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Did she still have the greenish brown eyes that I could stare into all day, and the brown skin that complemented my pale skin and her hands… I chuckled as I remembered the way she would measure her small hands with mine every time and pout when it was still smaller.
‘Dad said men should have big and long hands. You are a girl, small hands will make you cute.’
‘No, you are just being sexist. I asked mommy and she said those are cliche stereotypes.’
She used to be so smart.
I hoped her cheeks were still squishy. Oh and her hair…
I shook my head and smiled. I was being stupid. She was not twelve anymore, she was now twenty-two.
I opened my drawer and brought out a younger picture of her.I can’t wait to see you now, Jordan. I told the picture, then placed it next to my laptop and proceeded to open the email.
I downloaded the pictures and…
SOME DAYS AGO
I shifted on the bed, groaning quietly before stretching. I remembered what had happened last night and looked gently to the left side of the bed to see the lady lying there so beautiful and vulnerable.
I rested on one arm to admire her well.
Her hair drew my attention and I softly touched the tip to avoid waking her up –which surprised me because I’d never allowed a girl to sleep overnight with me in the same room after we were done.
I groaned at how soft the hair was. It was curly brown and so beautiful. It reminded me of someone I shouldn’t be thinking about at the moment.
She frowned a bit, creasing her thick eyebrows in the process. I stared at her slightly parted lips and gulped, pushing down the urge to press a kiss on it.
My head replayed everything that happened overnight; how her lips felt so good against mine, how she clenched repeatedly especially when she couldn’t take me anymore, how her eyes rolled back when she was about to release and how her soft parted lips called my name every time she got down from her high.
I sat up and hit my head quietly. I didn’t like this feeling. I didn’t know this girl, I just met her yesterday and I shouldn’t be feeling like this.
It was not my first time going to the club and easing my sexual tension with whoever wanted to go with me. But meeting this girl now, I felt like I’d been doing the wrong thing all my life.
She was just so beautiful and she looked like she was mine. She looked like she’d always been mine and I’d always been hers, and we were just made for each other, which was totally wrong. I didn’t like her. I actually loved someone else. Someone who had my heart since forever.
I could mess around and fuck whoever I wish to, but she would always be in my heart. She belonged to me and I belonged to her. I didn’t know if she was dead or not and I didn’t care.
As long as I lived, I would always be Flower’s. It was a promise I made to myself and no one could make me break it.
I heard Vixen groan slightly as the morning sun hit her face, and for no reason at all, I laid back pretending to still be asleep.
She exhaled in what sounded like relief and I turned my body toward her, my eyes still closed. She was silent for a while before whispering a ‘wow.’ She stayed silent again before I felt the tips of her tender fingers on my lower lips and I inhaled, hoping not to break character.
Please don’t touch me.
She removed her hand from my lips and drew on my tattoos. Her hand lingered on a particular spot on my arm and I traced my mind to what tattoo it was. I didn’t remember at the moment, but I guessed it was where my Medusa tattoo was. She eventually removed her hand and I felt her slip off the bed. I clenched my fingers as it pushed me to hold onto her.
Was I weird? Yes, I was. I just met this girl, then why was I so drawn to her?
I heard the door close, opened one eye to scan the room and I sat up on the bed after confirming she was gone, ignoring the feeling of my clenching heart at the thought that she left. I glanced around and smiled as I noticed my shirt missing.
I couldn’t believe she took my shirt without asking and I couldn’t believe I was smiling at that, even though I hated my things being touched.
That Vixen was unapologetic.
PRESENT
The Vixen was my Flower?
