Full Speed
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- Votes 9
- Parts 3
I watched in awe as she made her way through the court yard. Her soft brown hair falling down herback; ripped skinny jeans, white satin top that flowed down her stomach, and to tie it together, her leather jacket. She walked into the building with purpose, as if always on a mission. Her brown puppy dog eyes scanned the area. Those deep brown eyes landed on me, success filling those eyes. I watched as her lips and moved and her tongue kissed her teeth, mouthing the best words to every be spoken, "Hey Holleywood." I watched as River moved his hand down her back, dangerously close to her butt. She walked into the building, her binder at her hip, RIver at her side. I looked back down in my hand, my heart fluttering as I read every word.
Roses Are Red,
Violets Are Blue,
Meet Me Tonight,
And Bring My Bike Too
~NightRider
All Rights Reserved
#318
harm
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C O M P L E T E D Previously called: They Met On A Sunday ☙❦❧ "Beautiful," he mumbled to himself as he studied the way her hair fell down her shoulders. How her cheekbones sat. How her eyelashes brushed her brow bone. Everything about her. "Hmm?" she sounded out. She heard what he said, but refused to believe he was saying it about her. She was probably hallucinating. She shook her head to try and clear her mind. He watched her in amusement. "Um sorry," she mumbled, "I think I'm hearing things." She laughed awkwardly, letting her eyes stray from his face and look at anything else she could possibly look at. "No you weren't," he corrected her. "You heard right." She lifted her head in surprise and he was already smirking. The glint in his eyes told her that he wasn't lying either. Her heart swelled and she bit her lip instinctively. He groaned. "Fuck Delilah don't do that," his eyes darkened as he admired her plump lips, waiting for the moment he could kiss them. "For my sake." ☙❦❧ A story about a girl who thought she loved a boy; a story about a boy the girl didn't love. ☙❦❧ #1 in the Bouquet Bunch Short Story. Cover by @xtruebeautyx Copyright ©
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