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Moving right back to the topic at hand, I will now answer some of my readers' burning questions, just five of them for now.
Question 1: What is Dax to you now that he has kissed you?
My Answer to Question 1: Dax has always been my tormentor in high school, the guy I've tried my hardest to avoid developing feelings for. However, his kiss displayed a different side of him. I have the choice to either savor the moment or despise it. But let me be clear, I will not reciprocate my feelings for him. Despite considering Dax my sworn enemy and secret crush, I will not confess this to either of you. I hope this answers your question.
Question 2: Can't you reconsider and give him a second chance?
My Answer to Question 2: No, I have already given him one chance in the past, and I will not grant him another.
Question Number 3: What about a third chance?
My answer to Question 3: I don't believe in the concept of a "third chance."
Question number 4: Since Dax just kissed you, would you consider him your first kiss?
My answer to Question 4: I can't believe you guys are asking me this kind of question, but I feel compelled to be honest. *Swallows nervously* I think he might indeed be my first kiss.
Question number 5: Would you still have the courage to kiss him if you were alone with him and had the opportunity?
My Answer to Question 5: Oh, come on, dear readers, are you truly asking me this? *Sighs* Honestly, if I didn't despise Dax so intensely, I might ponder it. However, he's Tresa's ex-boyfriend, causing a significant imbalance, wouldn't you agree? Please, offer me your guidance as I am still exceptionally bewildered. How does one bestow advice upon a seventeen-year-old girl facing such perplexing circumstances? I eagerly await your wisdom...
Bonus Question #6: Could you please provide a description of Dax's physique? This information would help us give you more appropriate advice. *heart eyes emojis*
My Answer to Number 6: Wow, you guys sure know how to make a girl blush! Dax's physique is absolutely jaw-dropping. Standing tall at a remarkable height, he makes me feel positively petite whenever I'm in his presence. I estimate he's around 5'9" inches tall, a testament to his commanding presence. It's truly remarkable how he effortlessly excels in both soccer and basketball, showcasing his athletic prowess.
His physique, oh my, it's a work of art. Reminiscent of a Greek god, his masculine chest is truly a sight to behold. Each muscle is sculpted to perfection, emphasizing his strength and virility. And those eyes, a captivating shade of deep blue, hold a mesmerizing allure that can make anyone weak at the knees.
As for his hair, it's usually a luscious jet black, adding an air of mystery to his already tantalizing persona. Depending on his mood, it can be styled in various lengths, further enhancing his undeniable appeal.
Beyond his extraordinary physical attributes, Dax possesses a captivating intelligence that surprises many. Though he may not fit the conventional stereotype of a "nerd," his intellectual prowess is undeniable.
Alright, alright, you've got me blushing furiously now. I can't believe I'm being so forthcoming! But hey, it's a bonus question, right? I hope my vivid description of Dax's physique helps guide you in offering appropriate advice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I find myself growing inexplicably drowsy.
Sweet dreams, dear readers.
Chapter Seven
Skye
The velvety scent of roses still lingered in my dreams, clinging to the edges of consciousness like dew on silken petals. A symphony of birdsong played in my head, each note a shimmering thread woven into the tapestry of slumber. Then came the discordant intrusion. Noise, jagged and unwelcome, ripped through my idyllic dreamscape, dragging me back to reality with a jolt.
I cracked open an eye, expecting to find the source of the assault - a blaring alarm, perhaps, or the insistent chirping of a smoke detector. Instead, I met the unsettling sight of Kenneth, sprawled across my bed like a rumpled marionette, his long limbs dangling over the edge. But it wasn't Kenneth who sent a shiver down my spine; it was the woman sprawled beside him, her face turned towards me in a mockery of slumber.
My breath hitched in my throat. The shock, the sheer audacity of it all, sent me sprawling to the floor, my legs tangled in the sheets. This stranger, this interloper, was not just sharing my bed; she was wearing my clothes. My silk camisole, the one with the delicate lace trim, now adorned her pale frame, and my favorite cashmere robe, the one I reserved for special mornings, draped limply over her arm.
Kenneth, oblivious to the havoc he'd wrought, continued his rummage through my wardrobe, his movements punctuated by the sickening thud of cashmere against wood. Each discarded garment felt like a personal violation, a piece of my privacy tossed aside with callous disregard.
Fury, hot and acidic, rose in my chest. My dream of roses and sunshine had morphed into a nightmare of intrusion and disrespect.
"What on earth, Kenneth!" I exclaimed, finally collecting myself and managing to rise to my feet.
"Oh, hello, Skye. You're awake," he responded nonchalantly, still engrossed in his search.
"What are you doing in my room? And why are you rifling through my wardrobe?" I demanded, the fatigue and anger evident in my voice.
"Lily needed some clean clothes," Kenneth replied, his attention still devoted to his mission.
"And why did you choose my room to locate the garments?" I queried.
