]
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"Get over yourself," I spit, twisting away from him, slamming the crate closed with a sharp motion. "I'm not here for you. I'm not interested in whatever game you think you're playing." But my voice cracks on the last word. Damn it. I hate that I can't keep my cool around him. "You're lying." He steps even closer, his chest almost brushing against my back. I can feel every inch of him now, and it's almost too much. My breath hitches as I fight to maintain control, to keep my body from betraying me. "You're just as trapped in this as I am. Whether you want to admit it or not." I can feel the heat of his body radiating against mine, and every nerve in my body is screaming at me to get the hell away from him. But I don't. Instead, I turn around, forcing myself to meet his gaze. His eyes are darker now, intense, unreadable-like he's looking right through me, but I won't let him. "I'm not trapped," I say, my voice trembling with the lie I'm trying to tell myself. "I don't need anyone, least of all you." He watches me for a long beat, the silence stretching between us until it feels like it might snap. Then, finally, he leans in just slightly, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks. "You're wrong." His voice is low, a whisper just for me. "You may not need me, Yasmine, but you sure as hell want me."

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