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And here she is dressed in a pink and baby blue shimmering, glittering gown, a little sparkling tiara on her head.
A princess through and through.
Fuck. Me.
I look down at myself and scowl.
I was having trouble enough with my heart being a traitor, now my bastard cock has to perk the fuck up too at the simple sight of her?
I feel myself grow harder by the second as I look at her, utterly astounded by her presence.
Thank God for the long cut of the jacket of my uniform, or people would really be getting an obscene eyeful right about now. I most definitely don't pack light.
Fuck, I need to get a grip.
I'm thinking like a crazed overgrown teenage boy right now.Sonot good.
How can she hold so much power over me even from a distance?
How can she still shake me like this, mean so much to me, after all these years?
Did they fucking spike this damn apple cider or something?
I gulp down air, my throat suddenly parched. A wicked, all-too-familiar pain, gripping my chest.
I lower my arms and clench my fists at my sides.
I don't stop until I can feel the stinging pressure of my nails as they dig on the inside of my palms.
Every fiber of my being wants to go up to her, pick her up, throw her over my shoulder and drag her out of here in a sort of caveman-like frenzy.
Then, once I'd have her alone, I'd kiss her stupid, and then I'd kiss her smart again, until the idea that we're fucking perfect for each other would be crystal clear in her mind.
I can practically see myself as I stalk up to her.
And it takes me only a second to realize I'm actually moving away from the wall.
Don't fucking even think about it, man!
My mind frantically scrambles for every piece of objection it can find.
I've idealized what I felt that night.
No one can fall in love that fast, right?
I barely know her.
No, scratch that: I don't know her at all.
I haven't seen her, let alone spoken to her in seven fucking years.
What would I even tell her?
Oh, and let's not forget my favorite reason why I should stay fucking put or even better leave this stupid fucking party pronto.
She doesn't want me. She never did.
She made it clear seven years ago that she didn't want me around, romantically or otherwise.
